The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1883-09-19
A Summer Story.

A Summer Story.
The scene was a cool, shaded veranda.
where groups of summer boarders were
lettering in comfortable neqlioe of dress
and attitude; the speaker was a Young
man. fair, fresh and rosy, in becoming
costume of pure white; the time. nine
o'clock on bright summer morning in
July.
"Going to church to-day, girls ? Most
time to get ready"
at don't know" said Alice with
yawn. "It's hot, and feel 30 lapgnid
don't think Pm we'll lately; ones first
duty. you know. is to ones health"
~ shan't CO." said Iney. cts long
dusty ride; the last time I went every
thing had on was ruined"
I'm sure shan't immediate myself by
sitting an hour and half upon hard,
wooden seat, listening to rustic eloquence
with pasal intonatiou," said Fsnchette,
"wheu I can feed upon Thoughts that
breathe. end words that burn in the
pages of Farrar or Phillips Brooks"
DWELL, Young ladies. can't say that
much incline to spend my holidays, or
any part of them, in listening to country
preaching, but you're all such church.
going set when at home, thought of
course you were going, and for politeness'
sake must go too. 1t is very hot that's
fact, and one comes to the country to
rest, any way"
Soon after the large "platform wagon 4"
was driven mp to the door, where the
farmer host, who was driving. called out !:
"Any passengers for meetin'? There's
seats for half dozen; Sunday ridin's
free"
There was no response to this appeal,
and the speaker was just about to drive
of, when beautiful, dark-bsired girl
appeared on the steps, enveloped in
duster" which effectuallv protected her
summer fnery, tripped down the lawn
and took one of the vacant seats, being
helped thereto by the young gentleman in
white, who looked more florid than ever
as he said TO himself, "What shame !
She's the cream of the lot, and l might
have had her all to myself. hut couldn't
go in this costume, and it's too late to
change"
1t does beat ALL" said the farmers
wife, as they drove along the beautiful
shaded mountain road, "what heathens
these city people be pears as if we ought
to take up collection and send 'em
missionary"
"They're not heathen," said Clara Gale,
who felt herself appealed to, I" those girls
are all members of the same church
with me-"
"You don't say Well, 1 always thought
professors went to meetin'."
Nothing more was said. Clara greatly
enjoved her ride through the summer
woods, whose rustling leaves and singing
birds seemed to know that it was Sunday,
and to pour out a choral of praise appro-
pirate to the sacred day. She enjoys also
the simple, decorous service, and felt her
heart arise in praise to her heavenly
Father as readily on the wings of hymn
sung by farmers and their daughters, as
ever they had assembled upon the swelling
organ notes, or the harmony of a quar-
tette. Nor was her devotion to the Savior.
who had died to save sinners, weakened
by hearing the old, old story" told in
words which perhaps lacked the culture
of the schools. Certain it is that the
young minister who told it drew add.
tional inspiration from the earnest and
sympathetic countenance of his fair city
auditor, and one old deacon said to
another, as they left the church:
"'Twas as good as second sermon to
see that gals face; she's one of the right
sort; we might get some more speritool
life among US eff we had few such as
her."
The next morning the thermometer was
found to have gone up ten degrees, among
the nineties, but no one seemed to remem.
hQr fhat a. rnortxr nanHa1 mt
the "platform wagon" preparatory to a
long-planned climb up the mountain.
Nor did the most delicate of the girls
hesitate to undertake the fatigue of a
three-hours' scramble over stones, BRAN.
bles, precepices and fallen trees. Ward.
robes were worsted in the struggle, gay
pennons fioated from the bushes, laces
and ribbons danced away upon the breeze
But not complaint was heard gay
voices, happy laughter, joyous shouts told
that all were having "a glorious time.'
Toward evening Clara Gale and the
rosy.faced young man stood together over
looking the prospect from the top of 8
great stone.
"Why, there's the little country church
! went to yesterday" said she, pointing
down to the valley. "Do you know, the
memory of yesterdays service has beer
with me all day and helped to make
brighter what without it was altogether
brightness. The preacher dwelt upor
the old text, The shadow of great rocl
in a weary land and every stone w
have seen or climbed over has brought i
back to me, and have walked in tina
sweet shadow all day long"
The young man looked at her will
respect, admiration, and something els'
mingled in his gaze, as he said with NOR
feeling than one would have given hin
credit for:
al wish could feel as you do abou