The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1872-10-03

ID was ,he arsi umo IN my lie ] has
beard q prayer, the mans feryor ifa
pressed ne very seasihly. q you may
suppose.
As We were closely pressed for quar-
ters, The stranger had 20 share ms straw
bunk, aud be did not neglect The sddt
tionsl opportunity to urge me @ make
niAa Of myself
II you wiz learn 70 read, sad hei
win send you newspaper every week,
This generosity won my heart. Tbs
next morning he obtained my iather'
permission for me 70 ito the post-ofhe'
every Saturday, IN consideration Of gen
eral good conduct during the week. Al
the post-ofiice was several miles distant
and should be obliged 10 20 on foot, 1
may seem strange thA, | regarded thi
permission as a very Kind eondescensiol
on tho part Of my father; but indeed
never was 50 grateful 70 him for any aci
Of his life.
lean never recall without smile, th'
excitement attendant ou my first post
office trip. If did not run every steI
Of the way Il was because my breath did
not hold out don't suppose there were
dozen houses 10 the hamlet where The
Office was located, but | remember how
impressed / was BY the hustle Of the lit
Tic country hamlet. Il conldn't be sup
posed that | asked for that paper az
would ask for anything else. Ny very
heart stopped beating when the post
master looked out with pen behind hi
ear and asked me what / wanted.
Is there paper here for me? said |.
Who for? he asked.
For me.
Well, who is mel
Tell aim yonr name, said a pleasant
looking woman, who seemed to be wat
ing for something, too.
My namel | was not sure had any
| was always called Tim at home. SO
called out, Tint
Well, you ought to have heard hC
loungers about the place laugh then
Even the nice lady Joined in 1t.
Tell him your fathers name, S aid Sue
He's old Tim and I'm little Tim, said
/, feeling as if must cry.
There was another shout.
It's Timothy somebody, said the LADY
Please look for Timothy, and perhaps
you may find it.
Then she pat hand on my shoulder
and patted 1t a little.
Here's a Timothy Scraggin, said The
postmaster, holding up paper and p'ep
ing into the wrapper.
Then | remembered hearing nan
who got mad at father call him 'OlC
Scraggin."
That's it, said /, and off darted Ike I
pickerel.
When got away from the village,
sat down on the ground and took gooc
look at my treasure. hope | may be al
happy again, but am afraid never sh.ll
After / had carefully examined every
part of the paper, studied the wrapper
II was my name, for the postmaster lac
read it--Master Timothy Scraggin. Tc
think of being addressed as master, snt
that my name was written out II
full! just then looked at my naleC
feet.
A boy that takes paper, thought |
ought to wear shoes.
Two weeks from that day, father pl(
potatoes and bought me the first pair o
new shoes ever wore.
The next day being Sunday, mother
who knew mething about reading, s.
sisted me to spell out the shortest words
and every night during the week ! ie
voted my time to learning to read it, BE
fore the winter was over could rat
tolerably well.
A year later, the minister came to III
again and | stood up by his side, m'
read some verses which be had himel
written for the paper. When had in
ished, saw the tears creeping down BIZ
gray beard, and mother was leaning on
the table, with her face in her apron.
| Hem! said father. I'll sell tater
and take paper for myself.
] And hp did