Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-12-20
The Leisure Hour.
D.zI'E'S OLD FRIE.vDS.

Mr.. David Durham came into the village
to hunt up his old kith and kin. He was
Mr.. David Dunham now, with new suit
on and money in his pocket, whereas the
thriltless barefoot youth who had tramped
out of town by this road eight years ago,
whistlng, and with his hands in his pock-
cts had been recognized all through the
village as "Dave," which cognomen eX-
pressed in brief his social position and adj
vantages. Yet those who had known the
care free, sunburned lad might have dis
covered traces of him still in the frank blue
eye and easy bearing of the stranger.
This was Main street up which he was
sauntering. 1t was bordered rs of old by
a hem of emerald grass, nbbled close by
an occasional stray COW or wandering goat.
1t was speckled breezily with sunshine and
shadow from tho overarching trees which
sheltered the comfortable, well-to-do man
sions
Dave, as | have said, had disappeared
| down that respectable street years ago with
an old straw hat on his head, and whist
| ling snatch of n song. He came back,
whistling still, with a new hat, few gray
streaking the black locks beneath it, and
perhaps that was all the difference. He
thought so. How could he be signally
changed when everything here was so like
what he remembered?
Beyond this, he recolected, was the trad
ing street, a thrifty avenue with shops lit
tie and big, where country wares, plows,
brooms, queens-ware, silk dresses and rib
bons were sold from opposite counters, and
trade was varied and brisk; there was the
old coffin shop, and the beer-house with
the overfiowing glass not yet empty on the
creaking sign before it. And after a spell
of business the little street meandered off
in the direction of the sea-shore, and for
got its calling, wandering along the pebby
beach in sight of far-off sails and smoky
distances. Down there under the cliffs the
old scow used to swing in the shadows
the old scow in which he used to go pad
ding about with Hannah-Hannah, who
never shirked work, and always helped
him to bail out. He wanted to see her and
"the girls" her prudent elder sisters, who
were wont TO anathematize her when she
came home, barefoot and muddy, with her
blue apron full Of clans.
David had seen many changes since he
lived up in that old red farm house with
the old farmer and his wife, the torment of
the girls aud the comrade of Hannah. lie
had winered up in the pine woods, far up
in the soitudes of Maine, floating down
with the men on the rans when the spring
frcshets came. He knew the sap and free
dom of primitive life, and once ne had
been nearly wrecked on the rapids but he
had always remembered the old water-log-
ged cralt and the little girl in the chocl,
apron-black eyed, pock marked and agile
who had padded about in it with him.
Did such girls ever grow to be women? he
wondered. lie tried to make a situation
in his mind that suited Hannah, but she
didn't suit the situation. Impossible to i'm
agne the quaint, wilful little thing settled
down into the ordinary avocations of wo-
men. He must wat-wait till he got to tho
old farmhouse.
The tide was coming, and there was a IA
miliar smell Of salt air and shell-fsh all
about the place as he approached.
But the old red house was shut up nc
smoke issued from the chimney, no sign
of life was visible in the window or door,
way. A lonely ash tree near the fence
turned up its changeling leaves mocking-
ly as of old a solitary bird, started by his
footsteps, winged its way from the branch
es.
"This does lcok like changeW muttered
Mr.. David to himself, eyeing the weed
grown garden lingorlngly. What spell