Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1870-04-26

en- nor the trees gone up inso mid air,
but were the same as on other Sab
bsths. Peggoty Plimpton thanked
Mildie Faunce with honest heartiness :;
and MiIdie, as she got into Der faith
er'S large open wagon and pulled up
the buffalo robes about her, felt she
had done a really good act tais morn
ing. 81
where's father, Thomas q she ask
ed, as she got in.
"He walked cross the feHs, Miss, -
replied the driver. Before fSey went
off, Harry Foster came p3 to the
side of the wagon, and, toufhing his
hat, congratulated her on thks'success.
ful commencement of her neR8career." :"
"No compliments, Mr.. H!ky Eos,
ter, if you please" was heEkEply. al
did it to please myself and Peggoty.
But 1 like it so much l think l may
join the choir; and if | do, yo, sir,
have got to join the forces"
"Indeed," said Mr.. Foster, laugh
ingly adding "Good-byew as the
horses moved off.
As they rolled along they pissed
group after group of the returning
church folks, who pleasantly bowed
as they passed, but MiIdie seemed to
be looking out for some ore she Miss
ed. Suddenly, on turning a comer,
her face frightened. Within sight
were two fgures-an aged woman
and young man on whose arm she
leaned, he himself limping with a
heavy cane.
"Driye slower, Thomas she said
to the driver; and as the wagon pass,
ed she nodded, plsasantly, to the two
who returned her salutations with low
bows. The old woman seemed quite
infrm, but her companion was fne
manly fellow, with burned brown face
dark hair, and eyes shining brightly
beneath heavy eyebrows. There was
a peculiar expression on his face too
as Ee bOwed-a light that flashed but
for a moment across bis features
which, if | mistake not, MiIdie saw
for the young girl colored the slight
est bit in the world, and told Thomas
it was cold for sCcn slow driving
You might have offered old Dame
Graham a seat, Miss Mildie, lie repii
cd. Your father would"
"She seems well supported" quiet
ly said MiIdie, and they soon reached
home.
That same Sabbath afternoon John
Graham sat, in the warmth of the
sunlight, in front of his mothers neal
little house, near the waterfall o
@, enjoying his afternoon reverie
Left on his own resources at alOu
fourteen years of age, with his moth
er to support, and his total posses
sions a few acres Of sturdy orchard
growth and field land, he bad now
reached nearly twenty-five without ev
er having asked favor from rich o.
poor. His father had been a Scotch
man Of good degree, and when b,
died had bequeathed to his son al
his own pride Of nature, his uacon
querab.e will, and the gnawing feel
ing innate in such natures allied t.
humble Circumstances-the feeling
that the world had gone unjustly anC
hard with them, and they owed moth
ing TO it, having wrung what littl,
they had had ont Of it by their owl
hard blows and toll. 5ohn Graham
had been one Of the frSt 20 90 ou
from his Latire town when the gun.
at Sumter ruag through Vermont
and had come back only when his lcf
knee, shattered and shot through b,
q treacherous bullet, had refused It
carry him through more fighting.
As he now sat there, in the sun
slant light. before his mothers door
with his fine dark face glowing in tht
brightness, his cane lying across hi
lap, seemingly reminding you wher
he had been. ana what scenes he hat
been through, to make it needful 70
such strong frame to carry the poo
support, you could not but feel he wa
no common man who sat before you
! We meet such doubtless, all of US, a
we go along through life, without nc
ticing them, they move before US 5,
unobtrusively and silently; but wheI
we note them carefully, or are brough
in contact with them, we feel con
scious we have received impression
that last longer than the memories 0
the casual meetings Of everyday eA
perience.
The dick of The gate-latch arouse,
our dreamer from his reverie, an
Mildie Faunce, with a little whit
basket on her arm, entered the gal
den patch. Graham started, but bel
out his hand, warmly bidding be
good-afternoon.
How lovely all looks about her,
Colonel" commenced Mildie, laugl
ingly. "And your chair outside
Been lighting your battles over agai
this afternoon, suppose" ?"'
Il wish you would not call me Co
oneI. even in your gay mood, Mis-
Mildie," replied Graham, reddening
"YOu know l was but poor privat
with our Mountain boys, and 70
should not jest about u.s."
Truly, and l did not know yor
dreamings were so sober, Mr.. CIR
ham," returned Mildie, with moe
gravity. "And is your mother in
, | have brought her down some goo,
!, les for her good old self"
81 know she will be glad to see yo
She is reading there by the windoy
Walk IT," He resumed his chair c
the green sward as she entered Il
house, and for some time seemed 10
in thought; his head leaning on b
hands, clasped firmly over the hes
Of his heavy cane. 4 little later,
) Mildie came out, accompanied by h
mother, he got up, and reaching dow
his hat from the door-post where
hung. said, quite soberly:
l "Miss Nildie, l will keep up alor
: the road with you a ways, ifyou ha'
no objection.
J Indeed | have none. Good b
; Mrs. Graham, and as the warm
! comes on, try and get up and see
: do"