Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1871-06-15
WOODSTOCK, VT, THURSDAY, JUNE Is, 1871.

one feels Il kind act sooner than the
aged.
'The boy meant to give it to you, and
did not want you to see how much it
was. Il was the act of boy, and a
good boy too, think. What did you
say his name was?
Tom Granger
Granger! | know the name: and if
he is any kin to the man / loved, and
has the same heart, he will make noble
man. You've heard me tell of the time
when ] was a sojer, an sbefore | got this
hurt, which made me cripple for life.
Yes, in Mexico
And there's another thing | never
told you Of, because it might seem al
most like boasting. At Buena Vista
saved a captains life, who was fighting
to protect his colors, with half q dozen
lances at him, and he with nothing but
his sword. | was young and sprightly,
then, and we went at them greasers to-
gether, with bayonets fixed. They are
not stout-Icarted race, them Mexicans,
and we came in time to save the captain
and colors; bat | got poke from a
lance through the thigh before it was
over. The Captains name was Gran.
ger, and I've been thinking whether he
vas any kin to this boy who was 50 kind
to you. never had Il better or truer
friend than he was, and he had me made
Il sergeant in his company. But he was
taken prisoner at the BeIan Gate, and
was hurt so bad that they sent him
home, and never saw him again.
'Oh, grandpa, this boy must be his
son, then. I'll believe it till | see him,
and then III ask. But why did the cap
tain never lock for you?'
who can say. Perhaps he never
got well, and Pve been such u hermit
since, it was hard to tack me. I'd
give year from my short life to know
tbat he lived, and TO hold his hand in
mine again
Poor grandpa she SAID how your
eyes flash when you talk over those old
times
Aud after that | feel what a helpless
useless wreck | am, sitting here all day
while you work for me. Little Sun
beam, if had the power, you'd never,
never sod them pretty fingers with hard
work, and sometimes | almost doub.
Gods justice; but not for long, lit G
girl. His ju,tice is sure
Don't talk about my work, grandpa.
When my father and mother died, you
brought me here and sent me to school,
when you had nothing but your pension
to live On. Work ! I'll work my fingers
to The bone for you. And now pm 90
inc out to buy little tea, and make you
q nice strong cup, and you'll like it,
She fitted out like the sunbeam after
which he called her, and he was left
alone. The old man bowed his head,
and the tears trckled through bis wrink.
Id fingers.
Jarvis Wentworth had been q soldier Of
the republic, and he fought behind Scott
to the gates Of Mexico, where, in the
last battle, he was crippled for life. He
came home, and shortly after his only
daughter dying left little Milly to his
care. Since then she has earned the
name he had given her, Little Sunbeam,
for she was indeed the sunshine Of his
home. The old man idolized her, and
she deserved nothing less at his hands,
for she made the little dingy brown
house bright by her presence. Labor
for him was pleasure, and her cheer
ful voice singing some sweet song was
his morning music. She loved him ten
derly, and it was pleasure and not a
toll to do his work. They were very
poor, but mutual consent made their
poor fare equal to the costly vands of
the rich. The Girl was of the domes.
tic nature, and her ready hands found
work TO do which he never dreamed of.
When the young wnter-greens were
coming up, she took her basket and
went to the places where they grew, and
made the little bunches which she sold
on the cars. This did not last long, but
by means Of it she picked up here and
there few pennies, which were u great
help to them, straitened as they often
were for money. Nothing gave her
greater pleasure than to see the brave
old face brighten when she returned sue
cesstul from the train and when she
had bad luck, and no one would buy, as
happened, he would say, 'All
the luck can't come to US, Little Sun.
beam; if not to day, why, then to-mor-
row. It'a all the same so cheer up
And when the winter-greens were gone
she had other means to make money.
She picked berries and sold them in the
village, or else sent them by Jim Math-
ews, who was brakeman on the Central,
to sell for her in the great city few
miles away. Every one knew and re-
spected Little Sunbeam, and her good
friends were continually making pres
ents of some little delicacy for her
grandfather, which she was not able to
buy.
They burned coal in the winter time
because there was no one to chop wood
for them, and | am afraid the tiremen
along the line dropped more coal from
the engine than was really necessary,
but it was always when they saw Milly
with her little wagon cleaning coal by
the side of the track. And old Joe
Planter, the goodhearted negro, who
was wood sawyer in general to the vii
lage, sawed the little wood they used
Inr hltln or nnLhinW nnanr the shallow