Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1878-05-23
,ear an account Of the days proceedings,
rhich lin rs,m sadlv vava him

ally. "you've been building John Dekin's
fence to keep his own bull out o. my lot
What upon the globe did ye do that fort"
"Weli, ye see, mister" said Jim, assum-
Ing comfortable sort of attitude, as who
should say, "come now. let rs reason to.
gether." I did kinder mistrust from the
look O. things twas his'n; but, thinks me,
he aln't the kind TO up to aud do right off;
he don't care much ef bis bull does eat up
your wheat. expect he's one OF them
that didn't hev q good mother. Myi ef
he'd had my mother he'd know better. ef
he had ha' been . fool. But, you see,
folks 10 fo.ksy; they amt as they ought ter
be. and you can fix them no way, reelIy. 1
calulsted that II you waited for him the
grain'd be clean lost; ef ye took the law on
him, why that would be time and money
spent. and the wheat had oughtcr be q
CROWN; 'twouldntt never grow without
fencing, for that bulls dreadful ostropo.
irus; and we had them old rails handy.
Anyway It's fixed now; and ef ye want to
jaw him, or set Square Jinks outer him.
why there's time enough while the wheat's
. growing agin to satisfy ye that way"
"You go along" growled the deacon,
falling back on his pillow; Its apretty
piece Of Of business to come to my time OF
life to learn how to handle thistles; l don't
deny but what Eye learned suthing; but I
guess you'd better go to bed now; you're
ALFRED tired
well. be, some" and stretching and
yawning. jim obeyed.
That amt nobody's fool!" calculated
tke deacon, looking after him; "or II he Is
lis plaguy sight better folly than most
folks, wisdom"
There was no lawyer sent 70 John De-
kin; the fence stood firm against wintry
storms, bu, Jim noticed that the bull was
not turned into that lot again; and when
Spring returned the grain shot mp in fall
luxuriance, thick and heavy headed; none
the worse for Its accidental pruning, per-
hsps all the better. And beside there was
certainly softeniug In John Dekins as
peci toward his neighbor; perhaps not un-
mingled with contempt for the deacons
softness;" but still grain OF leaven had
been planted In this unpromising lump;
tine-perhaps eternity only-could show
how IL worked. So Jim went his way In
aud about Sawyer; being OF no account
In the eyes of most people; OF less than
none In his own; but planted here and
there by the wsyside little seeds of kind
! ness aud humanity that blossomed to some
souls delight and benefit. ''She hath done
| what she could" was the Lords own COM
mendstion; and this was the lowly meas
ure of Jim's desert; but can any OF us do
| morel How mary OF Us do As much? How
| many Of the great and rich leave behind
/ them a grateful record 10 even as many
hearts as always remembered with tender
| affection, poor Jericho JIM
But it was reserved for him to do the
great service of his life for his good old
| friends. the Ellerys. | has not been de-
| clared to you. dear reader, any more than
1t was TO jim, that Deacon Ellery had a
son living In distant city, who for some
| years had never been seen In Sawyer, nor
| spoken OF in his fathers house. Sam El-
lery had been the very core OF his fathers
heart. to use the pathetic Irish phrase, and
| yet he never found it out; for with the
| painful shyness and reticence OF his race
and nature. Deacon Ellery hid his affection
deep 10 silence ami coidness. lie was a
rigid Calvinist, aud had striven to bring up
| Samuel IN the straghtest sect Of that sort
| DogmAs and doctrines are husky food for
| q bright, brave, joyful soul like his boys :;
| he never took to them kindly; his moth
er's love made her religion just toierAble
\ 10 him, for professediy she held her hus-
bands faith. Sam could believe in the
| goodness and tenderness OF God when he
saw and heard his mother; but his fathers
stern and unninchlng hand closed the gates
| which he was most desirous OF opening.
| He went away from home to position in
| bank In Boston, where he began as a
boy" and had now arrived at the Office
of cashier. At first be had returned once
or twice year to the old home, 70 mother,
| and also to keep up youthful sweetheart
ing with Annie Palmer. the minister's
! pretty daughter; but as he grew to be a
| man and remembered bitterly his fathers
| stern belief, he made use Of his freedom TO
1 H.. l.f.. ft..t.x Al
ally enough rebounded into Unitarianism.
That his son should become a member OF
that sect In particular was the very ga,l
| and bitterness OF iniquity to TO the old dea.
con. who could better have born = defec-
ton In almost any other direction; and In
| what he called righteous wrath he wrote
dreadful letter to Samuel. and forbade him
ever To enter his doors again, until he had
repented Of this great sin. and humbled
| himself Ia dust aud ashes for betraying his
| Master, as the deacon was pleased TO style
it. Although loving and entreating let
ter from his mother went sfter this fulmn.
alton. and somewhat calmed Sans first
contemptuous anger, and though that let
| ter was answered, and a ntful correspon.
| dence carried on between mother and son
through Annie Palmer. Sam accepted his
fathers alternative, and stayed away from
nored him; for he was indeed "a chip of
the old block"
| His name was never named In the family,
nor uttered In the daily PRAYER. and If his
fathers heart ever cried after him it cried
In silence.
Now Jericho jim adored the minister's 5
| daughter with the dumb passion OF faith.
| ful dog. IL was the great joy of his lite to
have her come to the door with the milk
pitcher for him 20 ill. as she sometimes
| did: and one pleasant word or lovely smile
made jim happy all day. After the fashion
| Of wiser folks. he paid tribute to this god.
dess continually. He brought her every
| wild flower iu its season, and the rarest OF
| all he knew where the rhodOra grew. and
| gathered Its early blooms for Annie: deli
cate orchids unveiled their shy hauuts for
him, and the slight sweet flowers Of Spring
| all lay at Annie's feet from her faithful
| wOrsbipper. Cardinal flowers and spotless
pond lilies came in their season: for her he
stored the biggest nuts. aud begged the
sweetest fruits that grew In any garden nor
ever begged In vain. for Jim wss petted
and privileged In Sawyer Anuie was
mightily joked about her fervent xdmirer,
but nobody ever laughed at jim; his pa.
thetic simplicity shielded him like young
girls innocence. But Annie knew very
well that this poor boy liked her, though
not how deeply; and knowing, too. his eur
ious power Of setting people to rights, 1t
occurred to her that he might perhaps pave
the way for her lovers reconciliation with
his father; for the careless admiration OF
the descOn's son had long ago deepened
into love. ard Sam Ellery had been many
times to Sawyer TO see Annie Palmer since
he finally LEFT his fathers door; and now
they were soon to be married. and Annie
lOnged with oil her heart to have peace be-
tween father and son.
One July evening, just At twilight. Jeri-
cho Jim arrived at the door Of Psrson Pal
mere house with the milk for Sunday,
which was always carried round Saturday
night, and also with pail Of fresh lilies
from Warren pond.
| Annie came out to take them, fresh and
cool IS their spOtless blooms herself; her
dark hair waved above . sweet, cOlOrless
! face, and her clear, sad. hazel eyes looked
at jim both gratefully and wistfully.
"Oh jim! thank you! these are so love-
". Jim. there is one thing l wish Won