The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1882-06-02

q
as much in self-oommunion ~ in snsSer Il
/ the other Then. in his usual harsh man
ner. he added. Perhaps you nov zee
Young man, the folly OF the life You led
over there, and be nodded his head 10
wards the camp.
| Don't moralize, descon--not 10 me, a
least. II is too late for that now, the othei
sullenly replied,
Too latel 1t is never too late said the
deacon with energy.
It's sll very well for you to talk that
way. deacon, said the other despondently
but then. you don't know how hard It Is
for one to get up after he's down.
No? said the deacon. in curiously In
terrogatory tone.
No. the other replied. growing warmer as
he spo Ike; and, then. you don't know what
tenn pit ations such as myself have either
and you have never had 10 go through
whatI have-thrown out TO shift for NY
self, for my mother died when was q
child, and my father
Your fathers said the deacon, inquiring'
ly, as the other stopped abruptly.
Do not speak Of him he said vehement
ly as be arose and walked to and fro It's
little enough l have to thank him for.
Like father, like sonl that's wha' have to
remember him by, for I've heard moth,
ING else about him since can remember.
He was bad enough. ! suppose. never saw
him, and don't know; maybe, after all
he wasn't as bad al WAS told, he added.
in softer tone.
The deacon followed his nervous move.
ments with Gu rio 6 axe, not . little sur
prised at his vehemence.
I'm not Que to judge you too severely.
young man, said he, rs the other reseated
himself. What's your name?
Amos Sethwell, the other replied, and
raising his eyes, saw the deacon's fixed
upon him attentively. Aud it may have
been mere fancy on his part, but as the
fitful campfire harsd up brightly for =
moment, he thought a curious spasm con-
tracted the right line of the deacons
mouth. 1t was only for an instant. for the
deacon quickly averted his eyes and turn
cd them upon the peaks above cleaning
softly in the light OF the rising moon.
A long silence ensued. The young man
gazed despondently in the fire, the deacon
absently at the cleaning peaks--so absent
ly that it was plain he saw them not. Far
beyond their snowy domes his thoughts
had wandered back to his native town,
and party OF wild young men. And
though it had been long ago. it seemed
but yesterday as he saw them disperse,
and followed the footsteps Of one return
ing home-followed him as he entered the
empty house, and saw him take up little
note lying open on the table which told
him that his wife driven hu desprir by his
ways, bad left his home forever,
and that henceior their ways lay separate,
for never did she wish his unborn child
brought under his evil influence.
Perhaps it needed some shock. sharp
and sudden like this, to check the down
ward course OF his life and rouse his better
instincts He was not one, however, TO
steer middle course-he must be one
thing or the other and, as he shook the
dust of his native village from his foot
the shackles Of his ill-spent life, and be
came cold, silent man, shut up in his
shell OF stern selfreliance. And so
he had remained through many q
weary year Of wandering to and fro, until
he was now lonely and morose old man.
Perhaps the sight OF this younger man,
already started on the downward path
where he had been before; perhaps some
thing more than all these, stirred the well
OF loving Kindness hidden 80 deep in the
descon's rugged breast that no sight OF it
ever reached his impsssable face. For,
when he at length spoke, it was in tonc
very different from his usual harsh one.
Amos, go into the tent and lie down on
my blankets. l will join you presently.
Deacon said the other, slowly, as he
arose. / didn't expect any such kindness
from you. OF ull men. II thank you
and breaking off, he hurried into the tent
Long after the camp lire had burned to
ashes, the deacon sat beside it with his
eyes fixed on nothing. The gray bmTo
once or twice nibbled softly HI his sleeve,
but, eliciting no attention, grazed slowly
of. Then upon his rcverie broke he thur
rie d breathing of the sleeper in the tent.
Qlancing in, he saw him lying on the bare
ground with one arm under his head and
his face half covered by one slim hand
Moved by . sudden impulse, the deacon
arose, raised the sleeping head and placed
his pillow under it, and covered him with
touch SO gentle that he never stirred in
his deep repose.
1t was late when the tired sleeper felt
hand upon his boulder the next morning
and, starting up, saw the deacon bent ovel
him.
| see you have rested well. Come. now
and have some breakfast. he said. in I
kindly voice.
Their meal being concluded, the descor
again addressed him. speaking slowly q
if in pursuance OF some preconceived pur
pose.
Amos, mine is and has been lionel,
life for many syear II is q hard life, also
but such as il is will ask you TO share i
with me.
Do you really mean 10 give shos. dea
con? asked the other. with brighteninl