American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1881-08-13
WHY THEY DID NOT RUN AWAY.

WHY THEY DID NOT RUN AWAY.
Matt had made UP his mind to run
away.
1t was the third afternoon that he had
been kept in after school that week,
and there was to be a match-game of
baseball between his club, the Excel
siors, and the Plumtown club, and he
did want to have his side beat. Who
would take his place as first base, he
wondered; and the center-fielder also
would be away.
There sat the miserable center-felder
at the other end of the bench, his book
before him, and fearful frown upon
his brow.
Matt returned to his definitions, and
wrote fiercely:
Baker-One who bakes.
Artist-One who arts.
SpinSter-One who SPINS.
"Don't care" muttered Matt. 81
won't look word out. Fingers just
stiff, writing so long; and sides, it's So
mean to keep Teller in and make him
lose a match game"
1hnmp! came something upon the
book. A piece of paper wound up
tightly, evidently thrown by the center
fielder. Matt unrolled it promptly, and
read:
DEAR MATT: I think it's awful meant and
besides, this morning 1 had to get up and kill
potatO-bugs. Let's run away. Bob.
Oblivious of stiff fingers, Matt grasped
his pen, and wrote with characteristic
brevity:
DEAR BOB: As soon as we get out. Yours.
MATT.
times up" said the master, with a
look at his watch, in his compassion
making the delinquents apresent of five
minutes.
Bob and Matt found a delegation of
boys in the yard, waiting for them.
1.-The Plumtown fellers have just got
here" said Marcus Clark. Hurry up,
ing"
The first base and the center-ielder
look at each other.
LETS have the game first" signaled
play-loving Matt; and Bob nodded a
prompt assent.
Now Matt was the only son of his
mother, and she a widow. The neigh
bors said the good woman had but a
single fault, and that was a foolish in
diligence of her son Matt; and yet they
never suspected how far she went in
pampering that boy-how she ran up
stairs and downstairs at his beck and
call, and brushed his"tlothes and
BACKED his boots; how she got up
and gave him the most comfortable
chair when he came into the
room; how she allowed him to rule
over the nlan-servant and the maid
servant, and even the stranger within
her gates. 1t was a wonder that Matt
was not a disagreeable despot, in
stead of a jolly, play-loving, good
tempered urchin, with but now and
then occasional moods of imperiousness
and self-will.
1t was only upon one point that Matt
could not have his own way. That her
boy should go regularly to school, his
mother insisted with untlinching firm
ness. MATHS tears in this case had no
effect. Even shutting himself in his
room and refusing his meals was in
vain. although it worked well in
other cases. Every morning saw
Matt. with good lessons or bad,
on his way to school. He felt himself
abused, and fully justified in running
away from such systematic cruelty.
His forehead ached with study, and his
fingers were lame with holding the pen.
As for Bob, his life was made up of
unpleasantnesses: of chopping wood, of
wedding, and hoeing, and study. All
was a somber, dark monotony of duties;
and no baseball to speak of crept into
the desolation of his days. His back
ached with work, and his legs were ready
to drop-at least, that was Bob's story;
and he was determined to live no longer
on the farm. Once in the city. he could
enter some big mercantile house, like
the smart boys he was SO fond of read
ing about, and soon become junior
partner and marry-no, he wouldn't
marry the old fellows daughter! he
hated girls, anyhow, and he would leave
that part out.
When the boys reached the base ball
ground, they found the Excelsiors in a
fair way to defeat. They had hat. but
one inning, and already the Plumtown
boys scored six to their nothing.
Matt slipped into the game with the
determination to win the victory or
perish in the fray. Oh, how that boy
worked! You would never have sus-
pected that his head was aching and his
fingers lame. To watch his stout young
legs scud from base to base, who would
have supposed that they had been too
weary to bear him to farmer Browns
that morning for the milk?
1t was the last inning, and the score
of both clubs was the same. Matt stood,
bat in hand, watching for the ball. His
eyes were bright with determination,
and he was sure he would not miss it.
Already it was hurled through the air;
and seeing it come towards him he
swung his bat-and then a faintness
came over him, and the crowd around
the fence seemed multiplied to thou
sands. The ball had struck him right
above the bright blue eyes, leaving a
huge white swelling in its place. Poor,
fond mother! 1t was mercy that she
was not among the crowd that saw the
boyish figure drop to the ground.
Both clubs flew at once to his side.
"Bob, help me raise him." said Mar
Gus, leaning over Matt PROSTATE form.
"How could l have let that ball slip!
It's so hard it may have killed him, for
all known
Some of the spectators had now made
their way to the frightened group.
"It's the widow Dunn's lad" said
one. "He has tainted, boys-fetch
some water! l wonder these baseball
players have whole head among
'cmp'
A hatful of water brought poor Matt
back to consciousness It takes great
deal of base ball to kill boy, and many
a broken finger win the widow Dunn
yet bind up for her son. But Matt felt
very limp and lame just then.
Bob" he whispered. as he sat up
and looked at his friend, Il guess we
can't run away to-day. l want to go
home. What was it about. Bobby
I've clean forgotten why we were go.
ing"
why, it was because we have to
work so hard" replied that injured