The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1886-02-04
The Christening.

AhO
No, won't forgive our parson-not' down to
my dyin' day,
He'd orter waited minnit ;r that's what II
alters say,
But to christen my boy, my baby, with such
an orful name
Why, where's the use o'talkins l tell you he
was to blame.
You see it happened in thistway; There was
father an Uncle 81
An mother, an each one wantin' finger in
the pie
Each with a name for baby,,as ef hadn't no
voice,
But the more they talked an. .argied, the more
stuck to my choice.
"Semanthy"-this was father-"you'd best
take pattern by mother,
For she named thirteen children thout any
such fuss or bother,
As soon as she diskivered that family names
was too few,
Why, she just fell back on the, Bible, as per-
fessers air bound to do.
"Semanthyn-this was Reuben--"most any
one else could see
That bein' as Pm his father, he rter be
named for me.
You say my names old-fashioned; well, I'm
cld-fashioned too,
Yet 'twarn't so long ago, nuther, that both of
us suited you"
Then there was Uncle Silas: "Semanthy, l
tell ye what
Just name him Silas. I'll give him that
hundred-acre lot
I'll make out the deed to-morrer--an' then
when I've gone to my rest,
There'I be trihe O. money to help him
feather his nest.
But the worst of all was mother. She says.
so meek an mild:
''I'd love to call him lothian, after my oldest
child
He died on his second birthday. The others
are grown-up men,
grown since then.
His hair was soft an curlin', eyes blue as blue
could be,
An this boy of yours Semanthy, jest brings
him back to me-"
Well, it warnt no easy matter to keep on
sayin, No,
An disappintin' every one. Poor Rube he
fretted so.
fairly made me cry.
For I'd planned to name the darling Angus
tus Percival Guy.
All that was name worth hearin', so 'risto-
cratic an grand
He might "a held up his head then with the
proudest in the land.
But no,o- Well 'tisn't no wonder, when l
look at that blessed COLD
An think of the name he's come to, that
can't be reconcied.
At last coaxed up Reuben, an Sabbath
mornin' came
When took my boy to meetin' to git his
Christian name.
Jest as proud as peacock stood awaitin'
there;
I couldn't hardly listen to the readin' nor the
prayer.
| For of half q dozen babies mine was the finest
of all;
An they had sech common names, too But
pride must have fall.
"What will ye call himT says Parson Brown,
bendin' his head to hear.
Then handed bit of paper up, with the
names writ full an clear
But Uncle 81, stead of passin it, jest reads it
over slow,
With sech wondrin,' puzzled face, as eff he
The child was beginnin' to fidget, an Rube
was gittin red,
So kinder scowled at Uncle 81, and then l
shook my head.
"The Nance says Parson Brown agin; "I'm
feared haven't caught it,"
"Jee-hoshophat" says Uncle ST. out loud,
before he thought it.
The parson-hes near sighted-he couldn't
understand,
Though p'inted to the paper in Uuclc Silas'
hand.
But that word did the business; an before l
got my breath
That boy was named JEHosHAPHAT. I felt a
| most like death.
I couldn't keep from cryin' as hurried down
the aisle,
An 1 fairly hated Widow Green when see
her kinder smile.
I've never, neper called him by that name,
an never will,
An can't forgive old Parson Brown, though
bear him no ill-will
e. 7. Corbett, Harper's