The Dawson journal., 1884-01-24
A CENTURY AGO.

An old brown leather-covered book,
The leaves yellow, the writing scarcely
egible, from time and decay-evidently
an old, neglected Ms. To the fire or
to nv private shelf? Which?
These were my reflections as / looked
over the papers of my late uncle, the
rector Of a Somersetshire village.
liked the look of the book and de-
cided for the shelf; and had my re-
ward, for 1 found in the grabbed char
acterS a simple story, evidently written
toward the close of the writer's life.
This story I now transcribe into o more
modern style.
Hell be fit for nothing" said my
father; ian awkward BOBBY who holds
his awl and cuts his food with his left
hand"
So said my father, and so, alas l
felt l was awkward. l was fifteen;
hickset, strong, but terribly clumsy.
could not make a collar, nor sew a
pair Of blinkers, nor stuff a saddle, nor
do anything that I ought to be able to
do. Ny fingers seemed to have no me-
chanical feeling in them. I was awk-
ward, and l knew it, and all knew it.
Il don't know what he's fit for" said
my father to the rector of the parish.
i've set him to carpentering, and he's
cut his finger nearly off with an ak;
then he went to the smith, and burnt
his hands till he was laid up for a month.
Its all Of no use; he spoils me more
good leather in q week than his earnings
pay for in a month. Why cannot he,
like other Christians, use his hands as
the good God meant him to-? There,
look at him now, cutting that back strap
Tor the squire with his left hand"
heard him; the knife slipped, and
the long strip of leather was divided in
moment and utterly spoiled.
There now! look at that A piece
put Of the very middle of the skin and
his finger gashed into the bargain"
The rector endeavored to soothe my
athers anger, while 1 bandaged my
niger.
You'd better let him come up for
nat vase, Mr.. Walters; I should like
,aSe TO hit it, for it is very fragile, as all
mat old Italian glass is; and line it with
me Softest leather, please"
and so l went with the rector to bring
'ack the vase, taking two chamois
Gathers to bring it in.
We reached the house. and 1 waited in
ne lit passage while he went to fetch it.
nc came back with large vase, tenderly
wrapped in the feathers. Alas At that
moment there came from the room,
'SainSt the door of which was stand
~ 'lle sound of voice singing. A
.Vice that thrilled me through voice
.lneE near now as I write these lines-so
'0Sr' 80 sweet, so pure, as if an angel
'au revealed itself to me.
l frembled, and forgot the precious
uioen In my hands; it dropped to the
round and was shattered to pieces.
now shall l describe the rector's
age?
one who had the angel-voice-his
out and l saw her. / for
,o' The disaster, and stood speechlessly
azlng at her face.
lou awkward scoundrel look at
our m work. Thirty pounds Fifty
Ounos An invaluable treasure gone
1eparably in a moment. Why don't
Ou o5 SpeakP Why did you drop it,"
, Drop 1t, 1 said, waking up. drop
ne' And then it flashed upon me
mgr ~
coaal and il she did sing. was there anv
ooaSion to drop my beautiful vase, you
u.oly ". stupid blockheadP There. 90
,.n - VI tne house, do, before you do any
a, n'ner mischief, and tell your father tc
O,sewhip > you for stupid dolt."
~ 9y father heard of my misfortune, and
NJ ~ Ine strap across my shoulders with,
~ o'.. hesitation, for in my young days
@ oyS were boys till eighteen or nineteen
lainingly. '"OO
What 70 he at for ?" eyeryoue would