Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1874-07-17
BRATTLEBORO, VT. FRIDAY, JULY H. 1874

quite as hearty as l might be. It's awful
trying to hear poor girl cough all night
and not bo able to relieve her. | hope |
won't DO discharged, sir, Mr.. Culpepper,
you have beon kind of rough to Inc at times,
but / haven't sort of minded you. Poor
sis, wnon she was wel-she's not quite q
yet-for a joke used to call me Mr.. Cul-
peppers forger aud murderer. She knows
you, sir. Poor Maryi / am sometimes
very down in the mouth about her fearing
she will never get we'll again. All ready
with that order, sir7
or course the business of the house had
TO 10 attended to. Two hundred and six
bales of South American hides TO be ship
ped to Boston could not he neglected, and
Clarence went on his errand.
II was dusk before our boy came hack,
and missed him. Not a soul in the office
knew his address. Next morning, Clar-
ence did not come to the office, nor the
next day. All that night and the next
night, had to hunt that miserable boy up,
and precious needle-in- -the-bay stack
business was ii. Mother and ] found him
at last by the bedside of a poor girl who
was fast going 10 her last rest. We helped
to bury her. Confound the office | was
absent from 1t for the only day in twenty
years which was not holiday.
Clarence never came back 10 the store
again. Mother overruled me. Mother is
not exactly hard woman, but she said
that, since had been brought up like a
dog in the office. "a term by no means com
| plmenlary either to me or to the iirm,)
| Clarence should he free from the same
canine experiences.
Mothers second cousin Is from Salem.
| He has the reputation of being hard man,
too. In fact, we all come from a peculiar
hard-grained and knOtty stock. We may
be lasting and not inclined to warp or
spring, but If you try to hack al us with an
ak or hatchet, why, bless you the edge
| of your tool gets turned In r moment. Well
mothers cousin sails brig from Boston as
captain. That brig is in the wine trade.
Our foreign mail is just in and here is a
letter from Clarence, who is nothing more
than a sailor on board of the brig maybe
he will remain one all his life, for there
really amt much in the boy that can see
save that he has a soft heart, which dom
count for anything, you know, iu this
world. lie calls me Uncle Culpepper, which
is rather ofa liberty, and mother, grand
mother, which is a peculiar kind of rela
tionship, but the boy has some very curl
Gus and absurd traits OF character. HI
writes, inclosing draft on Boston for S25
ito put modest tombstone over Mary
grave" Was there ever such an idiot of
boyi Just as if mother had not had it al
done, with an iron railing round it, fully
six months ago. This is the way that stu
pid Clarence's letter ends: at is ever 81
jolly sailing over the summer sea, ant
dear old Uncle Culpepper, just look at tn
picture over my o!d desk in the Office
Funchal is on the lee-bow, and the pictur
is as true as true can be. Once, when yo
were not watching me / cleaned off the OLE
thing, and, when l used to be eating m.
crust of bread, watching that picture gave
flavor OF grapes to the dry mouthfuls.
poor Mary were only alive, etc., etc."
T might take, perhaps, fancy to Clarence
it was not for this girlish sentimentali:y {
, his. What is the use OF it, should like I
, know, in an ofiice or on board of ship?
, am so thankful that never had an atom
it in my composition.-NeD York ,Sundd
| TIi,nes