The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-08-04


| fashion, and looking appealingly at me-.
/ replied, enthusiastically and truly, that
| he had been one of our best lovers OF the
poets.
.'Well, continued Tompkins, shat Sun
| day morning those things began to come
back to me. 1t wasn't exactly delightful.
NV old ambition to do something great in
| the world awoke as if from long sleep.
As prolonged my walk the old assocla-
lions grew stronger. When | came near
the college buildings it seemed as If still
| belonged here. The hopes of an ideal
career were before me as bright as ever.
The grand things 1 was going to do, the
volumes of poems and other writings by
Tompkins, and his marvellous successes
were as clear as day. In short, the whole
thing was conjured up as if it We're pct
ure, Just as it used to be when l was stu
dent in college, and it was too much for
me-"
Tompkins seemed to be getting little
hoarSe, and his frank face was very serious.
"Ttmothy," suggested Mr.. Pember, 'may
be you could tell us what that big rock is,
out in tho lake"
"Why, father, don't you remember?
That is rock Dunder," said Mrs. Pember.
81 guess it is" said the old gentleman,
musingly.
"Weil," resumed Tompkins, "as I was
saying, on one side were Homer and Virgil
and Horace and Tompkins, and on the
other was pork. cannot explain it, but
somehow there it was. The two pictures,
thirteen years apart, were brought so close
together that they touched. 1t was some
thing do not pretend to understand. Man
aging to get by the college buildings, |
came up to this spot where we are now.
You will infer that my eyes watered badly
and to tell the truth they did. OF course it
is all very WE'LL" explained Tompkins, un-
crossing his legs, turning upon his side and
propping his head on his hand again-"of
course, 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
to punish. She had me across her knee
that Sunday morning in a way that |
would have thought impossible. After an
hour | controlled myself and went back to
the hotel. L brushed my clothes and started
for church, with lump in my throat all
the while. Ny trim business suit didn't
seem so neat and hobby as usual. The two
pictures, the one of the poets and the other
of pork, were in my mind | SHE'D along
the sidewalk in nervous condition, and
reaching the church without being recog-
nized managed to get seat near the door.
COulu DelleVe my senses! knew JndU L
was changed, probably past all recognition,
but around me saw the faces of my Bur-
lington friends exactly as they had been
thirteen years before. | didnot understand
then, as | do now, that young man in
business in Chicago will become gray
headed in ten years, though he might have
lived a quiet life in Vermont for quarter
of century, without changing hair"
SIT is the same with horses" suggested
Mr.. Pember. "Six years on 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 felt that Sunday with my
hair half-whitewashed."
you know [ always said you might have
begun coloring your hair, Timothy" said
Mrs. Pember, kindly.
eyes," 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 | shall never have better
chance to tell of, and am 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 that
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 youthful face of Ma
donna-like beauty came out with strange
distinctness from the memories of the past
as | said it.
"Well, L saw Lucy there" continued
Tompkins, ''siuging 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 confiding
manner that | instinctively moved toward
him and took hold of his hand.
"Al right, classmate," he said, sitting
up and looking me in the eyes in pecu-
Iarly winning way that had won us all
when he was in college.
"Why, boysw exclaimed Mrs. Pember,
with her light laugh.
Tompkins found large stone, put it
against tree, and sat down on it, while |
reclined at his feet. He said:
"You have asked me, Mrs. Pember, verv
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
pyramid? That is old Whiteface, and it is
more than forty miles from here. 1t used
to be understood that there was nothing
" hetlCNSl ONSI Uuele eACepU 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 were
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.
IN my time; there were only half a dozen
dwelling-houses, and a blacksmith shop.
and 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 couple of chill
dren playing together; and we studied to-
gether as we grew older. They made n
great deal of studying and schooling over
there. They had almost as much respect
for learning then in Wilmington as thew
have now among the White Mountains,
where they will not allow any walters at
the hotels who cannot talk Greek.
ut was quite an affair when Lucy
and left Wilmington and came to Bur
lington. The departure of two inhab-
ltants was loss to the town. 1t was
not equal to the Chicago fire, but it was
an important event. | went to college.
and Lucy came over the lake to work in a
wooden factory. There is where she
worked, pointing to the beautiful little
village of Winooski, mile away behind
us, lnthe green valley of Onion River.
And she had TO work there for a living.
while you went to collegeW asked Mrs
Pember.
"Ihat was IL ~ caid Tor,nI,;n, ttyu