The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1882-03-09

grandson 10 be pu. 10 inst such place =
little Jim is 10, II you wers dcsds
IL. Phoebe. Sans mother IA iorc- haad
eI sonsa herself. aud vouldt have :,
bind him out evsn II vss gone
Amt Phate uttered little dlsoourAgeS
sort Of sroan st the poor results oi heu
reasoning. and Philip Hayes sidsd
Well, no, don't knows should. 'esus.
hes my own flesh and blood.
Little Jim Was some one.' aesh ani
blood too. replied Aunt Phseba vipin,
her ey1.
Why, Ph9be. my wiie's just - chicken
hearted As you Be. and do you s'poss shsd 4
stan by and see little Jim sbusedy Why
I've knoved her to got out O. her warm
bed Of bitter night and 20 into his room
10 make sure he WAS covered up warm. and
tucked inl
Blessed are the merciiul, for they shall
obtain mercy. whispered Aunt Psbe.
One day. she continued, he pssped In al
my window. and ! asked him vhAt ht
wanted. He said. thought may b. you'd
ses me and have time TO smile on me-.
did smile on hs.n--dear child--sn told
him Mrs Hayes would smile on him any
time; and what do you think he said'
La I don. know. I'm sure. Boys will
say snythins. was the reply.
I Well. he said. Mrs. Hsves il awful good
10 me an she talks TO ma and smiles on
me whenever she can possibly got time;
but she's awful drove from daylight
10 dark. I'm afraid I'm going too far
with my plain talk, Philip. You look Is
il you were getting angry.
No, haint neither, cried the farmer,
Strengthening himself up in his chair. and
trying too look very brave; but I'd like to
know what I've done to you Phubs'
Nothing. ! an speaking for them that
are in bonds. Shall 20 on9
Yes; out with ii. good psishbor; / guess
l can stand II.
Gan your We'll, I have q word for one
who is neither in sn asylum, nor yet
bound out, nor
Here Aunt Phoebe put on her glasses
and looked sssrchinsly in her neighbor's
eye, gand said. There are Q great many
bound whom the world looks on as free.
| m coming still nearer home now. Philip.
Who on earth are you going to accuse
me OF bindln' Of, nov for massy's sake?
Your own. dear, good, lovely wife, re-
piled Aunt Phoebe, slowly and solemnly.
| knew she was out, and so ] came to see
You alone.
Phnbel you don't ssrtaip accuse me Of
not lovin' and providin' for her? cried
Philip Hayes, in . wounded tone.
I know that she, as we'll : little Jim,
has oil she can eat three times day; but
'or all that you are very hard With her as
we'll rs with him. You are ss strong
nan as ever lived; and 80 you have no feel,
ng for the weak. Your wife has not half
ny vigOr, but she does double the work
ny husband would allow me TO do in hsr
rest time. You ~ont have her always,
Philip. Now turn over a new leaf this
iour, and lot her rest Remember her ~
you. with her delicate frame, were forced
o do her work.
What more can l do for her? How can
help her working in harvest timer The
'ay makers, have got TO eat, cried Hayes.
n the tone Of . martyr,
You can hire help, and not let her do
he work for eight harvssters, besides her
larry work and all else that falls upon the
mother Of family. You can buy books,
nd take papers, and 50 crafty her taste,
nd-well, Philip, you can let her
ave some money to give away, or TO do
ist what she pleases with. so that she
eed not say, when called on for dollar,
T even quarter, I'll ask my husband.
1hen she came in here, ten years ago, TO
lie mothers place to your motherless
oys. she was gift from the Lord to you;
nd il you don't appreciate her, why. you
ont deserve her! But l must 40 now
I'D Aunt Phobe, rolling up her knitting
ork, which sue always took when she
ent out TO make call
Wait = minute. good neighbor, cried
ayes in tender voice DO you think |
'uld get Mirauds Fisk to help my wife
rough harvest?
Yes, and through the whole year, If you
ant TO.
I'll send little Jim up TO have her come
,wn. afore my wife gets bsck from town, ,
here she went with the butter. because /
nldn't spare anybody else.
DO 10; and resolve not TO put that child
work before seven O'Clock. and let him
op very early TO play, said Aunt Phabe.
Well, I'll do that; but. Phobe, don't
mt you to look on me Is hard man, !
udin' Of heavy burdens on TO folks, that !
,uldn't touch with one o my fingers.
Well, then. peighbor you must change I
ur course u once; for the day is far
ent and the night is 1t hand with US
th. I must hurry home nov, for the
nds will soen be in from the field for their
pper. ! always pour out their tes for q
EN- myself 70 make them feel as il they
d mother. Poor fellows--they are ell '
angerS in q strange land, you know. 8
There we're tears in the old mans eyes
he watched his kind nsightor going up
. road to the next farmhouse, and he
d. l do hope the blessed woman will
member me among the rest, for believe 0