Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1875-04-07

I -" hii'A ~ Ni' AdNtlNt ne cNuld not refrain
from associating him with others who went
thcre Tor no good purpose aud il there was
anything which the Reems children had
cause to hate, IL was the dram.shop.
\ man who will drink will do ANYTHING
bad Mrs. r. used 10 say, bitterly, as she
warned Eddie not 10 20 near the tavern, and
TOOK up her little lame daughter into her lap.
When, therefore, Mr.. Blake intimated the
possibility that Simon might be again re-
ceived into school, both the boys looked
greatly surprised.
" don't think my mother will wish me
TO have anything TO do with drunkard."
said Edward, warmly.
And am sure that ii has forfeited nv
respect added James.
=" lie is always selfish aud unfair" pursued
the younger " he always takes advantage.
but he is so cunning that he can turn every
thing off with Joke. He keeps company
with Blum, too | expected nothing better
than that he would sometime take TO drink
ing"
II was hard for James to hear such words
spoken Of one with whom he had spent so
many pleasant hours, and in spite Of the dis
appointment which had entered his very
soul the night before, he could not help de-
Tending his own Judgment.
don't think he il 80 much selfish as
thoughtless," he replied, and a. for Blum,
he Is kind Of cousin, you know, aud the
only relative besides his sister, that he has
in the world"
" But do you think we ought TO associate
with him any more, Mr.. Blake asked
Edward
Not on the old basis, Yon have all been
blinded, more or less, by the fact that Simon
is the most daring and skilful and success
iul boy Of the village in all your games and
boyish enterprises You have admired him
so much that you have lost sight OF his moral
influence. At the same time some Of YOU
for instance, Harry Aines and you, Edward
who have suffered from his selfish tricks
now and then, have regarded him as worse
/ than he is lou must remember his dsad-
yantagesi that he has been an orphan since
babyhood, has never had anything worth
calling home, and that he has a very social
/ temperament without much opportunity to
/ crafty it in safe way"
lie can tell good story" nterposcd
James.
Aud he must go to the tavern to find
! listeners, said Mr.. Blake. His guardian is
an old miser who takes no interest in any
| thing but the profits on his board and clothes,
aud who would not allow him 10 attend
school in the winter if it was not required
/ by law and you know how seldom he is in
vited to any Of your houses"
Although this last fact was perfectly well
known 10 James. it now occurred 10 him in
an altogether new light. He had known |
Simon almost intimately at school, but had |
always held aloof from sharing with him any
! of the hospitalities which boys extend to |
each other, He had never asked him to 90 |
home with him, and had always declined to |
a1,.
50 checrless, both in and about the Squire's |
house, and as Miss X, the housekeeper |
was only grain less disagreeable than the |
Squire, how could he lie had always |
thought of Simon as a sort Of outdoor friend /
whom he could like heartily in the street and |
at play, but who was not one to admit to the |
home circle For domestic enjoyment James |
shut himself up to quite another set"
When Simon has had time to come to /
himself and see how close TO the brink Of /
ruin he is" continued Mr.. B., ." shall try to |
get him started upon a new track and want |
you to help me. lie is by no means vicious |
boy, although he has been wickedly led into 1
bad company, and to take part in a cruel |
drunken scene. lie is not more selfish than |
the Average Of boys, but he is reckless, and |
he feels neglect keenly. If he makes a frank |
acknowledgment Of his disgrace and promises |
amendment we all ought to try to help him |
to recover his self-respect"
Thus did the hours pass pleasantly and
profitably in the laboratory Mr.. Blake be-
ing, as always entertaining, and knowing
how to teach without preaching, and to make
boys think without making them stand in
dread of him as a task-master.
CHAPTER VII
suLKs AND ooSFIDESoEs
We wish we had time to tell of all that
happened in Ellen's playhouse that same
saturday afternoon and especially of the !
great doings" in the kitchen, TO which |
after their doll play was finished, the little |
girls fastened, on a summons from Stephen |
as fast as Fanny's lameness would permit.
o. can carry YOU" said that young gal |
lant with a quick motion, as il he would |
take her in his arms.
Don't be rude, Stevey," objected Ellen
eve can come along well enough together, |
can't we, Fan p
OF the eagemess with which each of the
children tried to pull" piece of the plas-
tic molasses put into their hands by Maria,
after q tying ON of aprons and many an ex-
hortation to do this, and not 10 do that, and
of the various experiences which ensued, it |
would be useless to attempt description
at least for the benefit of any one who has
had the misfortune to grow up without at
tending "candy party" Those who have
passed through this phase of youthful sue
cess and disappointment need only be told |
that Stephen burned his fingers to begin |
with, and ended off by putting so much |
water on his hands that the material became
much too soft, and was not at all presentable
as candy and that Ellen's piece got cold and
stiff and "would not stretch" causing Ste
nh d. "a. - tpl sba
Fannie's, being manipulated in part by the
attentive hostess, was really very credit
able production. The lad was quite willing /
to praise the visitors success until compari- /
son with his own was made, whereupOn |
discussion began as to the responsibility OF |
so ignohle am end TO his boast that "he could |
beat the girls at candy-making any time
Eyebrows were raised and gestures were in |
dulged in to n considerable extent. in aid of |
the many words expended on that unfortu- |
nate piece OF candy, which was fast losing |
its claim to be called such, even by courtesy
since it began to run" on the table, where, |
contrary to Maria's special injunction, the !
desparing boy had placed it.
See there" said Ellen, sit will be nothing
but molasses in minute"
Stephen could not bear ridicule, fond AS
he was of ridiculing others, and II Ellen had
peNu u boNf lnattdu VI u GIN He Noulu HaNt
struck her with his closed fist As it was
after so slight hesitaney no one not closely
watching him would have noticed it, he
slapped her not violently, and yet with such
force and in so angry a manner as TO make
her cry and 10 bring the exclamation, For
shame" from Fannie, who, until this mo-
ment, had seemed to sympathize with him in
his misfortune. Ellen's crying brought
Maria from the pantry into which she had
stepped for minute, and her dispeasure
lost no time in expressing itself Stephen,
however, did not need her sharp reproof to
remind him OF how naughty an act he had
committed for in Fannies face he had al
ready read such indignation and disappoint-
ment as he had never seen written there
before. i
lie did not wait, therefore, for Maria's
censure, but ran out Of the room, slamming
the door violently as an outlet for his cha
grin and vexation, and did not stop running
until he had reached a certain corner of the
hay-mow, which was his refuge from SO
much of every domestic tempest rs he did
not carry in his own heart. Hidden ia this
retreat he was at liberty to follow out bitter
! thnu0hts IN THAR coneltsion without any ad.