Vermont farmer. [volume] (Newport, Orleans County, Vt.) 1870-1877, 1875-04-09
Peter Raymond's Son.
A story for All Fathers.

Twenty years ago. Peter Raymond owned
n hard. stony farm, eighteen miles from
Hartford. One September evening, about
nine o'clock, no suddenly recollected
that he had left his bride hanging
on bar-post by his sheep barn, when no
turned his 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 near the barn he thought he
heard voices inside. What any one should
be there for he could not conjecture. He
stepped as lightly as he could on the I'M
moved rowen, and slipped in behind the
big door, which was standing njar, and lis
tened
Philip, his eldest son, was there, and Gin
ton Dexter, son of the man at whose
house he had been to call. The lads were
about of an age-both nearly fifteen. Philip
was talking when his father went up to the
barn, but he finished what he was saying
just as Mr.. Raymond got into position to
catch the words, and young Dexter COM
menced to reply. He said
"Well, Phil, my father is just as incon-
siderate rs your father is. l don't think
that he remembers he ever was boy.
There is scarcely day in the year that he
does not ride out-he rides MORN 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 rs the frost is out of the ground, in the
spring. he tells lme 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; little later in the
season he tells me to hoe corn or potatoes,
or weed the garden till it is time to get up
the cows, and, if he IS at home when take
the pals to 60 out to milk, he always tells
me to be sure and strip the cows clean, just
as though he thought / should be lazy and
dishonest enough to leave half the milk in
their bags if he did not tell me so; and he
would be just as likelyto tell me that before a
dozen visitors as any way-makes fellow fell
mighty comfortable, you know. In the win
ter have to chop wood most Of the time
that am not in school; and don't think
my father ever feels quite satisfied if | don't
chop as much, and hoe as much, and pillow
as much as q full grown man could do in
the same time. 1 didn't know till the other
day how it was with you, Phil. dom
wonder that your patience is worn out; and
assure you that | am quito as tired of living
in this way as you are"
II hesitated n good while, Clint" Phi
replied, before l decided to speak to yol
about it; but made up my mind in hayinI
time that 1t was the last summer that
should stay at home and help hay and far,
as / did then. Father is always ready t,
find fault-he generally says when he get
home, l don't think you have hurt yoursel
working to-day, Philip And sometimes h
asks me il my back doesn't ache, I've chop
ped SO much or hoed so much; and no mat
ter If work as hard as | can from sunris
till shutdown, never heard anything NOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS got one word of praise
feel sorry to clear out on my mothers nc
count. l love her, and believe that sh
loves me- bnt If father loves me he neve
shows it-never speaks tender, lovin
word to me. My mind is fully made "
Clint. am going TO run away; and war
TO get off tonight Never mind, about you
clothes-Ive got shirts and handkerchief
and stockings enough put up, and I'll d
vide with you until we can earn NOR
Last week thought it would grieve mothe
80 pretty much decided TO give it up; but
got so provoked the day that father went
Hartford determined would 60 anywa,
You see, here I've lived ever since wa
born, within eighteen miles of Hartford, bI
never was there, nor in any other city.
asked father If l might 60 with him, Ia
June. when he was going, and he said
couldn't go very well then, but should
with him the first time he went after haydn