Connecticut western news., 1875-04-02

" An, love P cried, ''and can it be, ....
 Sweet hopes may yet return to me ?"
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 PETER RAYMOND'S SON. a .. .
 Twenty years ago Peter Raymond owned 6 hard, stony farm, eighteen miles from Hartford. One September evening about nine o'clock, as be re- turned home from neighbours, he sud denly recollected that he had left his bridle hanging on bar post by his sheep barn when he turned the old white mare in the pasture that afternoon. He sprang over the wall and struck across lots, hoping to secure it before any greedy mawed bovine should make it forever useless for bride purposes. As he drew neur the barn he thought he heard there for he could not conjecture. He stepped as lightly as he could on the pn- moved rowen and slipped in behind the big door, which was standing ajar, and listened D5125aao' l"- @1"o'7s sAOsi 'ssl-
 Philip, his eldest son was there, and Clinton Dexter, 8 son of the man at whose house he had been to call. The lads were about of al age-both nearly fifteen. Philip was talking when his father went to the barn, but he finished what he was saying as MT. Raymond got into position to catch the words, and young Dexter commenced to reply. He said .-.' ........,. s...-,.'s ......s.
 "Well, Phil, my father is, just as in considerat, as your father IS. l don't think he remembers he ever was a boy
 There is scarcely a day in the year that he does not ride out-he rides more'n he used to before he was first selectman ]; and you may be sure that he always has something on hand to be done, just as your father does. Soon as the frost is cut of the ground, in the spring, he tells me before he rides off that may pick up stones or spread manure till it is time to milk and fodder; after that comes blowing and planting; a little later in, the season he tells me to hoe corn or pota- toes. or weed the garden, till it is time to get up the COWS; and, if he is at home when I take the, pails to go out and milk, he always tells be to be sure and strip the cows clean, just as though he thought I should be lazy and dis honest enough to leave the milk in their bags if he did not tell SO; and he would be just as likely to tell me that before dozen visitors asany-makes fellow feel mighty comfortable, you know. In the winter I have to chop, wood most of the time that I am not at school; and don't think my father ever feels quite satisfied If Idon't chop as much, and hoe as much, and blow as much as 8 full grown man could do in the same tiIpeae I didn't know. till the other day how itwas with you, Phil. l don't wonder that your pa tience isworn out; and I assure you that am quite as tired of living ill this way as you are" a2.'..''5
 "I hesitated good while, Clint" Phil replied, 'tbefore decided to speak to you about it; but made up my mind in having time that it was the last sum mer that l should stay at home and help hay it and fare as I did then. Father is always ready to fad fault--he generally says when he gets home :as I don't think you've hurt yourself working, to-day, Philip. And sometimes he asks me if my back doesn't ache, I've chopped 30 much or hood so much; and, no matter if work as hard as I can from sunrise till sundown, never heard anything
 more encouraging-nev got one word of praise, I feel sorry to clear out, on my mothers account. love her, and I believe that she loves mo; but if father loves me he never shows it-never speaks a tender loving word to me- My mind is fully made up, Clint. I am going to run away; and I want to get off tonight. Never mind about your clothes-I've got shirts and handkerchiefs and stockings enough put up, and I'll divide with you till we can earn more Last week I thought it over, and thought it would grieve mother so I pretty much decided to give it up; but I got so provoked the day that father went to Hartford I de- termined would go anyway. You see, here I've lived ever sin ce i was born, within eighteen miles of Hartford, but never was there, nor In any other city. Fl asked father if ITmight go with him, last June, when he was going, and he said that couldn't go very well then, but I should go with him the first time that he went after having. Well, when he spoke of going last week, I asked him if he was gofng to take me along, and he answered, pretty erabbedly: 'No, sir; pretty time for you to think of going when the hired man is goner 2 I told him that I would get you to come and do the chores, and that you would be as faithful in doing them as I would be; but he wouldn't hear a word about it. I didn't feel very light hearted after he was gone, but tried to brave it out the best that could; and worked hard all day. That afternoon was dark, cloudy afternoon, and I got up the COWS and milked them little earlier than I sup posed that did; but don't think the sun was five minutes high when got the chores done. I took the newspaper and sat down in the door, so as to be on hand to take care of the horse when father came, and I hadn't read 8 quarter of a column when he drove up. We'll. as true as live and breathe. after his promising me that I should go to Hart ford with him the first time that he went after having, and then breaking his word, leaving me to feel disappointed and to work hard all day, the first thing he said to me when he drove up was "'What are you sitting there a-read- ing for2 Why aren't you doing your choresg It galled, tell you, but I re- piled as calmly as I could that the chores were all done; and he said: Oh, oh, that is it, is it 1? You do the chores
 he middle of the afternoon, when I am gone, and then sit down and read, do you ? It was so confounded cutting, if he had stuck knife into me he wouldn't have hurt me any worse. I vowed then that I would see Hartford on my birth day, and I shall be much mistaken if am not there tomorrow morning; and if my father sees me again for one year, he'll see more'n think he will I will be herea at the barn at just midnight. My bundle of clothes is hcre now e in
 tho oat bin. Don't fail to be on time,
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