Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1874-07-17


suppose, for the last fifty years, a colored |
print Of a brig, with all sails set, skimmng |
over the seas, bound for Fumchal, in tue |
Madeiras, that port being visible in the |
distance. You can't see the picture very
distinctly now, owing TO n storm Of dust,
dirt, and cobwebs which havo obscured ii
as long as ! can remember. l sometimes
wondered whether Clarence ever was in
Imagination on tue deck of that brig, as l
have been hundred times wlfen | was a
boy. careering over tho bright seas, and
whether the whole thing ever became to
him, as it was TO ne, kind OF pictorial
flying Dutchman. When / wanted Car-
ence had hardly ever TO rap on the glass
for him. The boy seemed 10 anticipate
my wishes, aud would jump up when
even moved my finger. This alacrity on
his part was a sign of servility which de-
spised. l should have liked to have seen
myself when 1 was in that boys place try
ing to be quick and obliging. or course l
did my duty thoroughly when / was our
boy. III was treated then with contempt
perhaps il WAS best for me, and as ] al
ways have had plenty Of spirit, returned
exactly what received. | do not think |
have altered much us To temper since the
time / was our boy-nOr as a clerk do ] see
the necessity for any change. Seventy five
dollars a month, and ! am So, with an old
mother to keep-aner twenty years ser
wee in the house-is not sum calculated
to engender much kindly feeling, though |
suppose II is about as much as l am worth.
had noticed that Clarence, generally u
silent boy, had disposition toward expan-
siveness with me which was disgusting. !
think it was May day, some two years
since, when looking through the window
on Gold street, our boy happened to see
some lad or other, with basel ball bat un-
der his arm, walking gayly along. think
the remark Clarence made was, "Wouldn't
he like 10 be that boy7 1t looked so jolly,
and did Mr.. Culpepper Uhat Is my name)
ever play "base ball :" l, OF course, utter
ly squelched the boy at once and for all
time, rs he fully deserved. Sill Clarence
would not remain put down. ! remember
once when it was raining he offered to go
and bring me my luncheon, remarking,
"As II was raining hard, and had no um-
DTcllht huu bttutu W udNt n Ddu
cold, he would just go and fetch it," Now,
l am and was the last person in the world
to appreciate this kind OF thing. Every
body in the world, in the street, and in the
office-and in the ofice is an epitome of the
worlds for himsel- and such presump-
ton on the part OF Our boy, who ate cheese,
every day, for his break fast aud dinner,
was as much out Of place as If /, with my
| thread bare coat on, had dared TO offer my
arm to the dashing wilo of our Junior part
ner, when she CON es into the office. l did
not mean to be exactly rough With the boy,
nor 10 eat his head off, but ask any one,
what right had an errand-boy 10 have feel
ings7 Bless you boys should not be sem
sitive. When l think of the lots of snub-
bing / received, and how bravely | got
over it all There Is our junior, the son o.
the old gentleman, the founder OF the house
The old man when he was alive knew his
place and knew mine. He would nod &c
me when he came in, and once a month
about would exchange word with me.
do not believe the junior even knows my
name, and as to recognizing me, fancy i
would be As great a condescension on bii
part as II he was to take off his hat to
street-sweeper. But it is not about mysel
am writing, but about Clarence. Tbii
lunch episode ended by my opening my
window with a sudden jar and dropping
the money on Clarence's table without 4;
word. The moan-sprted fellow absolute
ly smiled, and went out with alacrity. If
had been in his place fifteen years ago,
would have let the money stay there for
ever, or thrown il at the fourth clerk
head. But boys have not now the plucl
that distinguished them in our time. Pres
emily he came back and handed me IN,
luncheon. / never thanked him. / put
on the cover Of the ledger, and let it sta
there. 1 had no appetite for it. L sa
furtively watching Clarence. Presently b
opened his old drawer and took out hi
miserable dinner. This time it was a mi
. mute crust and no cheese. Why hadn't tn
boy cheeseH opened my glass windo'
and dropped my sandwich and pie befor
him.
"Where's your cheese, boyf" l asked
"Ain't got any, SIR"
"WhyH"
No answer. What was II my business
, did not want any of his confidence.
"Eat that sandwich, you little wretcl
and the pie, and don't bother me !" and
q snapped to my window in a rage and wei
to adding up my columns of figures; bl
+ somehow they wouldn't add. l must neeC
4 watch Clarence. He was munching h
7 bread, with his back turned to me, and N
I luncheon was on the table, untouche
Some boys are exasperating. Clarence WI
O especially 80. I raped at my windo'
@ The boy was by my side. "You will {
= over 10 Martins stores in Brooklyn al
= take this order and 20 quickly. Dor
n dawdle. You are wanted here back in {
v hour to go over to the Cunard steam
wharf. What makes you shake 50, you Ii
q tie wretchf Why don't you eat yol
I luncheon 7"
d because amt hungry. Fancy l air
a well. Afraid 1 could not be back in
r hour legs kind OF weak, sir" Claren
n replied.
m "Spend your money at the Bowery
y Tony Pastors, l suppose, and sit up la
Ia so that you are good for nothing in the da
+ time. We will have to get another boy
4. "May-be you will," was Carenct
9. mean-spirited reply.
y. "Where Is that girl that used to call a.
of bring you luncheon :" asked.
Q. "My sisterf Working in tobacco f.
a. tory has ruined her health. 1 am afrs
In she has some complaint of the lungs. Be
II i'll for two weeks; and arm such pc
a nurse"
II "Where is your cheese you used 10
of with that conGounded luncheon of you
a which you seemed SO fond Off"
~ "Have not had anything but bread fol
~ week, You see there are but two of