Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1877-11-10

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abruptly
johnson, l wish, if it wouldn't
trouble your wife too much, you would
once and while give me baked beans. I"
"No trouble" L answered. "for we
always have them every week. Are you
fond of them ?"
"No," said he, mournfully, / can't
eat them. johnson, but mean to learn
how to-" And then the whole story of
his breakfast at Deacon Tibbs' came
out
"Please don't think me so foolish, I"
said our minister, "as to imagine that |
must eat Just what my people dictate,
and like all their favorite dishes. / don't
feel that way at all, but these baked
beans seem an indispensable dish in
Merton households, and Mrs Tibbs is
not the only one who would attribute to
daintiness what is really due to taste"
And how about the race with Miss
Melinda ?" L asked laughing.
Mr.. Fairweather shook his head.
"I'll learn to eat the beans first, John
son, and then who knows what may be
able to do"
Even to driving the colt ?"
"Don't speak of the colt, johnson.
1t makes me feel insulted some way to
see that beautiful animal common farm
drudge. And, yet," he added, thought
fully, 81 don't know but good. honest
work is more honorable than the kind of
employment put my horse to-"
Good, honest work might do, but
Deacon Tibbs doesn't know how to treat
a horse like that"
"That's just the mystery of it, John
son, how ever horse which had been
trained by him has come out as good in
disposition as that"
"That is easily accounted for, as the
deacon had but little to do with his early
education. But he is rapidly spelling
him. Some morning he will wake up
to lock the stable door after his steed is
stolen"
Our new minister, soon discovered
by the way he handled his own fleet lit
tie saddle horse, was by no means I'M
skillful in horsemanship.
The more intimately l became ac-
/ quainted with him, the more qualities I
discovered in him which others did not
seem to dream of.
At the end of the first year of Mr..
Fairweather's pastorate, his people had
very gradually undergone great
! change. There was little of their un-
used strength put into use many socie-
ties were started which were destined to
prove of great good and yet so quietly
had all the work been done, that each
| particular enterprise was attributed to
some particular person, and the minister
obtained very little credit for it.
To Mr.. Fairweather's satisfaction, he
had learned SO far to partake of Meri-
tons favorite dish, that very Sunday
morning he ate his plateful of beans.
| To celebrate the anniversary Of his
coming to Merton, Deacon Tibbs called
over i'll the afternoon, with Paul har-
messed into the carryall. Mrs. Tibbs
and Melinda were on the back seat. The
deacon held the reins, with broad smile
on his genial face, and pointed to the
| seat beside him with warm invitation
| to the minister to occupyit it during ride
into the country.
1t was the first time he had ridden
after Paul since he came up that Satur-
day night from the station. Deacon
Tibbs usually drove the old horse Pansy,
and always seemed little reluctant to
have the minister see too many of the
colts fine qualities. They had not
driven far before Fairweather saw there
had been great change in Paul; there
was the same easiness of gate, but min
gled with it a slight reluctance, an oc-
casional quick start and toss of the head,
which seemed to come from nervousness.
He felt that in some way his spirit had
been stamped down, though by no means
unsubdued, and he had been fretted and
his will 30 constantly crossed, SO teased,
that his amiable disposition seemed
entirely gone.
1" can't imagine" said the deacon,
"what on earth's the matter with Paul |:
he has hardly paid the time I've spent
on him, for he's getting kind o'cross and
restive, and's as set rs set can be-"
He had scarcely finished the words
| before Paul reared and came to dead
stop. The deacon chirruped. The
horse laid his ears back close to his head
planted his feet firmly, and seemed to
stiffen into stone. Deacon Tibbs seized
the whip and laid it squarely and fairly
on his back. For second he trembled,
J
broke into fearful run.
For the first time the deacon realized
Pauls wonderful strength. The power
which had SO long lain untried came into
full play. The ground was passed over
with rapidity Incredible, even for a
runaway. Deacon Tbb's face grew
white the pulling and jerking into
which he put his whole strength had
not the slightest effect ON the horse.
His mouth seemed of the same material
as the bit.
There was one hope-a high railway
Just before them, and surely the horse
would draw up and become manageable
then
But with lightness and ease scarcely
credible, he carried them up the hill.
1t seemed certain death there. For at
the foot OF the hill the bridge was up
for repairs, and the not over-stout rope
stretched across the road would surely
break like thread before his fury.
Mr.. Fairweather, as they neared the
top sbf the hill, took the reins from the
Deacon's fingers, and spoke as quietly
as possible to the exerted horse. But
, his voice and his quiet, steady pull
seemed to have no effect on Paul. He
, dashed down the hill at rapid rate.
/ No, not quite He was certainly slack.
, eniug a little. Again, Mr.. Fairweathei
: spoke in tones of authority, but calmly
he pulled harderson the reins.
. Paul drew mp before he quite reach,
l ed the rope he came to dead stop.
l Fairweather sprang from the carriage
Q and went to his head. He was almost
startled at the calmness he met in the
!. horses eye, but there was a look of de
] liberate anger. which gradually wore