Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1880-07-14

cheek In her quick blrd-liks way, mad
a good'looking fellow Of him,
30 he came to teel unkempt and au
cared for, lie had the eomiorles
feeling, 30 sad TO a young heart, q
being alone Ia tho world, His father
aunt-an aged and not very genla
woman--a German girl Of few words
and those only for tho German butch
or who called unnecessarily often
made up with bis silent and preocoa
pied father the household that hat
once been 80 sunny and jolly, Al
meals there was little TO DO heard bu
the sound OF spoons and forks, the
nervous coughs Of the aunt and th,
rattle Of the fathers constant newsla.
per. Even the nice little dishes
good things which II seemed only
"mamma" knew how to make-were
no longer on tho table, but gloomy
and monotonous preparations which
tho aunt evidently thought good
enough and which the father appeared
to cat without tasting. John was al
ways glad to 10 excused and 10 20
-he hardly cared where. All the
rooms seemed so bereft, and even the
garden, with its neat walks and sun
stepped roses, 30 desolated.
His father really took survey Of
John, one day and saw faint circles
ander his eyes and look in his eyes
that he had never before observed.
"Is it possible" he thought, shat he
feels IL so much !" The next morning
a iong.coveted box Of tools was set
down in tho hall for Master John.
Johns first thought was--"Now |
can make all those trellaces and things
for mamma! |" The sudden sharp
pang that followed almost made his
eyes overflow, and his "Thank You
TO his father was very quietly spoken.
Vacation had arrived and to the
"sorow that grows was added the
depression Of having nothing in par
ticular TO do. John went to bed on
the night that his dream came to him
feeling more than ever alone, and trll
of bitterness because an ill-bred, brain
less girl, at gathering of young pco.
pie in a neighbor's house, had, in at
tempting to be witty, said something
to him about having no mother to
look after his personal appearance.
With all his sensitiveness and shyness,
John had plenty of grit and temper.
No boy would have dared to say such
words to him, but as girls have the
privilege Of saying insulting things
whenever they are mean enough to
say them he could only answer the
speech with silence while he felt q hot
blush rise to his face. Not long after.
ward be said goodnight to his young
host and went home.
As he entered the hall he saw his
father beyond the open sitting room
door busy writing. He did not even
look up to ask why his boy had re-
turned so early, but merely called out.
"Home again, John?" in tone as if
no reply was expected or wanted, and
John went on up stairs.
The pale, melancholy moonlight
pouring through his bedroom window,
and some ono playing and singing in
the distance a song his mother used
to sing, added the one drop of sadness
to his full heart that was needed for
an overflow. He had not known the
bitterest of the sorrow-it was only
beginning. The ache in his heart
was too big to express itself in tears.
Quietly he undressed and laid lopg
time awake in bis bed, watching the
moonlight on the wall and listening to
the fitful, far away music. Then with
long, sigh of "Oh, mamma. how
can l live without you?" he turned
biz face away from the moonlight
and tried to sleep. He wakened sud-
denly toward that time Of the night
when sleepy birds give drowsy little
chirps from their perches in the trees
and the early summer dawn seems to
to be moving and sighing in its sleep.
He heard the hall clock strike three.
He wondered why the moon seemed
to be shining in the same place. All
at o1ce he saw that it was not the
moon that so softly lighted the room,
but silvery, wavering garments; and
his mothers face was smiling upon
him.
She laid her two soft hands on ei.
thcr side Of his face. just rs she had
always done when she had something
special TO say to him, and like clear,