Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1873-10-10

Idesplse this worlds good things. fo
haven't auy graves where you feel as if you
heart was shut in and smoIhered, and 70
bein' tired and mopin.' I do think there j
virtne in good cup of tea >
Her patience and gentleness touched him
He drew up his chair to the table, wher'
his father was sitting, and answered her ii
a soft tone:
Il suppose you are right, mother, bn
I'm not just myself TO night
Then he ate his supper in silence, and af
ter it was over, sat for few moments think
ing silently At last he took courage anc
opened tie subject of which his mind was
full
/ Father. James Mccormick is wanting :
place. Don't you think, with you to over
!, see him, be could do the work on the farm
/. tits summer 2"
| Mrs Osgood did not speak, but the cup
she was wiping fell to the floor With a sharp
crash For full mipute it was only sound
which broke the stiffness.
Al last the old man answered
Il don't know, John-may be be could
{ never Ike to have any strangers working
on the place in my time. did it all my
SELF till you were old enough TO help me,
and everything has prospered under your
hand, John. Still, may be- James McCor,
mick could. Did you think Of leaving.
John p
II don't feel satisfied, father, to be a
farmer in this small way |. want to do
something more with my life. You could
hire man to do all the work DO for TWEEN
ty dollars month. and want to see What
am worth somewhere else"
| Then there waa another long silence =
The mother finished washing up her dishes,
and came and sat between her husband and
her son /; her face was very white. and her
hands shaking little. After while the
old man reached out and took one Of her
bling hands in bis own.
"We mustn't blame John, mother" he
said, trying to speak oheerfuly. What
he feels ism t unnatural Other young men
says the same. Very few Of them are con
tented nowadays to live their fathers lives
over again. Only it's come sudden. Don't
think we blame you. boy Its all fair and
right-only sudden
John gotu and vent up stairs. His moth
er's pale silence, his fathers attempt at
cheerfuluess, seemed more than be could
possibly bear. He went away to his own
room and SAT down by the window, Over
across the fields light burned steadily
He knew it vas the lamp in Angeline Will
marth's parlor Was she worth all this,
that he was making these two old people
suffer Was he sure that she would love
him as they did ? Was he sure that she
would love him at all ? And in this untried
life, in this great world wkere 80 many ia !
ed, how cid he know that he should succeed?
What was he going to do? How vague all
hi purposes were-jqst dream, born Of a
soft sp.ing night and Angie Wilmarth S
fair face And for it he vas going TO over
turn the fabric of his whole lie
No, he would not be so mean This
summer. at least, should &c on as before. =
tum he ssbould know better what he could
do, and whether he could bear to leave that
ola fathef and uiothef-fve Of waose trea.'
sares the churchyard held and whose all he
was--quta alone. He began then to think
that this very fact that be was their all, LAID
on him an obligation not TO be evaaed-that
no success purchased at such expenditure
would be worth having At any rate he
would wait And So sleep came &c h4m and
the moraing brought him strength and
caimness, and seemed to give him back his
old self again.
"WiT you see JAMES Mccormick to-
day p bis father asked at breakfast, with an
anxiety he strove to conceal.
John smiled cheerluly
mot day, tather not at present
Ny plan was sudden, as you said-,oo sud
den 10 be wise. have given it up, for
tine al least will cary OF the place
while longer"
The old mans face cleared, but he did
not speak only John Osgood's mother got
up silently and kissed him. No young lips
could have been more fond could any be
more dear
Two weeks after that, news came to him
Angelina Wilmarth's betrothal to her cou-
sin the city bred young mau whom he had
seen riding beside in she May tailight -
his was an unexpected blow something
which, knowing The man was her cousin, he
had aever feared. The news sank into his
heart with dull, dumb pain. She never
would have cared for him, then-never bal.
1t WAS well be has. lot gone away and left
those two who did love him to mourn AT
ter ali, perhaps, THIS existence Of plowiag
and planting was all be was good for
Fate aad placed him rightly-had gauged
his capacities better than he could have done
himself So he settled back lnto bis old
grooves with a grim resignation which was
not yet content Still he felt himself at odds
with the life which did not offer him what
he wanted
When autumn came, and it was time for
him, ii at all, to make the change planned
in the spring, be was surprised to fad the
inclination to make it gone. Some healing
ministry, to call it of nature or of grace,
God knows, had been al work in his soul
and, uncoDscously to himself, through the
long summer days and short summer nights
he had been learning The. sweetness Of duty
pure and mple-duty for its OWE sake. =
He had begun to ask himself not what be
wished but what he ought to do: and he
felt that in the very fact Of his being on
earth, God had called him to certain duties
on which he would never again turn his
back. Reconciled at last to the appoint
ment O. Heaven, he was at peace also With
bis own soul; ond a new light came into
his eyes, new vigor and manhood Into lis
life
He could think of Angelina Wilmnrth in
these days without pain. There would al
ways be in his heart for her tine tenderness
a good man feels for woman once be owed !;
bnt ,rhnthnr cha mas his or annfhnr'a he