The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1888-03-17
One Summer Afternoon.
Reb0cca Harding Davis.


Prout' is an old fashioned farmhouse
which stands, with its orchards and
fields, between a wide tidal river and
the sea- Summer boarders have brought
the usual changes to it-tennis courts,
colored walters and an annex of a row
of new chambers.
Old Israel Prout is not quite awake
to the change yet, not satisfied to reap
a larger harvest from these frivolous
college boys and pretty girls than ne
ever did from his meadows of salt hay.
He Sits about uncomfortably and talks
to the older men among the boarders.
He especially affected the company last
summer of an old, shabby fellow named
Mccain, who had, as he told Israel,
but two weeks holiday in his yearly
grind, and had come to spend it in
deep-sea fishing.
One day twinges of rheumatism kept
him from going out to the Banks, and
he sat with Israel, smoking, on the
shore of the inlet, watching the young
mcn racing in their sail-boats.
''Who is that?" he asked, nodding
towards young fellow who sat apart
on the bank. II have not seen him
before"
"No. He's a neighbor's son. Widow
Riddell. She's had hard luck. Only
had this boy, John, an he took to
books from baby. Could do nothing
at farmln'. Shrewd. sensible boy, too.
Worked his way through college, and
went abroad as tutor for some rich
mans sons. Got place after that in
a big insurance house in Philadelphia,
an then took typhoid, an lost it. He's
been laid OH the shelf for nigh year.
You see he looks poorly yit. But he's
ready for work, if he could get it. He's
been tryin' right an left. Got no in
flooence. When you get out of the
percesslon, | s'pose tain't easy to catch
step ag'in.'
"No, suppose not" SAID McCann
"What did he do in that house?"
"Talked to the furriners that he'd
business. Them queer LIMOGES come
material to John. Eff he'd taken as much
interest in farmin' as in French, it 'ud
have served his turn better" g.
A year ago John would have been il
one of those boats, shouting, laughing
and cheering. Now, he thought, how
could any grown man care for such
folly? Life was such breathless trag
edy Why, look at him, shelved a
az! For six months he had beer
scheming, struggling, for work. Al
able bodied man, no fool, educated, OF
fire with eagerness to use his knowledge
and help the world-yet not even al
lowe! to earn his living There wa
no chance in this country for a youns
man without capital or influence
none Men who owed him kindnesse
had turned a cold shoulder on hin
| when he asked for work. 1t was cold
selfish world, and the true secret was t.
care only for yourself in it.
The fact was that the lad had mad
his first plunge into disappointment, ST
common in life, and the chill of
struck to his heart. He had receives
a lot of letters that morning, all refusas
His mother had coaxed him to go owe
to Prout's and see the race, hoping t.
cheer him up.
"You must see something of folk
| John. Bessie may be there by thi
| time"
What was the little artist to him
What home had he to offer her2 Tw
years ago he had planned
But he had come to please hi
mother. How dull the sky was Th
marshes were fiat and hideous in tn
leaden light, the creeks black and slug
gish. The very tiger lilies and marsh
mallows by the path wearied his eve.
As he sat on the bank groups of CIR
in their airy gowns fiuttered throug
the trees on the pier were two or thre
portly old gentlemen, judges, ban
presidents, milllonajres, no doubt purse
proud and misery. He hated ther
all. every man for himself p he mu
tered, stretching out his legs, as a
Italian organ grinder tried to pass hin
John would not bulge,
The man was ridiculous enough. o
his heels were steel spurs, with whlc
when he ground the organ, lie struck
brass kettle, and on his head a higt
! triangular cap edged with bells. H
set down the organ aud began to tur
it, executing a sort of frenzied dane,
kicking the kettle and wagging h
head. A little girl stood motionle: