The Van Buren press., 1871-04-11
Fred's New Year-A Story for Boys
BY ROLLO RAMBLER.

Your kind hearts would throb with
sympathy, my boy friend, for little Fred
and his mother, if the years Of tue wild.
ows struggle were written. Ten years
before, her husband had died, leaving be.
hind him the little cottage. his good
name, baby Fred, and money enough for
Doctors bills and funeral expenses
nothing more.
Since then she had lived for her boy.
For his sake she exerted herself She
was his nstructress until he was large
enough for the town school
She took pride in his progress, and in
him-what mother does not in her boy
and worked much harder than she
ought, or than he knew, to keep him
dressed we'll enough for the village
school.
1t was late il the fall and necessity re.
quired that he should have new suit OF
clothes for winter She made herself
nearly sick by overwork while earning
the small amount necessary to purchase
the cloth, and was quite sick by the time
she bad them ready fer him &c wear.
Fred insisted upon staying at home to
take care of her. Never was there more
loving or more patient little attendant a,
a sick bed than he. His natural adapta-
bility to circumstances and fine sense OF
propriety gave him the nicely OF touch,
the light footstep and the soothing, quiet
motions, so essential when with inyalIds.
Kind ncighbors volunteered their services
but Fred, who had a previous experience
in setting the table, washing dishes, and
otherwise assisting his mother about tht
house, now added to these valuable ac'
quirements, that of nurse. His mother
had taught him that nothing belittles boy
or girl that is necessary to be done. il
he could assist his poor feeble mother a,
any time, when she was doing so mucl,
for him, Why shouldn't he help herr
so he thought.
Rest was what she needed more than
anything in the way OF pills or lotions,
and so. after little she was convalesc
ent and sat in the large rocking chair
while Fred was quietly by-poring over
his history, determined that his class
shouldn't get ahead Of him if he was at
home,--rcady to do her slightest bidding.
This care was all very grateful to her,
and so was the much needed rest But
meantime the last quarter OF the year was
near its close and where was money for
the doctor, the store bill, and for the
coal This troubled her, And all she
could do was to sit and think and pray,
and trust the All Father, and be patient
1t was the last afternoon OF the year,
grand: slcighing, glorious coasting and
skating, but Fred wouldn't be tempted
from his mother. So he sat all the long
afternoon until the whistle Of the Boston
train told him that it was tea time.
He wouldn't worry his mother wthIuse
less regrets and complaints, but would he
have been real live boy, i'll he hadn't in
his heart wished for such things made
life plsasanter to many boys that be
knew? Christmas had passed with no
present to gladden. his eyes, and to NOR
row was New Years, and there would be
no Jolly time for him as all the rest were
anticipating But be wasn't bit selfish
in his longings for different circumstance
for he wanted his mother to share with
him.
For her sake he kept sunshine on bis
face while he set the table neatly and
quietly as any girl could have done it
Then he said he would run u the posi-
Office after his magazine. His cap wa'
on and he was off with a rush. What
was there no mistake? He got large
letter covered over with foreign stamps
and marks, and there was no mistake. Il
was plainly addressed, Mrs. Mary b
Strong, Evanston, Illinois, L. S. A. y
Fred made dash for home that precipi
tated him against Il travelled looking gen
tleman who had a dark, heavily bearded
face, in manner that nearly destroyed
his own equipoise. The whiskers and
tangled hair were suggestive at lndis
iungles; in the mans face werc indca
tions OF a tropical sun; a massive ring
Of virgin gold upon his finger, and th'
heavy cluster Of diamonds that caught to
pether his careless neck scarf, told Of thu
lands Of gold and precious stones his
clothes sat upon him with an orienta
looseness, and when he spoke, his tones
were warm and cherry, with an unmis
taxable accent Of Timbuctoo
"Hallo, my boy" said the cheery
voice while a strong arm caught him al
be was falling. Can you tell me where
Mrs Molie Strong lives p
"Yes, sir, in surprise, "Tm he'
son"
And now, my dear young reader,
must leave you to imagine all know
about Mrs. Strong's East India brother
how he and his letter reached her at the
same time what time Of rejoicing there
was how rich he was, and how happy
they were together: and what genuine
new year it was in very truth to each Of
them.
So to these patient walters the new
year was one Of golden fruition.
D., f~s IL peAaa