Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1878-08-02

THE QUEER TINE HE HAD IN BURLINGTON.
Cry OF THE GIN Mills, N. Y,
July %, 1873.

THE QUEER TINE HE HAD IN BURLINGTON.
Cry OF THE GIN Mills, N. Y.,}
July %, 1873.
DEAR FREE Pass The old graduate has
been to your city. Let me tell you.
He had not been to Commencement. lie
had hardly been to visit Alma Mater since
he was graduated seventeen years ago.
" Oh the wretch =" does some madam say ?
We'll perhaps so.
One day, last week, he stepped Oft from
the steamer coming from the South. upon
the dock Of the Queen City.
There can be no doubt, friends. that some
of you saw him at church, on Sunday but
yon might see him hundred times. possibly,
and fail to recognize in the gray headed,
" elderly looking" man, the young fellow
that you knew in his college days. You
may like to know what he thought as he
saw you. will write it down and you can
read it, or not. as you please.
Madam hear your sarcastic, "Oh, indeed
sir, thank you :" plainly enough, but shall
tell my story all the same. And you can
prepare yourself Tor little sentiment. For
when an old chap sees his young days again
he generally exhibits more or less nonsense.
You agree with me in that.
As the graduate sat in church that day, he
saw the same girls singing in the choir that
sang there seventeen years ago; he saw the
same deacons coming round with the bags on
the end of the pokers. These singers and
deacons were not a day older, nor had they
changed in any way that he could discover.
1t is proper here 20 remember that gra-
duate, when he leaves Alma Mater. steps
forth into the world with certain views OF
what he is to do for, her; just as boy re-
members his IN Jthcr When he fails to sue
coed in his pet plans for glory. he may try
not to care what she thinks. and may hard
en- his heart. But he really does caro-.
Do you think not? How do you account
for it, then, that if he wins any little sue
cess, he is 50 anxious to have his college
friends know Of it?
And as in his fight with the world the
nonsense is taken out of him, and he learns
to aim at usefulness, it is still the same.
Alma Matters aprOn-string is tied to him all
through life and he finds it SO, however
strongly he may deny it and even think it is
not true.
This explanation will help you to under
stand how the graduate felt that day in
church lie had thought until be faced the
facts, in the presence of the mother who bad
cherished his genius. that he had done
little that was good and creditable. But as
he looked at the familiar faces about him,
and as they brought back with the strange
power of association all the promise of his
youth, the actual performance of his life
dwindled In his sight to nothingness. Where
were the bright laurels and the donors he
had hoped to win?
To you. dear friends, this may be slightly
comical. The quiet stranger, who is grad
uate of long ago, Is, doubt not, familiar
sight in your churches. Let me assure you
that as he sits with his boots nicely blacked
and his hair prematurely white-washed.
there is often little tempest in his soul. lie
is painfully conscious of his disadvantages.
You retain in your quiet homes and cool
mountain air freshness that borders
upon miraculous state Of preserva
n. n
not fatter. Must remind you and Madame
that | knew your ages Serenteen years ago!
Let us have peace But the boys who go
forth to battle become SCARED or scared vet
Grams. 1t is much the same thing in their
estimate of themselves. So the graduate of
whom am writing felt how poor and little
his life had been His vanished youth with
its "long, long thoughts and its visions
came back to taunt him with cruel memo
ries. He did not hear much Of the sermon.
He was listening to an inner voice that told
him of the littleness of his life, of his lowly
career, of the few really useful things he had
done. They had never seemed so poor and
insignificant before. All those days Of con-
slant toll, those pitiful attempts to rise to
higher position, those conscientious efforts
to be useful, how little they seemed to him
now
A man who has made an honest fight in
the world, is humbled and broken little
when he gets this view of things. To at
tend the funeral of his own youth and vain
hopes in this way may be good for him. but
it is hard. The graduate found it
hard There was for him one consola-
ton. Conscience with its kindly voice told
him he had done about what he could. This
was poor comfort for his pride, but it was
good for his soul. As he sat looking at the
kindly faces of those who had been friends Of
his youth. he felt that they too would be
kind. that they might forgive, as conscience
did, mis- poor performance, and that Alma
Mater would pa. him on the head with
smile if he made himself known.
am sorry to express the fear that this
graduate was rather a weak man, and had
an inadequate control of his feelings. To
my certain knowledge the said feelings are
accustomed to bully him at times. lie
makes a great show Of not minding them,
and seems very independent Of them in pub
lie /; but happen to know that privately they
do treat his authority in a very contemp-
tuous manner. On this occasion in church
they began to tyrannize over him. 1t was
in vain that be fought and struggled and
threatened. His buster was all of no use.
lie knew that the proper thing for him to do
would be to stop at the close of the service
and claim the acquaintance of those he re-
cognized. lie knew how kindly they would
take it, how they would forgive lis little
ness, and how they would convince him that
be had not changed so very much after ALL
As the services closed the proper course was
plain before him. But at tina. moment the
feelings Aforesaid took him by the throat in
a way that meant business, and in a per-
emptory manner marched him out of the
church and walked him off to the hotel.
Ladies and gentlemen, you are amused at
seeing this arrest. Let me hope that you
will not dcspise the weakness which it mani
tests. You New England people are rather
cold and grand sometimes. We like that in
you but the little folks of warmer ATTITUDES
cannot be ~ you are, any more than our
green hills can be your towering mountains.
We do not wish to be as you are either, in
that matter. For queer as you may think it,
out of the heart are the issues OF life, some
times, and we think that will do.
1t must be conceded that the graduate
going to his hotel under arrest is not very
serious subject of contemplation. But con-
slider, pray you, how real it all is to him,
and try to sympathize with his little world |
of feeling. lie has had a long, hard voyage |
since he left you. 1t has been a seventeen
years cruise, if you will so regard it. lie |
was the captain and owner and crew of a lit
tie craft that set sail very gaily from your
port, so many years ago. You cheered him
as he started, and very likely the young la
dies of the choir threw flowers at him.
(They generally do such things at Com
mencement, believe.) And now here is
the navigator back again. But where is the
magnificent cargo he was to have brought with |
him? lie has few odds and ends-the po- |
sition of an obscure doctor or teacher |
or bookkeeper or preacher or something
you may guess what-and little property. |
lie feels what a sorry show it is. As he |
rummages his memory for these trinkets and |
thinks how he can hold them up in the best |
light without living if no is unfortunately |