Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1867-07-10

stern, sullen, alien it seemed to his gener-
Gus, hearty nature, entered III and took
possession of him. He went home. slowly.
with heavy footsteps.
Tired, Johnny" his mother said,
cheerily, as he came into the kitchen
Somehow, the words vexed him She had
said them often enough before, but they
had never struck him just in this way till
now. Johnny, IF she would only remem-
Der that he was twenty-five years old
:. les, I'm tired he answered doggedly
Well, draw right up to the table. I've
got "A nice hot cup o tea all ready for ye.
That II rest We, and brighten We up lit
tie"
John Osgood threw down his hat i'm
patiently. Tea What notions of life
women had, He looked at his mother as
he had never looked at her before
Mother" said he, with bitterness he
hated himself for afterwards, - wonder
If you ever had Il trouble that good cup
Of tea would MT cure? Things don't 90
any deeper than that with some folks
His mothers eyes clouded, but she an
swered him very gently. She felt that to-
night, for some reason, he was not respon-
sible for himself
: I've had trouble that went deep enough,
John. Five children that have played
round my knees sleep yonder behind the
old meeting-hOuse, and to bear, and nurse,
and then lose-there's none knows what
that Is but Just them that's borne it, and
God that made mothers with mother
hearts Yes I've had troubles that creature
comforts would mt help much; and yet |
don't despise this worlds good things. You
have Mt any graves, where you feel as If
your heart was shut i'll and smothered, and
for bein' tired and mopin' do think there's
virtue in Il good cup o tea"
Her patience and gentleness touched him
He drew up his chair to the table, where
his father was already sitting, and answered
her in a softer tone.
= s'pose you're right, mother but I'm
not Just myself tonight"
Then he ate his supper in silence, and
after it was over sat for a few moments
thinking, still silently. At last he took
courage and opened the subject of which
his mind was full.
= Father, james Mccormick Is wanting
a place. Don't YOU think, with YOU to
oversee him, he could do the work on the
farm this summer"
Mrs Osgood did not speak, bur the cup
she was wiping fell to the floor with a sharp
crash. For full minute it was the only
sound which broke the stiffness. At last
the old man answered
. l don't know, John-may be he could.
never liked to have any strangers work
Ing on the old place in my time did it
all myself till you was old enough to help
me, and everything has prospered under
your hands, John. Still, may be James
Mccormick could; may be he could Did
you think of leayin', john"
:. | don't feel satisfied father, to be a
farmer IN this small WAY | want to do
something more with my life You could
hire man to do all | do for twenty dol
lars a month, and [ want to see what I'm
worth somewhere else
Then there was another long silence
The mother finished washing up her dishes,
and came and sat down between her son
and her husband, her face very white, and
her hands shaking little After awhile
the old man reached out and took one OF
lllc tItilD41i3 idIiNtS 4illO HIS OMl
We must nj blame John, mother" he
said, trying to speak cheerfully. What
he feels is Mt unnatural. Other young men
say the same Very few Of them are con-
tented nowadays to live their fathers lives
over again Only, it's come sudden. Don't
think we blame you, boy. Its all fair and
sudden
John got up and went up stairs. His
pale silence, his fathers attempt
at cheerfulness, seemed more than he could
bear He went away to his own room and
sat down by the window. Over across the
fields a light burned steadily. lie knew it
was the lamp in Angeline Wilmarth's par
lor Was she worth all this that he was
making these two old people suffer? Would
she ever love him a. they did? Was he
sure that she would ever love him al all
And in this untried life, this great world
where so many failed, how did he know that
he should succeed? What was he going
to do? How vague all his purposes were
Just a dream, born Of a soft spring night
and Angie Wilmarth' 5 fair face And for
it he was going to overturn the whole fab
ric of his life No, he would not be SO
mad This summer, at least, all should 90
on as before. He would take time to con-
slider. BY autumn he should know better
what he could do, and whether he could
bear to leave that old father and mother
five of whose treasures the church-yard
held and whose all he was-quite alone.
He began to think that this very fact that
he 1cas their all laid on him an obligation
not to be evaded-that no success pur-
chased at such selfish expenditure would
wait And so sleep came to>him, and the
morning brought him strength and calm
ness, and seemed to give him back his old
self again.
..Wnl you see James Mccormick to-
day." his father asked, ut breakfast, with
an anxiety he strove to conceal. John
smiled, cheerfully.
:. Not to-day, father; not at present
Ny plan was sudden, as you said-too
sudden to be wise. L have given it up,
for time at least. [ will carry OH the
place while longer
The old mans face cleared, but he did
not speak-only John Osgood's mother got
up and silently kissed him. No young
lips could have been more fond-could any
be more dear?
Two weeks after that news came to him
of Aneeline Wilmarth's betrothaI to her
cousin-the city-bred young man whom he
had seen riding beside her in the May
twilight This was an unexpected blow
something which, knowing the man 1ca,
her cousin, he had never feared. The
news sank into his heart with a dull, dumb
pain. She never would have cared fol-
him, then,-never had. 1t was well he
had not gone away and left those two who