The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1889-03-16
TWO FORCED HOLIDAYS.
How Jim Poulder Learned the
Great Blessing Of Work.

81 amt goin' ter stand this any longer.
They's jes' workin' me to DEATH an there
amt no use er bein' white slave furever
I'm old enough guess, to hev somethin' ter
say bout what / shall do. Yes, Pm
comm" raising his voice to shout.
"Thet's the way tits. Eff amt a-workin'
an strainin' an workin' every minute an
amt jes whar they want me, there's callin'
an a-fussin' bout my lazness as eff never
worked at all. 1t jes' amt rightn
With slow, awkward steps, the speaker,
an overgrown lad Of fifteen years, moved
from the bank of the brook, where he had
been 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 ex-
preston 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 yeproved for his actions
made his lot seem harder than it was.
"Ain't you got them logs piled up yet?"
was what he heard, as he shambled across
the open clearing TO where his father stood
"Here i came up from t'other clearin',
'spectin' you'd be ready to help me with this
'ere team, an you aint half through yet
It's too provokin' for any thing, Jim, the
way thet you put me outr'
Mr.. Poulder looked very much annoyed,
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
mil n y no
moment to inform his father just what he
had been thinking of.
There was an element of romance In this
lonely farmor's boy, and as he looked at his
father, he flattered himself that he was a
hero. He had already confessed to himself
that he was a white slave-a phrase that he
had culled and memorized from q dime novel
that had been lent to him by one of his
boyish playmates.
1t was true that, like all farmer boys, he
had been brought up to work, and although
his father was sometimes little strict with
him, compelling him to do his allotted task
when he had attempted to shrk 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 had always been given him since he
was able to handle a hoe or axe
Jim was not disobedient son, but loved
his father and mother, and considered it q
punishable crime to cross either Of them by
word or deed. Yet sometimes he felt lonely
and restless on the mountain side, and he
nfht buf I,,,
half so hard II he had 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 q few minutes to in
dulge in this pleasure, when his father came
upon the scene, and 1t was partly n guilty
conscience reproving him that made the
boy so irritable and cross, and put him into
such defiant position toward every one.
"Father, Pm tired of workp' he finally
broke out, after his father had been staring
at the feled trees for some time.
Mr.. Poulder turned his head quickly
toward his son, and surveyed him wonder
ingly for few seconds without speaking.
-Jim's eyes dropped before those Of his
fathers, and slight blush stole into his
tanned cheeks.
''Tired of work, you say, Jiml"
The question was slowly asked, as II the
speaker was rejecting, or had not yet quite
understood the full import Of the lads re-
mark.
"Yes, father" continued the boy, gaming
courage by the silence that followed. ~
amt never grumbled afore, an I've allus
done jes' what ye told me TO, but 1t WANT
because didn't feels ef / had more'n /
oughter do. There amt many fellers thet
has to do the work thet i hev, an there
aiat many thet would do it without maxim
kick EFF amt right on hand jes' when ye
want me, there's great stewin' an fussin',
jes' as Of I'd committed some crime I've
jes' been readin' where young feller left
home fur good fur jes' such treatment, an
how he made his way up into the world in
another State. He complained bout his