The Appeal. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. ;) 1889-19??, 1889-03-23
TWO FORCED HOLIDAYS.
How Jim Poulder Learned tho
Great Blessing Of Work.

VI amt goin' ter stand this -auylanoer
Ihey's jes' worlin' me to death, am there
amt no use er bein' white slave furever
I'm old enough, guess, to hev somethin, te,
say bout what T shall do. Yes, I'm
comin'!" raising his voice to a shout
"ihet's the way tits. Eff amt .a-worlsin
an stralnin' an worlzin' every minute. an
amt ]es Whar they want me, there s o. ca lin
an a-tussln' bout my laziness as >efI.neve]
worked at all. 1t jes' amt uight!o
Wlth slow, awkward steps, the speaker
an oFergroWn lad OF fifteen years, moved
from the bank of the brook, where he hac
oeen resting, to large clearing in the for
est, where his axe and coat had been thrown
down by the side of cord of wood.
The soliloquy was merely the natural OK
preston Of the thoughts that had hear
coursing through the boys oafnd, as he lay
dreaming on the grassy sods before the
sound of his fathers voice had disturbed him
The sudden interruption of his day-drean
lrritated him, and the probable thought
that ne would be reproved for his actions
made his lot seem harder than It was.
"Ain't you got them logs piled up vet2+
was what he heard, as he shambled across
the open clearing to where his father stood
Here 1 came up from t'other clearin,
'spectin' you'd be ready to help mevith this
'ere team, an you amt half through vet.
It's too provokin' for any thing, Jim, the
way tibet you put me outr'
Mr.. Poulder looked very natsrh .annoved.
and ne removed his hat for an instant, and
mopped the perspiration from his brow
with quick, ierky movement. Then he
damned 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
moment to inform his father Just what, he
had been thinking of.
Inere was an clement Of romance in this
lonely farmers boy, and as he looked at his
father, he flattered himself that he was q
hero. He had already confessed to himself
that he was white slave-a phrase that he
had culled and memorized from dime novel
that had been lent to him by one of; his
boyish playmates.
1t was true that, like all farmer bows he
had been brought up to work, and although
his father was sometimes little strict with
him, compelling him to do his allotted ta six
when he had attempted to shirlx it, Jim
Poulder's lot was not harder than that of
hundreds of other boys in the country.
There seems to be time in all boys' lives
when they become dissatisfied with their
surroundings, and long for some sensation,
Or change in the daily routine of duty. This
time had arrived for Jim Poulder. and. as
an excuse for his indefinite longing for
something, he complained that too much
WORK mad always been given him since he
was able to handle hoe or axe. 49,
Jim was not a disobedient son, but loved
his father and mother, and considered it p
punishable crime to cross either of them by
word or deed. Yet sometimes he felt lonely
ana restless on the mountain side, and he
often thought that his work would not be
nall SO hard it he had a companion About
his only recreation was found in the woods
cunning, or idly fishing in the small brook
that flowed across his fathers farm. He
had left his work for few minutes to in
dulge IN this pleasure, when his father came
upon the scene, and it was partly a guilty
conscience freproving him that made the
boy so irritable and cross, and put him into
such a defaot position toward every one.
Father I'm tired of work!' he finally
broke out, after his father had been staring
at the felled trees for some time.
Mr.. Poulder turned his head quickly
toward his son. and surveyed him wonder
ingly for a. few seconds without speaking.
Jim's eyes dropped before those of his
fathers, and a slight blush stole iu5o his
tanned. checks.
Tired of work, Eou say, Jimf'
. The question was ;slowly asked, SIS If the
speaker was refecting, or had not yet.quite
understood the full import of the lads ne.
mark.
Yes, father" continued the boy, gaining
courage by the silence that followed 81
amt never grumbled afore, an I've allus
done jes' what We told me- to. but it WANT
because didn't feels eff had more'n
oughtcr do. There amt many fellers thet
has to do the work tibet I hev, am there
Amt many thst would do it without maxim
, kick. Eff Amt rig hit on hand jes' when We
E'aEt me, there's a great stew;n' am fussin',
les as ef I'd committed some crime I've
ies bs4sn readiu' S::aevo young Teller left
lome far good fur jes, such treassment, an
how he made his way up into the world in
aaots!er State. 40 eomp'ained bout his