Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1880-03-03
The Minister'S Old Coat.

Ministers sons are very apt to turn out
badly" said l to the gentleman who sat
next to me in the car. We had met in the
train bound for Chicago, aud had struck up
an acquaintance.
He stopped me with his hand on my arm
and with an earnest look which | shall
never forget.
paused at once in what was saying, and
it seemed for moment almost as if the
rushing train had stopped to listen too.
Let me tell you story" he said. al
know it is a common belief that ministers
sons are wild, but that is because people
talk about the bad ones, while those who
turn out well are taken as matter of course.
| gathered statistics about them once, and
found that out of thousand sons of minis
ters, there were very few who did not grow
up useful and industrious men,"
But what is your story?" asked, set
tling my back in my seat.
"Well," said he, I" it begins with a class
supper in Boston dozen years ago. A
number of old college friends had gathered
in the evening for their annual reunion.
Among them was the rich merchant, j. f.
Williston-perhaps you have heard of him
and poor pastor of country church in
Elmbank village, out in western Massachu-
sets, whose name was Blake. good many
of the class had died, and the dozen or so
elderly men who were left felt more tender
than ever towards each other, as they thought
of the bright old days at Harvard, and how
soon no one would be left on earth who
shared in that happy time.
"The dishes came and went, the lights
| glowed brilliantly, and at last the friends
grew quite gay. But the tender feeling
and then, and in one of these musing mo-
ments Williston's eye was attracted by some
thing glistening about the coat which his
friend Blake, who sat next to him, had on.
"He looked closer, and saw that the black
cloth of which the coat was made had been
worn SO thin and smooth that it was very
shiny.
"Well, Blake said he, suddenly, taking
hold of his friends arm cordially (Which he
somehow hadn't thought of doing before)
how has the world gone with you lately 2
"Blake had naturally sad and thought.
full face; but he looked around quickly,
with warm smile.
"No need to ask he said, laughingly
You can read the whole story on my back
This old coat is a sort of balance-sheet
which shows my financial condition to T.
"Then he spoke more seriously, adding
1t is pretty hard life, Williston, that Of a
country parson. | don't complain of my
lot, though sometimes I'm distressed for my
family. The fact is, this coat I've got on is
hardly fit for man of my profession to ap
pear in but I'm going to send my boy Sam
to Harvard this year, and must pinch here
and there to do it. l really ought to be
thankful, though, that l can get such ad
vantages for him by few little sacrifices OF
of personal appearance and convenience
old fellow, returned 1n 'Wnfsstohhc: t. 'rYo6Saty
who knows you will ever imagine that the
heart inside of it is threadbare, however the
garment may look.
"Blake was pleased with this kindly ex
preston; and both men, after that exchange
of confidence, felt happier. But among the
various incidents of the evening" this one
almost passed out of the minister's mind by
the next day, when he started for Elmbank
"Speedy as his return was, however, some
thing meant for him had got to his destina
ton before him. 1t was a letter. Taking
itup, he broke open the envelope, and found
inside few words from Williston, with g
check for $500 to defray the first years col
lege expenses of his old classmates SON."
"You are stranger to me, sir" said my
traveling-companion at this point, "but
think you will appreciate the feeling with
which poor Mr.. Blake stood in his bare an6
dingy study in the old farm parsonage, hold
ing that letter in his hand, aud lifting hi,
eyes in thankfulness to God"
"Yes," | replied. "Williston did jus
the right thing, too. And how was it Die
the son show that he deserved the help 7"
My acquaintance looked away from me al
the rich country through which We wert
passing Then he said:
"Sam Blake was a agood-natured, obedien
fellow enough, and was greatly pleased t.
have the expense of his first college yea
sense of duty didn't 60 very far. The Rev
Mr.. Blake bought new coat, and Sam en-
tered Harvard that fall and there natter
stopped for while
"A freshman has great deal to learn, a
you know but think the chief thing San
learned, that term, was the difference ther
is between Harvard and little village lik
Elmbank, and the great difficulty of working
and PLAYING at the same time.
HeI siety meetings to attend
and roo Nh, with chum, where
good deaA Dln6king was done by himsel
and his friends. And then there was base
ball, iuto which it appeared indispensable
for the honor of the class that he should on
ter actively, on account Of his strong legs
wonderful wind and ground batting.
He could not refuse 10 go TO the theate
occasionally, with his richer companions
Sam took natural interest in the societ,
of young ladies, too, and had to give VI
some time to its cultivation. He ais
thought moderate amount of practice il
the gymnasium was desirable, to proven
his health breaking down under the confne
ment of study. So, on the whole, the actus
work that he did in the college course wa
not very extensive.
"This didn't seem to have any bad effec
till well along in the winter, when the habi
of Sinking work had grown 80 strong, with
out his noticing it, that he fell easily int
reading novels when he ought to have beel
in the recitation-room, Gymnasium, thea
ter, billiards, smokiug-and am afraid
must say little drinking-frittered ava
his time
"One horribly snowy, sleety morning
when he had got up too late for prayers
the postman brought him note from tn
faculty-an 'admonition.'
"He dropped the pipe he was just light
ing, aud bolted off to recitation. But h
beaded Immediately, and that dscour
aged him.
"He soon began to make light Of tn
warning, and did himself no credit in hi
studies. Though he managed to squeez
through the examination at the end of tn
freshman year, he came out far down to
wards the foot of his class.
; He wasn't quite contented with him
self, and thought he'd try to do better tn
next year. But during the journey home
he recovered his usual spirits.
"When he walked up the village toward
the parsonage farm, he was thinking that
since he was sophomore now-he woulC
buy the knottiest and biggestheaded cane il
Cambridge when he should go back there
Aud what do you suppose was the first sigh
that met him at homer
at was his father out in the field, diggin,
for new potatoes, his coat off, and his spec
tacled face perspiring
"The sight struck shame into the boy
He vaulted the fence, and running up will
hardly pause for greeting, cried;
go father, let me do that don't like K
A. L.