Litchfield enquirer., 1877-07-05
STARLIGHT AKo LAMPLIcHT.

EE3Za / sl STARLIGHT AEo LAHAPLlcHT. ..Stand up, Philip, my lad. and show she gentleman your book. He's a right clever lad. Sir James, is my Philip, and I'll not say but what I'm proud of him" Sir James put on his spectacles. and took the book from the child's hands, to examine it more closely. Presently he put it down, really surprised, and turned to Dame Leigh, who was standing quietly near, with her hand on Philips head. .'It is wonderfully good. Mrs Leigh" he said, sand his father no scholar either. Why, the lad will be genius.
 Mrs. Leigh blushed and smiled and courtesied, smoothing the hook out be- tween her uork-worn hands, and Sir James took his spectacles of carefully again, and put them in his pocket; but lit tie Philip, shaking himself free from his mothers hand, did strange thing; he threw himself down across the table, and tore the copy book across and across, sob- biig out, ssI Won't~ ho a. GaninsiI won't write copies any more all my life. because I don't want to be a genius. Sir James was staftled; he was unused to children, and such foolish tempers annoyed him. He said good-by to Mrs. Leigh, and went ont into the harvest fields, leaving the torn copy book and Philip and his mother to fight the battle ont among them.
 There was not much fight, however. Mrs. Leigh was widow, and Philip was her only son; so, though she scolded him for his temper, and especially for showing it before old Sir James, she forgave him after a while, Philip sat down sadder and a wiser boy to supper. But for all that he kept his word. The lessons which had been his delight he went about in 8 slovenly, ungracious manner, that vexed his mothers heart; and from being bright and quick with his tasks, he took to being so slow and plodding that, as the months passed on, the fact that he had once been the head of the class grew to be mere faded memory to the other scholars: for inst as his mother, pleased with Sir James's words, had made up her mind that her son should be scholar and a genius, so Philip, in his ignorant heart, had determined to the contrary-and SO, with careless hand, he laid the first light foundation of the. invisible wall that lay between them for a while.
 Mrs. Leigh, or Dame Leigh, as they called her in her own village was the pret-
 
 head groom. Her short married life had beenOn dream of happiness from the moment when, standing on the village bridge, Philip had asked her to be his wife. until she awakened one autumn eve- ming to the terrible reality of a terrible sorrow, which was to leave it's impress on her whole after-life. For they brought Philip home, through the golden broom on the common, still and white and pale, with little dark mark on his left temple, that his wife covered with her hand when she knelt down and laid her soft cheek against his curly head; Philip" she said
 Philip, my dear, are you dead?"
 No, not dead; but worse than dead, as Dame Leigh used to sob sometimes, as she knelt by the window. and looked out with glistening eyes on the harvest field that was bringing in such rich returns the seeds that Philip had planted in the spring time, in his leisure hours, but that other hands would reap; for Philip, wan dering helplessly from room to room, with that black mark above his temple, was walking toward the Valley of the Shadow, through dark, still path, in which he recognized nothing of his former llfe-not even the sweet face and tender touch of his young wife. For Philip had lost his reason-'sinnocent." as they call it, in 8 simple, beautiful manner. in some parts of Ireland; and for elght months he walk ed among them at Eversham, in world of his own. and then the end came.
 How he managed to be kicked by the two. .year-old, in whose box they found him lying senseless. no one could imagine, for better or safer man with horses than Philip Leigh was not to be found on the country side, but when the end came, the explanation came with it.
 l He had been breeding over the fire all one summer afternoon, with his head in his hands, and his wife Phoebe knitting on stool before him, when suddenly he cried out, Phoebe, Phebep' and started up with both hands stretched out toward her as if for help.
 Phoebe rose hastily put her knitting aside, answering his cry with tender lov- ing words and compassionate tears.
 Do you know me, Phiilp?" she said. Philip. my dear, look at me, and re- member me once.
 So she prayed. kneeling straight before him, with little Philip clinging to her dress, and the summer sunset creeping toward them across the shining red of the kitchen floor, and Philip, lifting his dim eyes. drew her down and kissed her-the first time for eight months.
 So her prayer was answered.
 He grew quiet again then, and present. ly she persuaded him to go to bed, and sat beside him holding his hand until he fell asleep. When he awoke it was mid night, and the lamp had burned low, but Phoebe was still sitting by his side. He lay qeiet for awhile, and then he began to talk in low, hurried tone, and to move about. "Take care," Phoebe heard him say presently, in louder voice-s'nos there, Philip-not near his heels; he's a rough young horse." Then, with 8 long sigh, ''That's right, my lad, and safe. up near Understand back, Philipl Aa-my God!'
 He dashed the bedclothes aside with that wild cry, and started up; but Phoebe, with the instinct of her love, was before him. ''Stop, Philipi" she cried; ''is it the boy you mean? He's safe, thank Godi" ssThank GodFa breathed Philip, and he let her lay him down again, and put her cool hand on his forehead, smoothing back the curls that had grown 50 gray since the spring, and then they were both still. Whether she fell asleep, or whether she was. only ''dazed" by grief and pain and lweariness, Phgbe could never tell; but when they reused her in the'norning, and her eyes turned instinctively to where lay Philips restless head, she saw that he had s'entered into life" She was ten- ded very gently and very lovingly by the many who grieved for her in the village, but she told no one for long time of all that last night of Philips life-only to her it was quite clear; and, if possible, she loved little Philip more after she realized at what terrible price his life had been saved for her.
 So little Philip grew up into boyhood in the prejudiced light of his mothers eyes-grew into health and strength and beaut but no book scholar," as Mrs.. Leigh used to say to the Squire, shaking her head sorrowfully. when he was giving the boy an easy examination into his tasks; ''bnt very imp for mischief" ;" she would think. looking fondly after the strong young figure as he went running over the common. Yet he was clever with hls fingers for all that, and a ''likely" boy, the farmers said, who saw him stand Ing for while sometimes, with his hands l.