Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1885-03-11

One day-lt was year or moro al
ter I had made Uncle Stantons ac-
ouaintance-he said to me suddenly,
"Davy, my boy, the world isn't so very
big, and the people in it often run
amuck when they don't calkerlate."
We were lounging at the doorway,
and Uncle Stanton was seated on the
raised floor with his back against the
easement, pressing down the tobacco
in his pipe with the end of his Stubby
finger.
"What is it, unclep" I queried.
There seemed to be something on his
mind, and fancied he wanted to talk
to me.
"Sit down here, lad, and I'll tell you
little story. It's story there's none
left to tell but me. and I'm agoin' to
let ye hear it, Davy, because you've
bin good and because in y'r face I've
found the only comfort Ive had many
long day. You don't know how
those eyes of your'n have gone to my
heart-how they've brought me back
to when my boy Harry was so much
like you that sometimes when I've
looked at you I've stopped my work
and let my irons grow cold"
Had he forgotten what he was about
to say? lie had paused and was
searching his waiStcoat pocket for a
match, and his head was bent down.
As he relit hispipe and puffed it into a
glow saw that his eyes were moist
and his hand was trembling. I edged
close to him, and placed nay hand on
his arm.
"He was a happy little chap, Davy,
and the folks O the village used to fill
us with feelin's sort O pride like. by
the things they would say of him. You
see, he was smarter'n whip, and if
thar WAS anythin' agoin' on among
the young folks Harry was at the head
of it. Well, he growed up and got to
readin' all kinds O books with larnin'
in 'em that set his mind a wanderin',
and then somehow Harry was changed
like and didn't care for our old fash
ioned ways; he wanted to go to the
big city, and at last one day he went
"Did he run away. uncle" 1 asked
run away and leave you?"
ayes, he ran away, Davy, leavin' mt
an mother; mother who loved hin
and who used to pray for him every
night until my heart would get tt
bleedin'. He ran away, Davy! H,
didn't come to us like the little MAJ
he used TO be, but he stole away on
night, it was just after harvestin' time
and then, but he never writ to US
never writ to mother!"
The old man touched his eyes witt
his apron and drew hard on his pipe.
All this was years ago, but l hav
not forgotten the deep impression i
l made on me-his sad, worn face
which seemed so much more trouble,
A than ever before, and the nervou
o twitching of his hands, all Of which
: scarcely realized then. can see it al
e now; we two sitting there in the oil
: doorway, the sun setting back of th
t hills and the long shadows streakin
t the road that fell away from the sho
into the little valley below.
"Don't tell me any more I said, "i
r it makes you feel so bad. Listen
9 There are the cows over at the Des
h cons; they are coming in for tn
n milking"
g He paused and then went into tn
e shop. He raked the Goals at the forg
e and covered them up for the night.
Il fancy that he did so that l might nc
: discover his agitation.
"He never writ to u.s." he present.
|. resumed, "but Joe Wheeler did, an
h when that letter came which told u
a how Harry-our little Harry--ha
g been put in Jail fora crime, it brok
9 poor mother down. But we nevt
: knew what came of him. Thar WE
., nothin' we could do; we were f;
It away"
f. "Oh, uncle, and you have never see
7 him since that timep' asked, feelin
IS a great lump in my throat.
n seen him, Davy? Seen him? tt
r world is wide and the years have bee
v long, but Davy-"
He turned away from the forge ar
le came near 10 ME.
d "Davy, seed face last night OF
ii on the road thar that KEEP me avail
% till the light came in my winder tn
G. mornin'. l seed a face that's a b
RI CROWN and agrowin' on me; itt'wa1
81 ghost, Davy, but it was him, hir
lie my Harryl"
re 1t was dusk when I left Unc
3 Stanton that evening. I help
as him close up the blacksmith shop al
n walked with him down the road to j.
to Wheeler's old house, where Unc
Stanton boarded, and when 1 start
lie back again to my own humble home
Ill remember that was 50 full of thoug
,r- that mother, who waited me anxior
lie ly, said:
in "Davy, I didn't hear your hap
lie whistle as you came along; VIII
If, makes you so late, child?"
How well remember next day wi
op its drizzling rain AMI the wet leaN
he of the big maple tree which We