The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-08-02

the settlement. I felt as if I would rather
die b fail of fulfilling the expectations
and it was an inexpressible joy to know
that my relatives and the ~neighbors cared
SO much for me.
ITO comprehend this thing fully, Mrs.
Pember, you ought to be in college, and
when you are getting hard up, and see no
way but to leave, get letters, as 1 did from
uncle Jason, with five or six dollars at a
time In them. Such a trif1ewould carry you
through to the end of the term and save
your standing in the class. If you were q
Burlington college boy, while you might be
willing to depart this life in an honorable
manner, you would not be willing to lose
your mark and standing as a student.
You would regard the consequences of
such a disaster as very damaging to your
character, and certain to remain with you
forever.
81 may as well say, while it is on my
mind, that | do think this matter of educa.
ton is a little overdone in this part of the
country. A young man is not the center of
the universe merely because he is a college
student, or a graduate, and it is not worth
while to scare him with any such idea.
The only way he can meet the expectation
of his friends, under such circumstances, is
to get run over accidentally by the cars.
completes his martyrdomi, and affords
his folks an opportunity to boast of what
he would have been if he had lived"
"rell US more about Lucy" said Mrs.
Pember.
Eyes, certainly" replied T~ompkins.
"Lucy had a wonderful idea of poetry and
writing. It is really alarmingto a stranger
to see the feeling there is up here in that
way. The impression prevails generally
that a writer is superior to all other people
on earth. | remember to nave heard that
one of our class, a year after we were
graduated, started a newspaper back here
about ten miles, on the bank of the Onion
River. He might just as well ave started
it under a sage bush out on the alkali
plains. He gave itsome queer Greek name,
n I heard that the publication was first
semi-weekly, then weekly and then very
weakly indeed, until it came to d full stop
at the end of six months. 1t would have
been ridiculous anywhere else; but Being
an attempt at literature, suppose it was
looked upon here as respectable. =,
Aud did you use to write poetry?"
qderied Mrs. Pember.
"Not to N dangerous extent" replied
Tompkins. 81 do not deny that 1 tried
while in college, but l reformed when 1
went West. 1 think Uncle Jason alw avs
had an dea that it might be better fer me
to be Daniel Webster. He stood by me
after l left college, and for three years I
continuedto get those letters, with five or
six dollars at a time in them. They kept
me from actual suffering, sometimes, before
I got down off m stills, and went to work,
like an honest man, in the pork business"
81 thought you were going to tell US
something about that girl" suggested Mrs.
Pember.
ayes, Twas" rejoined Tompkins. "When
1 saw Lucy here, four years ago, In the
gallery with the singers; l felt as if it would
be impossible for me to face her and talk
with her. She would not have known me,
for one thing. When Twas a brown-haired
boy, making poetry, and being a martyr,
and doing s~erenading, andliving On Goldfish
and crackers and soup,1 could meet Lucy
with a grand air that made her shudder;
but as l satthere in church, gray and worn,
l dreaded to catch her eye, or have her see
me. Although there was not three years
difference in our ages, yet it seemed to me
that l was very Did, while she was still
blooming. Then there was the feeling that
l had not become a great poet, or orator,
or anything really worth while. On the
contrary, l was just nobody. 1t seemed
like attending my own funeral. I felt dis.
graced. Of course it was not all true. l
had been a good, square, honest, hard
working man"
Eyes, you had, Indeed, Timothy, as
sented Mrs. Pember, with an emphatic nod
Eyes, indeed, l had, repeated Tompkins,
his chin quivering. SIT was not the thing
for a fair minded man to think so poorly of
himself; but 1 was alone, n the old asso-
Citations and the solemn services were very
impressive. There was Lucy in the choir;
she always could sing like a nightingale.
When heard her voice again, it overcame
ME. / did not hear much of the sermon.
1 think it was something about temptation
and the suggestions of the evil one; but I
am not sure, for1 had my head down on the
back of the pew in front Of me most of the
time. 1 had to fight desperately to contro
my feelings. One minute / would think
that as soon as the services closed ]
would rush around and shake hands with
my old acquaintance, and the next minute
would be doing my best to swallow the
lump in my throat. 1t YVES as tough a
sixty minutes as I ever passed. But final
ly the services were ended. l felt that it
was plainly my duty to stop in the porch
and claim the recognition of my friends.
l did pause ard try for a few seconds to
collect myself; but the lump grew bigger
and choked me, while the tears icONId flow.
Besides that, as the adversary just then, in
the meanest possible manner, suggested to
my soul, there was that pork. knew
would have to tell of it if I stopped. But /
did not stop; l retreated. When l reached
my room in the hotel 1 felt a longing to get
out of town. Fortunately, l could not
leave on Sunday. So in the afternoon 1 sat
with the landlord on his broad front plat.
form, or piazza. 1t was not the person who
keeps the place now but one of the oldest
inhabitants who knew all about the Bur.
lington people. He guessed that 1 was a
college boy; he thought he remembered
something about my appearance. l did not
hotels n boarding-houses had been my
home in Chicago. l had always been q
single man, just as 1 am to this day. This
landlord was a geod-hearted old chap, and
it was pleasant to talk with him. While
we were sitting there, who should come
along the street but Lucy, with a book il
her hand. She was on the opposite side
walk and did not look up. She would no
look at a hotel on Sunday. I asked the
landlord about her and he told me all there
was to tell. She was living in one end of 6
little wooden cottage over toward Winooski
another factory woman OCCUPYING the Other
part of the house.. They made a home to
gether. The landlord said Lucy was an ex
cellent woman and might nav married one
of the overseers in the factory any time she
chose for years back, but that she preferred
a single life.
"When l got back to Chicago 1 KEEP
thinking about Lucy Cary. The old time.
when we used to live in Wilmington cam
back to my mind. The truth of it was,
was getting along a little, at last, in Chi
myself all the while planning how l coult
have Lucy Cary near me-"
"Did you want to marry her, TimothyH
} inquired Mrs. Pember.
at was not that" he replied; "but
wanted to become acquainted with hel
) again. knew she was the best girl l hac
ever seen. She always was just as gooC
and pious as anybody could be. We wer,
like brother and sister almost, when young
n when l thought of home and my folk
ana OLD wilmington ana Gne cOlleSe Gays
somehow Lucywas the center of it all. II
l fact, almost everything else was gone. Ny
folks were scattered and Lucy and Uncle
Jason were nearly the only persons up thi
way that 1 could lay claim to. There is
!, kind of lonesome streak comes over a ma
when he has been grinding away ina grea
city for a good many years and comes bacl
to the old places and sees them so fresl
and green and quiet, and he can't get owe
= it. He will cling to anything that belong
7 to old times. was strongly influenced t
write to Lucy but finally L did not. I de
, termined that I would get all 1 could 70
two or three years, and then would com
here and face things. 1 would get some
!. thing comfortable and would have a plac
: l could call my own in Chicago
Then, when 1 had it fixed, l woul
l come and see Uncle Jason and Lucy
and stand the racket. Of cours
! it was nonsense to feel shy, but it SCENE
; to me that 1 could not say a word until
1 had something to brag of. They knew, in
, general kind of way, that l was in Chicago
g dealing in pork, or doing ~auctioneering Q
l~-..ls