Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1873-12-24
Write Home Write Home


Write home; write home. The Christ
mas time for tender memories, and melt
ngs of the soul. The New Years prime
for freshened purposes. Seasons blending
well. and blending now for US. Write
home
In many household, two articles are
apt to be laid on the shelf-the family bi-
bic and the inkstand. IF the former be
sprinkled with corner dust, the latter cur
dies its sediment in its fluid moldiness
holding the stub Of a pen in soak to use
lessness, so that should one use it, it would
make thick, black. muddy down-stroke
and nothing else. Others of us there
are who keep the inkstand open all the
time; and it is dip, dip, scratch and scram-
ble-produce much waste paper in the world
good writing, which, in after years,
shall make poor kindllngs. So much that
we write is altogether so mechanical, super
fetal, formal.
But write home. Write the expected
letters. Better little oftener, and lit
tie earlier, than in mere surrender to the
demands of expectation. Nevertheless,
sometimes the expected letter acquires new
charms in its few hours of tardiness, like
small sum of interest paid with the prin-
cipa. Let it not run too long, however
Let it never be too late There are let
ters arriving for the hands that are folded
on the breast-the letters lie upon the
mantel, while the coffin lies upon the tres
ties; aud it is an awkward thing for cold
er hands to open them. Write home
" Has nothing come in the mail for US,
Bridget? ?" No, nothing tonight, mum. "
- Sarah Jane, did no letter GOMEZ" ihop-
ing that Sarah Jane may have gone to the
post office and secured tue same, without
Bridget's knowIedge.) mo, mother, moth
ing for US tonight" " Poor John [ sup
pose he can hardly get time. l hope moth
ing has happened to John" The dear old
mother, disciplined through life, makes no
complaints. The rheumatic hands only
stir the fire little more impatiently. The
rheumatic limbs only cover little closer
over it. A shadow on the gray hair, and
slight absence OF mind in household care.
know John is dreadful busy; God pre-
serve him" But stop" | forgot to tell
wees, mum, there cum letther for yees
Mesther Jones the neebor, fetched it till
yees, as he cum airly, l was afeard the
childer would be afther playin' wild it, and
| put it behint the picter in the parlor );
and what wild the scrampagin' round and
round, it went clane out my mind. Shall
| be afther gettn' it for yees ?' "O1!
Bridget" is all the answer. The tone
says all Write the expected letters.
Write theunexpected letters. 1t is nice
to be reminded of people, and to know that
people remember you, upon whose memory
you have no claim.
There is the group in the rustic New
England store, standing round the stove.
1t is dreary day : and some hearts are
very drcary They have outgrown their
owD pit, and out-Iasted their own hopes.
Others are Needless and hard, because
parched. The consequential postmaster
sometimes talkative, sometimes surly, all
ways dignfed-puts on his steel specta-
cles with a relish. He fumbles among the
documents. He scans the bundles of ex-
changes-lots of ,ceahly newspapers.
." Jenks," he says, it seems to me that
there's letter come for you. Your name
is jenkins jerks, amt it ?" looking at the
seedy Individual searchingly-not through
the spetacles, but over them, that he may
not claim any jerks but the right one
" Yes" he says obviously. believe
that is my name but there must be some
mistake. There must be some mistake.
There aint no letter comm to me. Amt
nobody writes to me. What would any
BODY write to me for he adds, half
scared, half sad-"I don't owe nobody
anything" Wal, don't see any letter, y
says the sapient postmaster. "If there is
one, it had ought to be on the shelf where
it belongs. Seemed to me did see one.
Sure enough, here it is, on the floor. For
you, jerks" g For me- asks jerks scep-
tically. And now the tables are turned
Great severity in the postmaster's tone and
glance. Your name is jenkins jerks,
amt it?" sharply. "Well, then, you jest
take that letter, if you are agoin' to-
jerks takes it, twirls it between thumb
and finger, looks at it on each corner, slow
ly opens it, and his wrinkled features rus
tie out of their rigidity. "Why, it's from
George Robbins way down to Californy.'
Why, what on airth he has been writ.
ing to me. Why, to the interested group
of listeners, "you remember Robbins
Him and me was boys together. He's q
rich man noao-they all git rich down tt
Californy. Who'd have thonght of his
remembering me-? And here he is writ
ing all about the old elm tree; and the
pond where we caught the swapping turtles
and that time we shared our dinner bask
cts in the lane. Precious hungry $50
we was! Tasted good guess it did
Why, Robbins is jest the same !; not a
mite spilled. Strange, that he shoult
think Of writing to me-" And jenkins
jerks smiles. but there are tears in hi
eyes. jenkins jerks walks out of tina
store, happier, healthier, larger hearted
and louger-lived, for that letter. Writ
the unlocked for letters. Write home
write home.
|, Write letters of the Past-no laboret
!, intelligence. They get that in the news
paper. Your death they will get there
as also your marriage, and the like. Writ
/ words of remembrance, that shall call VI
the early days. Put in the Photographs
they are the real " tracts to distribute.
They show what time has done, to vast
t and wear They show what survives tn
waste and wear Of time. The best sermon
! these that you can preach. Make presents
sends souvenirs-if only pebble iron
, your garden.walk only leaf from you