St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1868-04-10
Hon. RYLAND FLETCHER.
4 Ren,iniscence Of THAI. !Sterens.
| am very truly yours,
LUKE Il. POLAND.

of northern Vermont lies the good farm
the writer, while passing Il few months
in that hill country, with the pastor OF
the village, called one day on an aged
parishioner, who lived in 4 small red
house in the outskirts of the town. 1t
was during the war, and the wrinkled
hands of the good woman We're employed
i'll knitting socks for the soldiers. OF
course the conversation turned naturally
upon the affairs of the country. While
talking of the army, the president, and
congress. the name of Stevens was men,
toned. Instantly the large, black eyes
OF our hostess frightened. and she SAID {:
1T IL over there, on that farm, that
'Thaddeus Stevens was born and she
pointed to a gray farm house in sight, 4
mile or more across the hills
You knew him, then ," asked.
Indeed did. ma am :" was the en-
thusiastic reply. We used to sit in the
same seat. in the old school house down
in the hollow yonder.'
1t required little questioning to draw
from the willing and garrulous old soul,
the story Of the early life OF her former
school mate.
The family We're poor" she said,
.'a.l Mrs. Stevens was one of those
hard working mothers, who toll from
morning till night, weel, in and week
out She would have worked her fingers
to the bone. that her boy might get book
| learning. Thaddcus was sickly boy,
and very lame Folks never supposed
| they'd be able to raise him. But they
did Why, remember him as though
/ had seen him Yesterday. lie was still
and quick like different from the rest of
boys-and sometimes they'd laugh at
him, boy-like, and mimic his linping
walk. They didn't mean any harm, but
Thaddeus was sensitive little fellow.
and it ranked I've always thought
perhaps that's the reason he has never
been back to the old homestead
care any of the family left here?"
asked.
No. not any near kin. The old folk:
lied many years ago, of course ; for I'm
an old woman now and she stoppcc
TO hcave a sigh over the dead and buried
years. but, dcary me, how plain
can see that old school house. Scnatl
Jones. she was our teacher, and | re
member she used to 20 round and tap u:
on the head with her thimble finger It
make us sit still Pears to me, to thi
day, that | can feel the dent of Senatl
Jones thimble on my head. | wonder
if Thaddeus Stevens ever remembers the
old times faint at all likely. He''
had so many other things to think of
Eve heard that he's got to be a great MAJ
amongst EN- there at Washington
As said, four years have passed sine,
the story was told me and some item
of the account have escaped my memory
But think | shall never lose the i'm
preston of that sad, silent boy, ploddin!
wearily and haltingly over those Yer
mont hills-smarting under rldicule, an,
battling with poverty-but full of higI
+ resolve in spite of all. Who can tel
. how much of the power which is tel
, throughout the nation to-day, may hav
been wrought into the character OF Ihad
deus Stevens by the cruel struggle of tha
early warfare? The strength Of tn
hills | thought as stood that night OIL
t the steps of the low farm house, and sav
the sun set behind the Green Mountains
10 miles to the westward, while tn
crimson flush of the after glow reddene'
t the white hills whose pyramidal peak
are sharply defined against the sky a
: many miles to the east. How man
t men who, generation hence are t
t stand as giants among these .towerin
e hills In how many obscure homes
D patient woman labors, ready to coin he
f very life's blood, that the boy of he
= pride may rise and shine, when her ow
i eyes are closed, and her own toll harden
e ed hands folded i'll their last-I almol
: said their first,-long rest :?