Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1876-12-06
Little Abey.

ma uHlp cmiD's ssrHi 1910 REsI-A nornrHs sfor'-
As we sat in the cherry glow, talking of
the cabin, its counterfeit presentment,
and the young artist who painted it, Aunt
Thusy, after pause in the conversation,
said suddenly Pa, jever think little Abey
might ben a painter "
Uncle Seth did not reply and !, thinking
that he had fallen asleep in the genial
warmth, said softly Who was little Abey,
Aunt Thusy 2"
" lie was our fust baby, deary; an he died
when he was short o four year ole. But
can see him Jest as plain as print this mint,
with his WALLER hair cGrlin' up tight, like
dandylion stems when ye split 'em an wet
EN-, an his eyes bluer nor any blum bag
could make 'em, an his mouth like little
cinnymun rose. ! never see baby like
him. | said so from the fust. when pa
put him in my arms, so little an pink as ne
was, an saws a laughin' though the water
stood in his eyes Take yer little cub,
Thusv.'
&" lie warn't very strong never he didn't
look sickly nor pindlin' but he warn't
rugged, he was quiet like an ditfunt from
other chiun. He'd set most all day IN his
little chair a watchin' me do my work, an
evry time | turned roun' TO see if he was
all right he'd smile up to me; an coulden'
tell We how all over that smile O his'n made
me feel kinder good, an yit as if it hurt
somewheres, an I'd stop my work whatever
| was adoin' an hug him up to Inc a minnit.
An he'd say such wise things, so old fash
ioned like Pa used to tell him stories--he
beats all at stories, pa does, more partic'lar
stories outer Scripters-an' one time he tells
him bout Cain an Abil. Now the baby
was named Abil, hissef, an so he lissened
Just as sharp, an when pa cum to where
Cain hit his brother an killed him dead as
a door nail, his little mouth puckered, an
the tears they came a rolliu' down his face,
an he saws Poor Tain Why it's Abil
that's dead SAYS pa, an Cain he was the
bad un that killed him But it didn't
make no dffunce the little creeter KEEP a
sayin' Poor Tain Abey gone ter hebben,
hab good time. Poor Tain We couldn'
make up our Minis what that boyd be when
he grew up Sometimes we'd make it out
he'd be a bookmaker, cause he was so set
on books. He'd take the Pilgrims Pro-
gress' an turn it over an over, Jest as If he
could make it all out an he'd pick out
Robson Crusoe' outer the hull pile O
books, Jest by the blue kiver. An, again, ,
we'd conceit he'd be picter painter, for
he'd spent hours DRAWN with piece O
chalk An he'd make seech cute little
housen, outer blocks an snools, an then his
pa would have it he was goin' to be a
builder; and when he'd sail ships aroun' in
the washtub, then there was nothin' fort
but he mus be a sailor, capn. or sech.
But Abey he didn't grow rugged. He
looked scrawny an bleached like, an
wouldn't run aroun' an play, nor do any
thin but set still. An he was alters a say.
in. I'm tired ma We might hole him
in our laps, or lay him on his trundle-bed,
or set him in his stuffed chair, it didn't
make no diffunce, he KEEP on sayin'; Il
tired ma; ; I'm tired pa.
I'D n gin everythin | had in this livin
world if | could foun' airy way to rest that
baby. Sometimes I'd fix him so nice in my
arms. with his curly head layin' right on
my sholer, and my face down on his'n, an
| I'd sav: 20, Abey, We ain't tired nowy Ye
air cumfutable now a layin' in mas arms?
/ An he'd smile up ter me an put up his han
/ an stroke my face, but he'd saw Lcklt
tired, ma liekle tired
Seemed 5 if his pa couhleu' bear it
/ he was that unreconciled. God almighty
might fin sum way o restin' sech LITTLE
mite of a cosset as Abey,' says he. 'Y'
mus keep askin' Him, pa says / an
many's the time I've heerd him git up il
the night an whop down on his knees an
say. a cryin' an cryin': 20, God, httl'
Abey hain't got no rest yit do ies' stop hi
ben' tired, somehow
4" But he got tireder an treder, an KEEP I
dwinlu' an pindlin', an at las there cum
dav when he gin up an' was Jest clear bea
out. He got outer his trundle bed, an h
tried to walk, but he went sozzlin' one sid
an tother, an most tumbled down, an
ketched him up aI laid him on the bed, an
called his pa. An there we set an set an
looked at him, an heered him say over an
agin I'm so tired, pa tired, ma, till ou
hearts was most a Dustin. The doctor h
cum an gin him suthin, an shook his hea
an went away. an there We sat lookin' a
him. an soppin' the sweat of his forrid, al
fannin' him, an tryin' to smile back agai
when he looked up so sweet an finely h
opined his two eyes wide an he looked rigi
up at the plastern' an the tired kinder slip
off his face. an there cum shiny light a
over it, an he says right out as clear al
sweet as a bobbylink, says he Amt tireC
+ ma aint tired, pa an then he laid his Ii
tie white cheek down on his mite of hal
an he shot his long eye-winkers down ov,
I his blue eyes, an he never stirred again.
/. "An' Seth he whopped down on his kne'
an he screeched out 8 No, no, God, NJ
that way didn't mean for ye to re
him that way An got right down
i, him, an says, a sobbin' an cryin', says
q Yes, ye did pa We didn't know it, but
!. meant it all the time. Twas the on'y wa,
. saws l. an God knew twas An lit
I Abey warn't tired no more, an was glad
' that But now he's had good long re'
: an want to see him bad !"