The Wilmingtonian., 1888-05-19
One Summer Afternoon

Prout's is an old-fashioned farm
house which stands with its orchards
and fields between wide tidal river
and the sea. Summer boarders have
brought the usual changes to item
mis- courts, colored walters and an an
mex of row of new chambers filled
with the inevitable ash furniture from
Grand Rapids. u mai
Old Israel Prout is not quite awake
to the change yet, nor satisfied to reap
a larger harvest from these frivolous
college boys and pretty girls than he
ever did from his meadows of salt hay.
He sits about uncomfortably, and talks
to the older men among the boardeis.
He especially affected the company,
last summer, of an old, shabby fellow
named McCann, 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 men racing in their sail boats.
"Who is that" he asked, nodding
towards young fellow who sat apart
on the bank. 81 have not seen him
before"
"No. He's neighbor's son. Widow
Riddell. She's had hard luck. Only
had this boy, John, an he took to
books from baby. Could do nothin'
at farmin'. Shrewd, sensible boy, too.
Worked his way through college, and
went abroad for two years as tutor for
some rich mans sons. Got a place
after that in big insurance house in
Philadelphia, an then took typhoid,
an lost it. He's been laid on the shelf
for nigh a year. You see he looks
porely yit. But he's ready for work,
if he could git it. 1t isn't easy to git.
He's been tryin' right an left. Got
no infiooence. When you git out of
the percession, s'pose faint easy to
catch step ag'in."
"No, / suppose not" said McCann.
"What did he do in this houses"
"Talked to the furriners that had
business. Them queer LIMOGES come
material to John. Ef he'd taken as
much interest in farmin' as in French,
it 'ud hev served his turn better"
A year ago John would have been in
one of the boats, shouting, laughing,
cheering. Now he thought, how could
any grown man care for such folly!
Life was such breathless tragedy!
| Why, look at him, shelyed at twenty.
three! For six months he had beer
-~Ler.,iss, strnaplinr-be beqeing fol
work-no charity, but work! Al
able-bodied man, no fool, educated, OF
| fire with eagerness to use his knowl
edge and help the world yet not ever
allowed to earn his living! There wa:
no chance in this country for a young
man without capital or influence
none! Men who owed him kindnesse'
had turned cold shoulder on hin
when he asked for work. 1t was {
cold, selfish world, and the true secre
! was to care only for yourself in it!
The fact was that the lad had mad
his first plunge into disappointment 8
common in life, and the chill Of i
struck to his heart. He had receive,
a lot of letters that morning, all re
fusals. His mother had coaxed hin
q to 60 over to Prout's and see the race
, hoping to cheer hin up.
"You must see something of folk
John. Bessy may be there by thi
time"
What was the little artist to him
What home had he to offer her? 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 tb
u leaden light, the creeks black an
l. sluggish. The very tiger-lilies an
marsh-mallows by the path wearied hi
L eye.
Is As be sat on the bank, groups I
70 girls in their airy gowns fluttere
l. through the trees; on the pier wei
d two or three portly old gentlemel
d judges, bank presidents, millionaire
h no doubt purse-proud and miserl
ir He hated them all. "Every man fl
Al himself" he muttered, stretching OF
n his legs as an italian organ-grind'
TO tried to pass him. John would nj
rs bulge.
4 The man was ridiculous enough. c
n his heels were steel spurs, with whic
n when he ground the organ, he strut
4. brass kettle, and on his head hil
= triangular cap edged with bells. T
- set down the organ and began to tu
it, executing sort of frenzied dane
kicking the kettle and wagging |
head. A little girl stood motionle
beside him. John burst into laug
He was but a boy after all in 4
% depths of his despair.
on Even an organ-grinder was an eve
tn at Prout's. The girls came chatteril
in up from the woods; the portly old g
IT. tlemen sauntered across the beaC
cd Mr.. McCann and Israel lounged do'
,p- the bank towards him.
ed "Hyar, you tramp, be off" Sa
PrOut.
-. s.,....xnl