Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1869-09-29
From the Little Corpora
How a Tyrant LOST One Slave.

From the Litnc Corporal
How Tyrant Lost One Slave.
BY FAITH LATrMER
" Ma, do give me dollar please. | can't
60 home without it,
Why not, Oliycr|
Because | promised to pay Tom White
what | owe him, and Hiram Blake, too.
How much do you owe, my sou 2'
Half dollar to Ben, and eighteen pence
to Tom, and-O-a good deal more
" What have you to pay with ?"
d" Just sixponce, and that is all"
Aunt Abby sat in her easy chair, and her
knitting needles clicked very fast, during this
little talk between her niece and Oliver; then
She laid the stocking in her lap, took Of her
spcctacles, and looked at him as if her sharp
eyes were searching through his pockets for
that smooth, old silver sixpcnce.
Oliver had been lying on the floor, twist
ing chair with his foot but he started
when Aunt Abby said,
" Ten yeqrs DID, ami a bankrupt"
70 be sure, he didn't know what bankrupt
meant do you p but he went out, looking
as if he felt small enough to 60 out through
the key hole Then Aunt Abby aud her
niece had one Of those wise talks that moth
ers and aunties sometimes have, when mothers
aud boys are blessed with such dear pre-
cious, silyer-haired auntie as Aunt Abby. The
result was, that instead of divers going
home to Boston with his mother, he was to
spend two more weeks in the country and
Aunt Abby made this promise " will
teach Oliver to keep out Of debt"
The next day the old stage ratified up to
the door, and mother and two little sisters
were snug in the back seat, aud Oliver kissed
them good bye but, before the sound of
wheels died away, Oliver had gone over the
stone wall, and was turning somerscts in the
broad fields Of new mown hay
The great horn had sounded at noon, and
Oliver had eaten dinner with the hay makers,
when Aunt Abby called him into the sitting
room with her, and told him to SIT down at
the old-iashioned writing desk Before him
was clean sheet Of paper, an ink stand, and
quill pen
" Now, my boy" said she, &c want you to
write down what you owe-don't leave out
one cent"
He was Just learning to write, and he sat
awhile, dreading IT, and trying to think,
! How still it was-not a sound but the tall,
black clock in the corner, ticking so loud it
seemed to say, Write-writen just as he
finished and had added it al. up, Aunt Abby
came back and looked at the following ac-
count:
Borrowed of Ben Fisher 2Oc lOc 2Oc, 9 80
" Tom White, Isl
q" Enoch Messenger. for slate
pencil, .Gi
" Hiram Blake for cream cakes. 10
Tim Fales' knife, and lost it, 80
Benny AIlan's ball, and lost it, 20
Totd, sl65
Now, Oliver" said she, do you want to
pay all this ?"
" Yes, ma'am, just as quick as get home"
You shall do it but am going to have
you earn the money"
Then she took the paper and pinned it up
on the dark door post at the sile Of the
kitchen door, just where everybody came in
for it was at the end of the house, under the
broad elm tree, whose shadows danced in the
sunlight all over the great door yard. Then
she brought a square basket to Oliver, and
said:
ou hldl u MAll DlEAA INV EV AhA
pick this full Of currauts.'
Behind the hoase, up on the hill, then a
little way across its green top, and on the
soping side, was the garden, and Oliver well
knew the way to the long rows Of currant
bushes 1t was slow work, filling the basket,
for many red, luscious lunches found their
way down somebody's throat At last it was
full, and he helped Aunt Abby pick them off
the stems into a glass dish watching how
they rolled like shining beads slipping off a
string. After that, Aunt Abby measured
them in bright, tin cup, and then went to
the door post and wrote down something with
red chalk she carried in her pocket. The
next day she wanted plenty Of whorteberries !;
she sent over to grandfather's for all the cous-
| ins to 90 with Oliver to the pasture near the
cave. How merrily they went, over stone
walls, climbing rail fences when they couldn't
let down the bars, across fields, and through
the woods, until they reached the cave. Here
cousin Nat told the younger ones Of the old
Indian who used to live there, and was found,
at last, dead sitting up against the rock.
They whispered softly, for awhile, as if they
feared the Indian might come back to his old
home but they soon found plenty of berries,
and they were busy enough.
At noon they spread out on a fiat rock the
nice lunch Aunt Abby had put up, and made
drinking cups Of broad, green leaves, dipping
up sparkling water from the brook.
They picked berries again until everything
was full that could hold berries, and then the
stained lips talked nearly all the way home.
The next day, one of the eyentful ones of
the week. was baking day. Oliver was sent
to pick up brush to heat the oven, and then
to gather chips from the wood yard That
wonderful wood shed, with one side open to
the road how every passer by admired that
wood pile, that never grew less the round
even sticks, each showing where the saw re-
vealed the tell-tale circles and put in so
evenly that the whole looked like vast wall
Of mosaic work Oliver gathered his wood,
and then, in the great kitchen, stood looking
in wonder at the table full of pies, bread,
Indian pudding, and loayes of sweet, brown
bread while the flames cracked, and the
oven roared as if inpatient for its treasures.
Another day his work was to gather pears
from the crooked old pear tree, that was
planted in the long ago, when Aunt Abby
was little girl aud her father had just come
| back from the war
AT last Sunday came.
"Well," thought Oliver, " here's one day
that won't have to work and earn any
thing"
lie had been to church. and, at noon, had
taken walk in the church yard, and spelled
out the names on the old, moss-grown grave
stones, and been back to church again, and
then come home in the middle of the long
summer afternoon. Aunt Abby called him
into the best parlor, and while she turned
over the leaves of great book he was look.
ing around There was the fire place, filled
with bunches Of asparagus, and vases of fresh
flowers on the high mantel piece. He was
busy wondering if anything alive ever did