The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1872-11-15

SEEKING ONES VOCATION,

boy; better stick to the farm" said my old
father as he clambered into his creaking gig
and shook the reins over Dobbin's neck.
Tom threw up his handsome head.
"I'm quite convinced that the farm ism
my vocation, Mr.. Somerville," he replied
loftily. 81 must go somewhere-to the city
where my talents can be appreciated
"Well, well, responded the old man
''have it your own way. You and Jennie
know best. "Tis a maxim of mine never to
meddle with young married folks. Pad
die your own canoe; if you run aground
you have no one but yourself to blame
Good-bye-good-bye Whatever you do
take good care of the little one"
DoDbin started off on trot, and the
tears filled my eyes, and an aching sensation
half choked me.
"Tom," ventured, turning toward my
handsome husband; ''maybe fathers right;
and this is snug little home after all |"
Tom turned upon me with angry re-
proach.
II didn't think it ofyou, Jennie! Would
you have me bury myself here, and hoe corn
for living? Have you no ambition at all 7
and you the mother of SOM l must go,
tell you, and seek my yocatioLn@,'ve tai
ents and l can't afford to bury them"
Tom and | had been married twelve
months or more, and the pretty rural farm
on which we lived, Walnut Hill, by name
was my old fathers wedding present.
We had everything we needed-a taste
full cottage, flowers, birds, fruits and ber-
ries, and well-tilled, finely stocked farm
But Tom was discontinued. Tom was
scholar i'll his way. He had been to college q
little read law u little, read medicine lit.
tie, and Pm not sure lie had not dabbled
in divinity. Ofcourse such manifold ac-
quirements must not he suffered to run to
waste. Tom must seek his vocation.
The first step would be to sell Walnut
Hill, for one cannot find ones vocation
without money.
We wrote to papa about it, and he made
us u visit.
why, Tom, the farm is looking up" he
said glancing round at the well-tilled fields
II don't think your plans wise one"
But Tom thought otherwise, and the re
suit was that Walnut Hill was sold with
its golden harvest ungarnered, and sold at
rather low figure.
All our pretty household treasures went
too, and late in the spring we went to the
city.
Tom rented large house in an aristocrat-
ic square, and brought in the furniture
We were very elegant. Spacious drawing
rooms and velvet carpets and silken drap-
cry. A cook i'll the Kitchen and Il nursery
maid up stairs. Tom bought buggy too
and stylish horse. 1t would never do, he
argued, to make poor appearance in the
outset.
Then the search for a vocation began
but somehow the vocation did not turn up
Strange enough too, Tom thought. He
tried medicine, but it wouldn't do, and the
city was run over with lawyers. He drove
to and fro daily, but unlike Noah's dove
he returned without the olive leaf
We gave grand dinners and made friends
with the city magnates, and they in turn
made us wondrous promises, which re-
manned promises to the end.
| Midsummer came! The heavens were
like brass, the streets like fiery plowshares
and pitiless sun seething overhead. Ba-
by fell ill as the hot weather set in, and oul
expenses were swallowing up all our means
How longed for the cool, green shades
of Walnut Hill! And so did poor Tom
but he would not confess 1t. He was sur,
of his vocation still--he would find it il
good time.
Baby grew worse, and the doctors recon-
mended the seaside or bracing country air
but such luxuries were out OF the question
Lets go to iather's Tom," en,reated
but Tom would not hear to it.
He had sold the farm against the ole
mans will, and he would not 90 to him fo
help. The summer days that followed wer,
very bitter, hot, pitiIess days, with tina
scorching, glaring sun, and never waving
tree for shelter