The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1890-06-25

top rail of the garden fence. A strange
tremor shook his frame, like the chill
that forbodes sudden sickness.
The deacon questioned, "Are you i'll,
Neighbor Bell?'
No answer, only movement as of
raising his bowed head; then it sunk
again upon his arms.
" DO you feel chill, neighbour The
air is damp. Will you throw my coat
across your shoulders?" urged the
deacon, very gently, at the same time
taking the garment from post near
at hand and spreading it protectingly
upon him.
Still no answer, only the voices of the
evening birds, and the low music of
the merry Kedron, a little, swift-howing
brook that skirted the garden grounds.
The sun had sunk low in the west
and touched with its last fiery CLEANS
the summit of the Adrondacks, rising
tier above tier along the eastern no.
rizon.
AT last Farmer Bell, as if rousing
from deep sleep, raised his head slowly
and turned toward the west.
Was it the light of the sunset that
made his face luminous and smoothed
from his countenance all the hard, Bit
ter lines that the deacon had been
wont to see there?
"I'm a rough old Teller, deacon"
said he, speaking in a strange, hoarse
voice, an l don't suppose | ken make
yer understan' jes how | happen
ter be fixed. Ye and hev had a great
many talks tergether bout the way
things ought ter be, and | allus got the
best on we in the argument. But some
thin ye've said tonight has struck
hum-deacon, its struck hum.'
Did We ever hev a nightmare, dea-
con, when somethin' clutched we, and
it wouldn't let go till it he'd crushed yer
life and yer breath and yer strength?
I've he'd such one sense | stood here.
Ye see, deacon, I've allus been
square man l haint cheated nobody
no, never one cent. But, deacon, ken
see it now, I've cheated Mary and
John, an most of all, I've cheated my
self all along. I've cheated myself out
ev the lovin' that belongs ter man in
his family; and, deacon, the nightmare
that's been upon me-mebby its God
that sent it-has showed me that eff l
should die ter day there amt single
heart es would mourn fer me, and there
amt man er woman er child es would
remember anything good ev me.
Ye've asked me great many times
ter try ter be a Christian, deacon, an
I've told We tibet the kind o. religion
that folks was a gitten generally
wouldn't suit my case. But, now I've
come to thinkin' if We ken make out
Of
an insurance-not that kind es is loOkn'
fer good chance in the next world,
but one as will make me be lovin' an
tender an honist by Mary an John an
all the rest now, before die, want it,
An I'd be willing ter give medder
farm fer it, deacOn-a meGder farm an
more, yes-more, deal more, fer |
haint done right by Mary. I've let her
work jest es hard es if she's a poor
mans wife. An, deacon, Pm ashamed
ter remember how I've let that dear
woman do my prayin' fer me all the
years sence we've been husband an
wife. Many's the time I've walked up
in the dead ev the night ter find Mary
down onter her knees a prayin' soft
like an still. An I've heard her askin'
God ter bless her husband an lead him
inter the light. An, deacon, I've laid
there jest like great, lazy hulk, when
| knowed | orter to Git down onter my
own knees beside her an do my share
ev the askin, because | needed it
powerful sight MORN she did.
" An so, deacon, when We fix up the
dokiment, | want We ter make sure that
| be bound fast an strong ter try ter
make up ter Mary, jest the best that l
ken, all that I've starved out ev her
life
An now there's one thing more
an want this ter be the most bindin'
of all, because We know its Mary's
dearest hope-an' that is, is that l
shan't STAN in the way of John an his
hankerin' after bein' a minister AMI
want the Lord ter get strong grip on to
my purse-strings an not let 'em get
shet up tight an kinked inter hard
knots when the call comes ter help
along his work.
CHOW, Dea. Bonus, do we think We
can make out the dokiment in the right
kind er fashion, an make it strong
deacon, make it strong and bindin'?"
Thanks be to God, my brother
The compact shall lie written in letters
of living light. Let us kneel, that God
may place upon it his sacred SEAL"
The farmers knees, so unaccustomed
to bending, almost refused to do him
that service, but his soul knelt in the
depths of that divine humility which
asks no outward sign.
Upon the soft sward, on either side
of the garden fence, the two neighbors
Frustrated themselves. The evening
breeze lifted gently the gray locks Of
their silvered heads, and while the
deacon prayed aloud, across the hills
came the sound of the village bell.
With slow and solemn strokes the years
of Neighbor Green's life were being
measured off. The sound disturbed
not the kneeling suppliants.
When the prayer was ended, and the
bell ceased tolling, Farmer Bell said:
For life and death is it, deacon?"
" For life and death, Neighbor Bell"
When Farmer Bell arose upon his feet