Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1867-12-25
agricultural.
CHRISTMAS AT FARMER CRosBY's

Farmer Crosby came in at the back porch
stamping the snow from hs feet, and shaking
the feathery flakes from his wooden jacket.
At the sound Of fathers steps, the children
huddled closer together their faces quite aglow
with excitment.
"Now, Libby, you ask him." whispered
Dick, giving his sister nudge" with his
elbow.
"No, no, let Jenny" said Libby, All see N
ed to shrink from putting the question, what
ever it might be. At last, Jenny mustered
courage, and as father sat werming his hands
over the FIRE, she said, very timidly:
"Father, mayn't we hang up our stockings
to nighti"
How the hearts Of the three little listeners
almost stilled their beating to listen for the
answer! 1t came in gruf. harsh voice at Lasts
81 don't care what you do with your stock.
ings."
"But, father, it is Christmas eve. and other
little children hang up their stockings, and
find nice things in them in the morniug-can-
dies and dolls and such things But we never
had Christmas"
How sorrowfully the little lips spoke the
words. No one but child can know Just how
deep the feeling was that prompted them.
hurry. I've other uses for my money beside
fooling it away in candies and dolls. roast
ed potato in your stocking would be something
good deal more sensible. Now don't let me
hear no more of this foolishness about Christ
mas. If yonr mother puts you ur to such
nonsense, she'd better by half be minding her
work"
The poor down-hearted looking mother was
al onlo hv . bo "a
all this colloquy, purposely keeping herself
out of sight until it was ended Now she
turned, with sigh, to her milk-pans, sorry
for her children's sake, but not surprised at
this conclusion to their pleasant day dreams.
She was used to disappointment, and they,
poor things, were fast learning tbe lesson.
Very varied we're the feelings which the rebuff
produced in the minds of tue children.
Libby sat down on her low stool, with her
white kitty cuddled close to her bosom, an d
big tear now and then rolled down her cheek,
which she bent her head to hide
There was more OF anger than sorrow in
Dicks dark eyes, as he fixed them sc1rnfully
on his father. The boy was taking the meas ..
ure of the man. His whole soul was reused
with indignation at the unfeelins manner in
which he had blighted their bright hopes
up he would " leave that old house forever,
and take mother and the girls with him.
Then he'd see how father would get on"
1t is in just such little ways a. this that
parents are provoking their children to
wrath, and hardening their hearts towards
those who should be dearer than all else in
the would. Father and mother should be
sacred names to childhood. Money spent in
IN al un hi, al, Ill
ed. The price of one of those thirty Christ
mas turkeys which Farmer Crosby sent to
market, would have filled the house with 10y
and brightness, if he had only invested it
prudently at the little toy store on the corn
er. A little package of nuts and candies,
sixpenny toy or two for each, and their child
ish hearts would have been overlooking with
gladness 1t would have warmed their
hearts with love and gratitude towards the
hand which provided the enjoyment, but now
they were alienated more widely than ever
The gulf between parent and children was
growing wider every day. Jenny and Dick
were often forming plans, when by themselves,
of running away as soon as they grew bigger,
and certainly no thought of staying in such
home day after they were " free" ever en-
tered their minds. He was sowing the wind
and must reap the whirl wind. No loving
hands Of children would rejoice TO minister
to his declining years. No sturdy young
shoulders would gladly lift the burden Of
care and labor from his, when that burden
had become too heavy for him to bear. No,
there would be quiet calculations made as to
how long it would probably be before the pile
he had amassed should pass into other hands.
And when he did at last go to give an &C
count of his stewardship, though there might
be decorous outward show of sables, there
would be no bitter mourning for revered
and beloved father.
1t is an old Spanish proverb that " there
are no ungrateful children" If we have
trained our children so that they have any
thing to be grateful for. they will not fail to
remember it. 1t is true we may have pam
pered their sel6shness by unrestrained in
diligence Of every within, but that is no cause
for gratitude, and we seldom see such chill
dren other than supremely selfish, 1t is the
parent who enters wisely into all the innocent
Joys of his children, who makes home the
brightest spot on earth TO them, whose mem
DRY is ever fragrant, even after his head has
long been under .the willows. His children
will ever rejoice to rise up and call him
blessed. - ultivotor.