Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1873-03-18

wallet ana TOOK out long, black, SickN
twist, and taking up the bread.knife Gu
of some bits and swallowed them, theI
mounted my little chair and began sing
ing at the top of my voice:
Bread ia the road that leads to DEATH"
only knew that one line, but Il wa
sufficient, and | thought rather appro-
pirate for the III omentous occasion.
In few moments felt so badly that
wished I'll not swallowed il. In n few
moments moro thought I'd rather churI
all day than feel so sick; it didn't seen
so interesting.
Then | ran to the door and called
"On, mamma. come down, come down :.
She thrust her head out OF the window
and said blandly: "Has the butter come
Oh. csild. what's the matter? You're a.
white as II sheetl"
| Iopcncd my mouth to speak. but
trcmbled all over, and mumbed out
IVA a.a.aghi a.a hi"
She ran down with the baby tucked
under her arm like an umbrella, dropped
it, and Snatched me up so pale, and sick
and wilted. and laid me on her bed and
began rubbing me.
"llow do you feelP What made you
sick Where arc You hurt? Are you
posoncd9 You're always handling and
tasting strange things. and now expect
you've been and gone and killed yourself
with some vile plant or other Oh, my
child! what will do? Such IL young
'un. so queer aud strange! Oh, my poor
ZelIe!" and she wrung her hands in a
paroxysm OF griei.
just then sickened and threw up
something, aud she held my head and
moaucd. Oh. was very. very sick; ii
was death almost; and | felt so feeble
that couldn't exert myself enough 10
tell her. Pretty soon she smelt the TO-
bacco. and she said why, seems 10 me
! smell tobacco !" And she shifted 10 the
right, and shifted TO the left, but did not
mistrust me. She did not find any link
between my sudden illness and loalhsome
smell.
After severe sickness grew better and
my wish was gratilied. | lay in her bed f,
my head on her pillow. her counierpape
over me. and her kind hands made the
toast and ;ea aud propped me up and fed
me.
called for the mirror, and was per-
ieclly satisfied with the real face so near
ly ppruximaling TO the interesting ideal
face OF my soicilous dreams. was
propped up in bed, pale, and wan, and
exhausted. when my father came 10
supper Ny mother told him the dolelul
tale with good deal OF visible white in
her scared eyes. lie sat on the bedside,
aud said he was sorry. and hoped ! would
DC well enoughio ride old Jabcz to water
the next day.
leltr very serene and pleasant by this
time, lying there, the chief point OF at
anl had paid so dearly for the
qualification that didn't mind an occa-
sional probe that my conscience gave
me.
When my mother had supper ready,
see said: "Zella, don't zee the bread.
knitc; do YOU know where it is ?"
started up scared, and hurriedly re-
piled: Maybe its got in papa's tobacco
wallet; who knows?" Then settled
down, land the subsequent proceedings
me no more"
1t jus, REQUIRED to me that instant that
| had slipped the bread.knifc away. side
by side with the huge black plug.
My mother looked at me strangely. ]
felt 50 drowsy just then, and closed my
eyes Immediately She stepped inside
the cellar door, and pretty soon. sue said
in q soft tone, not meant Tor my ears :
Come here, Aleck."
Papa went. and heard q low buzz Of
voices, a suppressed giggle, more whis-
pering, some pleasant alteration, q little
more laughter, then she said: "Well, that
is the force OF example; she thinks
you do is right, and manly and
she takes you for pattern. Poor little
thing. I'll never say word about it to
her; she's suffered enough. But. Aleck,
you'd ought to be ashamed of your filthy
habit after this"
1t seems they gave me credit for want.
ing TO learn TO use tobacco because my
papa did, and was very willing they
should believe it so.
That old churn was one of the clouds
in my childhood's summer sky for many,
many long years; but at last our father
replaced it with one by which could 81.
and read and churn, and make pleasant
and enjoyable pastimc of this necessary
item of housework. Then the rolls of
butter seemed favored with sweet poetry,
and stories. and as | spread il on my
bread | was reminded of this bit Of
descriptive scenery, and that thrilling
narrative, and this rare poem-good
things | had read while churning.
The old churn was used to keep nuts
in for years, and then onions, and | was
sad and sorry both when q boy ran his
sled against it and it tumbied to pieces,
an old shattered thing.
So it is with very serious aud thought
iul degree OF revenge that | use one Of
the old slaves for poker for the little