Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1889-03-01
TWO FORCED HOLIDAYS.

II amt goin' ter stand this any
longer. They's jes workin' me to
death, an there amt no use err bein'
white slave furever. I'm old enough,
/ guess, to hev somethin' ter say bout
what l shall do. Yes, I'm comin'l"
raising his voice to a shout. "Thet's
the way It's. Eff Amt a-workin' an
strainin an workin' every minute, an
amt jes' where they want me, there's
a-callin' an fussin' bout my laziness
as eff never worked at all 1t jes' amt
rightl"
With slow, awkward steps, the
speaker, an over grown lad of Is years,
moved from the bank of the brook,
where he had been resting, to a large
clearing in the forest, where his ak
and coat were thrown down by the
side of cord of wood.
The soliloquy was merely the nat
nral expression of the thoughts that
had been coursing through the boys
mind, as he lay dreaming on the
grassy sods before the sound of his
fathers voice had disturbed him.
The sudden interruption of his day
dream irritated him, and the probable
thought that he would be reproved for
his actions made his lot seem harder
than it was.
"Aint you got them logs piled up
yet" was what he heard, as he sham
bled across the open clearing to where
his father stood. Here | came up from
t'other clearin', 'specting you be ready
to help me with this ere team, an you
amt half through yet. It's too pro-
yokin' fur anything, Jim, the way
that you put me outr'
Mr.. Pouldcr looked very much an
noyed, and he removed his hat for an
instant, and mopped the perspiration
from his brow with a quick, jerky
movement. Then he jammed it on
his head again, and looked toward
the half finished work of his SON Jim.
meanwhile, calmly leaned against the
trunk of large tree, debating within
his mind whether or not it was not
the proper time to inform his father
just what he had been thinking of.
There was an element of romance in
this lonely farmers boy, and as he
looked at his father, he tlattered him
self that he was a hero. He had al
ready confessed to himself that he was
white slave-a phrase he had culled
memorized from a dime novel that
had been lent to him by one of his boy
ish playmates.
1T was true that. like all farmer
boys, he had been brought up to work,
and although his father was some
times little strict with him, compell
ing him to do his allotted task when he
had attempted to shirll it, Jim Poulder's
lot was not harder than that of hun
dreds of other boys in the country
There seems to be time in all boys
lives when they become dissatisfied
with their surroundings, and long fol-
some sensation, or change in the daily
routine of duty. This time had ar
rived for Jim Poulder, and, as an ex
cuse for his indefinite longing for some
thing, he complained that too much
work had always been given hin
since he was able to handle hoe or AK
Jim was not disobedient son, bu,
loved his father and mother, and con
sidered it a punishable crime to eros
either of them by word or deed Ye
sometimes he felt lonely and restless
ON the mountain side, and he Otter
thought that his work would not b.
half SO hard if he had a companion
About his only recreation was fount
in the woods, cunning, or idly tishin!
) in the small brook that flowed acros
his fathers farm.
He had left his work for few min
utes to indulge in this pleasure, whel
his father came upon the scene, and
was partly guilty conscience reprov
, ing linn that made the boy SO irritabl
and cross, and put him into such dc
: FAINT position toward every one.
: Father, I'm tired of workl'' h
l finally broke out, after his father ba
been staring ct the felled trees TO
: some time.
Mr.. Poulder turned his head quickl
: toward his son and surveyed hiI
! wonderingly for few seconds witt
, out speaking. Jim's eyes dropped be
. fore those of his fathers, and Sigh
blush stole into his tanned cheeks.
Tired of work, you say, Jiml"
The question was slowly asked, rs
the speaker was rejecting, or had nc
yet quite understood the full import {
the lads remark.
Eyes, father" continued the boy
gaining courage by the silence thu
followed. Il amt never grumble
afore, an I've allus done jes' what y
told me to, but it WANT because
didn't feels eff had more'n oughte
do. There amt many fellers tibet he
to do the work tibet l hev, an thei
amt many tibet would do it withol
: maxim a kick. Eff / amt right O
a hand jes' when We want me there's
a great stewin' an fussin', jes' as eff /
committed some crime. I've ies' bee
readin' where a young Teller left hon
a fur good fur jes' such treatment, al
= how he made his way up into IL
2 world in another state. He con
planned bout his hard lot, but h