Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-06-13
BACKBONE AND GRIT.

widow lives here, and she's got boy,
and he'll drive you over. He's nice
little fellow, and Deacon Ball lets him
have his team for trihe, and we like to
get him job when We can"
1t was hot day in July. Away up
among the hills that make the lower
slope of the Monadnock Mountain a
friend lay very ill. In order to reach
his temporary home one must take an
early train TO the nearest station, and
trust to the numbering old coach that
made daily trip to K. The train
was late the stage, after waiting some
time, was gone. The landlord of the
little white hotel appeared in his shirt
sleeves, and leaning his elbow on the bal
cony rail, dropped down on the hot and
thirsty traveller what comfort could be
extracted from the opening sentence OF
my sketch.
"Would we not come in and have some
dinnerg' Eyes" "Would he send for
the deacon's team?' eyes" "And the
boyp eyes"
And the dinner was eaten and the
team came round-an open buggy and
an old white horse, and Just as we were
seated the door of little brown house
across the way opened and out rushed the
widows boy"
In his mouth was the last morscl Of his
dinner; he had evidently learned how II
"eat and run" His feet were clad in
last winters much worn boots, whose
wrnkled legs refused to stay within tho
limits of his narrow and faded trousers.
As his legs flew forward his arms flew
backward in an Intellectual struggle TO get
himself inside of jacket much too short
in the sleeves
"There he is" s,id the hostler, chats
the Widow Reebe's boy. told him I'd
hold the horse while he went home to get
a bite"
The horse did not look ms he needed IL
be held, but the hostler got his dime, and
the boy approached in time to relieve my
mind as to whether he would conquer
the jacket or the jacket would conquer
him and turn him wrong side out
lie was sun-burncd and freckled,
large and red haired-a homcly,
plain, wretched little Yankee boy; and
yet, as we rode through the deep summer
bloom and fragrance of the shaded road,
winding up the long hills in the glow of
the afternoon sun, learned such les.
son from the little fellow as shall not
soon forget.
lie did not look much like preacher
as he sat STOPPING forward little,
whisking the flies from the deacon's
horse, but his sermon was one which
wish might have been heard by all the
boys in the land. As it was had to spur
him on now and then by questions TO get
him to tell about himself.
"My father died, you see, and left my
mother the little brown house opposite
the tavern. You saw it, didn't you
| sir the one with the lilac bushes under
the window? Father was sick long
| time, and when he could not work he
had to raise money on the house. Deacon
Ball let him have it, little Mt time
and when father was gone mother found
the money owed was almost three hun
dred dollars. At first she thought she
would have give up the house, but the
Deacon said, Let it wait awhile and he
turned and patted me on the head, and
when Johnny gets big enough to earn
something | shall expect him to pay it.
was only nine then, but Pm thirteen
now; | remember it, and | remember
mother cried, and said, Yes, Deacon
Johnny is my only hope now; and won.
dered and wondered what work | could
do. really felt as / ought to begin al
once, but couldn't think of anything
to do"
"Wcll, what did you do?" / asked
quickly, for was afraid he would stop,
and | wanted to hear the rest.
"Well, at first did very funny things
| for boy. Mother used to knit socks tc
sell, and she sewed the rags to make rag
carpets and ] helped"
"How? What could you do?"
"Well, the people who would like 9
carpet could not always get the time tC
make it. SO | went to the houses among
the farmers and took home their rags, ole
coats, and everything they had, and out
in the woodshed | ripped and cut then
up. Then mother sewed them, and
sometimes l sewed some, too, and then
rolled them into balls and took then
back to the owners, all ready to be wover
into rugs"
"But did they pay for your work?'
ooh, yes, we got 80 much q pound
and felt quite like a young merchant
when weighed them out with our ole
steelyards But that was only ono way
we've two or three old apple trees out il
the back yard by the wall, and we drieC
the apples and sold them. Then some O
the farmers who had good many apple
began TO send them to us to dry, and W,
paid them 50 many pounds oil dry, ant
had the rest to SELL
"But you surely could not do much il
ways like theseY'
"No, not much, but something; ant
we had the Knitting"
odd you knit?"
"Not at first, but after awhile mothe
began TO have the rheumatism in he
hands, and tho joints became swollen ano
the fingers twisted, and it hurt her q
move them. Then learned to knit
before that | wound the yarn for her.
had 10 learn TO sew little, too, 70
mother didn't like TO see the holes with
out patches"
And he looked half smlingly at tn,
specimens on his knees.
"But you did not mend those % said
Yes, sir but was in hurry, an,
mother said il was not done rs it ought I,
be. They had just been washed, and
couldn't wait for them TO dry"
"Who washed them ~
-" did, and ironed them, too. l cal
wash and iron almost as well as mothe
can, She don't mean to let me, but HOY
is she going to help il E? She can hardl,
use her hands at all, and some days sh
cannot leave her chair, so | had to lear
to make the beds and to scrub the foo
and wash the dishes, and can cook al
most as well as girl"
is il possibleY / shall have to tax
supper with you on my way back to tn
city and test your skill"
Johnny blushed, and I added:
It's pity, my boy, that you haven
sister,"
81 had one" he said, gently, "but sh
died and-if she had lived, | shouldn'
have wished her TO lift, and bring woo'
and water and scrub rs poor mothe
always did. Sometimes / wish ] coul,
have sprung all the way from baby t
man. It's such slow work growing up