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

hAh = w AoO PAObOhu uuuOl III 1nah-
aging to get by the college buildings, I
up to this spot where we are now.
Nou will infer that my Eyes watered badly
and to tell the truth they did. OF course it
Is all very WELL" explained Tompkins, IN
his legs, turning upon his side and
propping his head on his hand again-"of
it is all very well to rake down the
college and say Alma Mater doesn't amount
to anything. The boys all do it and they
believe what they say for the first five or
six years after they leave here, But we
may as well understand that if we know
how to slight the old lady, and don't go to
see her for a dozen years, she knows how
20 punish. She had me across her knee
That Sunday morning in a way that l
would have thought impossible. After an
hour L controlled myself and went back to
the hotel. I brushed my clothes and started
for church, with a lump in my throat all
the while. My trim business suit didn't
seem so neat and nobby as usual. The two
pictures, the one of the poets and the other
of pork, were in my mind. l SHE'D along
the sidewalk in a nervous condition., and
reaching the church without being recog-
nlzed managed to get a seat near the door,.
Could l believe my senses? l knew that l
was changed, probably past all recognition,
but around me l saw the faces of my Bur-
lington friends exactly as they had been
thirteen years before. I did not understand
then, as l do now, that a young man in
oAAS |" SAiASo5O WIN DSSoAhS ShoJ
headed in ten years, though he might have
lived a quiet life in Vermont for quarter
of a century, without changing a hair"
cit is the same with horses" suggested
Mr.. Pember. "SiX years on a horse-car in
New York about uses up an average horse,
though he would have been good for fifteen
years on a farm"
EXACTLY" said Tompkins. "You can
imagine how 1 felt that Sunday with my
hair half-whitewashed."
"You know 1 always said you might have
begun coloring your hair, Timothy" said
Mrs. Pember, kindly.
"Yes," replied Tompkins. with an uneasy
glance at me; but l didn't do it. There
was one thing in the church there that
morning that l shall never have a better
chance to tell of, and ! ana going to tell it
now while you are here"
This last sentence was addressed to me,
and my old classmate uttered the words
with a gentleness and frankness thai
brought back my best recollections of him
in our college days, when he was ''little
Tompkins," the warmest-hearted fellow in
our class.
"Do you remember Lucy Cary?" he
asked.
1 replied that I did, very well, indeed;
and the picture of a Youthful face of Ma
donna-like beauty, came out with strange
distinctness from the memories of the past
as 1 said it.
swell, 1 saw Lucy there" continued
Tompkins, '''siugiug in the choir in church,
looking Just as she did in the long-ago days
when we used to serenade her. / am will
ing to tell you about it."
Tompkins said this in such a confiding
manner that l instinctively moved toward
him and took hold of his hand.
Gan right, classmate," he said, sitting
up and looking ME in the eyes in a pecu.
liarly winning way that had won us all
when he was in college.
"Why, boys!" exclaimed Mrs. Pember,
with her light laugh. !
Tompkins found large stone, put it
against a tree, and sat down on it, while ]
reclined at his feet. He said:
"Yo have asked me-, Mrs. fember, very
often, about the people up here, and now ]
will tell you about some of them. Do You
notice that mountain away beyond the
lake, in behind the others, So that You can
see only the top, which is shaped like a
pyramids That is old Whiteface; and it is
more than forty miles from here. 1t used
to be understood that there was nothing
whatever over there except woods and
rocks and bears and John Brown. But the
truth is, right at the foot of the mountain,
in the valley on this side, there is a little
village called Wilmington, and it is the
center of the world. Lucy Cary and Iwere
born there. 1t was not much of a village
then, and it is about the same now. There
was no church, and no store, and no hotel,
- 1LJ bAAAAS EhOA y jill h11I q uOLCL
dwelling-houses, and a blacksmith shop,
and a man Who made shoes. Lucy lived in
the house next to ours. Her father was
the man who made shoes. Lucy and !
picked berries and rambled about with
Rover, the dog, from the time we were
little. OF course you will naturally think
there is something romantic coming, but
there is not. We were just acouple OF chill.
dren playing together; and we studied to.
gether as we grew older. They made a
great deal of studying and schooling over
there. They had almost as much respect
have now among the White Mountains,
where they will not allow any walters al
the hotels who cannot talk Greek.
SIT was quite an affair when Lucy
and l left Wilmington and came to Bur.
lington. The departure of two inhab.
not equal to the Chicago fire, but it was
an important event. L went to college,
and Lucy came over the lake to work in =
wooden factory. There is where she
worked, pointing to the beautiful little
village of Winooski, a mile away behind
us, inthe green valley of Onion River.
"And she had to work there for a living
while you went to college?" asked Mrs,
Pember.
''That was it," said Tompkins. "We
used to serenade her sometimes, with the
rest; but she seemed to think it was moi
OAoSuAy II ll6huU lIDS " a pun H1dCGOIy
girl, and so we gave it up. 1 used to see
her occasionally, but somehow there grew
up a distance between u.s."
"How was that?' inquired Mrs. Pember
"Well, to tell the TRUTH" answered
Tompkins," l think my college ideas had
too much to do with it. l did not see it a.
the time, but it has come over me lately
When a young chap gets his head full Of
new ideas, he is very likely to forget the
old ones"
"You did not mean to do wrong, I an
sure" said Mrs. Pember.
kins, sis that l had to work and scrimI
and suffer so myself, to get along and pay
my way, that l hardly thought of anything
except my studies and how to meet nv ex
penses. Then there was that dream Of
doing some great thing in the world.
taught the district school in Wilmington
three months during my Sophomore yea
to get money to go on with, and / thinl
that helped to make me ambitious It wa:
the sincere conviction of the ~neighborhooC
over there that 1 would be President of the
college or of the United States. l do no
think they would have conceded that there
was much difference in the two positions
1 felt that 1 would be disgraced if
did not meet their expectations. By on
of those condolences which seemed II
follow u fortunes, Lucy made
long visit home when l was teaching
LII W~llInluSUOuI Ole was OHo OIL my pu
pills. She was a quietlittle lady and hardly
spoke a loud word, that 1 remember, al
winter"
"Did you try to talk to her, Timothy?'
asked Mrs. Pember.
81 do not claim that I did," answered
Tompkins. 81 was studying hard to keel
up with my class, and that was the reason
But I wish I had paid more attention t.
Lucy Cary that winter. 1 would not hav,
you think there was anything particula
between Lucy and me. 1t was not that.
"We will think just what we please" in
terrupted Mrs. Pember, in a serious tone.
SWELL" continued the narrator, 81
would be absurd to suppose there was an.
such thing"
There was a long pause. "You had bet
ter tell the rest of the story, Timothy,
said the old gentleman, persuasively.
Eyes, I will, responded Tompkins
"After I came back to college l got alon
better than before l had taught. The none,
I received for teaching helped me, an,
another thing aided me. TIL folks in Wi
mington found out how a poor young ma
works to get through college. Some of u
used to live ON a dollar a week apiece an,
board ourselves in our rooms, down ther
in the buildings, and we were doing tn
| hardest kind of studying at the same time