Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1883-04-18
"And always get something,

N'NO Ol' )up L Olttn llllnh DunCll
Panza's Rosinante, like the Wander
ing jew, is still on earth.
"And this is he?"
"This is he without doubtw
Just then he drove through a piec
of woodland full of music. He said
GLOW truly Mary Hewitt voice
ones feelings in her poem:
Come ye into the summer woods! But nj
mortal pen can
Tell half the sights of beauty you ma,
sec"
| loved to hear him talk. Hi
language was pure, his anecdotes re
fined, his quotations from standard
authors were frequent but brief ant
to the point
"Who can he bc,' | asked myself
again and again. At farmhouses he
stopped to give packages, from a
mended scythe snath to a gold brace
let. And whenever a good woman
ran out and called, he took her wishes
in note book, with all the courtesy
and bearing of a thoroughbred gentle
man.
took the liberty to glance at the
book. The writing and spelling
showed him to be man of educa-
tion.
"Will not so many stops prevent
yohr making tlme?' | asked.
"Oh, no! | am not obliged to be at
--- until II NJ, and | started two
hours earlier than the old driver did. :"
"ln order to obligc the farmers
along the route?" / asked.
"ln part; but Pope says, 'Sclf-love
and social are the same | love the
morning air, L love to speak a word to
the good people, to break the dead
monotony Of their work-day lives by a
bit of stirring news. Truly, these hours
on the road are the pleasantcSt of my
life"
"lou are never lonely?'
"Never. With God and nature can
one be loncly?"
A gentleman, with a fine pair of
blood horses passed up, and they eX-
changed cordial greetings. The driver
said:
"a woman, who had worked in the
family of that gentleman's father for
many years, he took care of the last
ten years. She had become helpless
and nearly blind, so when she died
last month she was past mourning
1or. After she was made ready for
burial and laid in the parlor, we'll
dressed stranger called to see her. He
was told she was dead. He said he
had not been east for thirty years, and
would like to see her. He stood a few
minutes looking upon her, and then
bent down and kissed that cold, brown,
Wrinkled forehead and left two great
tear drops on it, and with choking
voice said:
MY mothers dearest friend.
After moment the driver turned
to me and said
"Do you suppose those friends knew
each other when they metz
81 am sure they did" said.
at is a question | often ponder. !
My wife died when she had just passed |
into full and. beautiful womanhood. |
She had touched her thirtieth year. and |
was but little older, in the vigor
of my manhood. She is now in the
freshness of her womanhood with the |
eternal freshness of heaven. If. as
Milton has it, From the lowest deep a
lower deep still opens, so, from the
highest hight higher hight must
rise; and she, who was purity itself
must be purer now. And we grow
like those with whom we mingle, and
she, 50 lovely here, has been for
tWenty-seven years the companion of
angels! How glorious she must be,
Will she-~can she know me there?'
Almost my first question on reach
ing my friend was:
"Who is that driver?'
81 have not the honor of his
she laughingly an
swercd.
81 have" l said.
So soon as the post-wagon drove on,
| started for the post-oflicc.
"Will you please tell me who that
driver isl"
The postmaster gave his name and
said he was once an editor of -.
naming one of the best papers in one
)f our largest cities.
"lIe is a man of elegant culture"
said.
ale is that. | don't know of any,
pody that can touch a match to him.
lie has been through college and been
% Europe, and has been acquainted
With Il good many distinguished
nen."
"What has brought him to this ?"
"Drink." Mrs. Lucy d. Sanford.