The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1891-12-09
Seletteo StOrp.
A Story of q Letter.

large ranch. Caleb's stumpy figure
was bending over table in the rough
back porch and his face was drawn into
a pucker which told that his task was
no easy one.
Eyes, it's early l know, but It's mail
day to-morrow-and thought I'd send
a letter."
Folks back East?" asked James.
Well, / haven't got many folks.
Amt so well off as you are. It's my
stepmother, but she's good woman
and she likes to hear from me, and |
think l ought to-
No one ever thought of taking Caleb
for an exemplar in anything. He was
slow and clumsy in his movements and
never dream,d of presuming to make "a
suggestion of duty to any one. But it
had come to be observed that Caleb
was to be relied on.
If you look for him where he be-
longs he is sure to be there" bis en-
ployer had been heard to say. And
some of the boys had noticed that
Caleb's quiet {" think | ought to )"
always referred to something he was
sure to do.
James had intended calling upon
Caleb for assistance in the turning of
water into the irrigating ditch upon
which the crops so largely depended,
but he now turned away and went by
himself, with weight at his heart and
a shadow upon his brow. If asked the
reason for it he must have been slow TO
admit to any one else that it was called
there by consciousness of neglect of
duty, but the fact was very plain TO
himself.
Just a stepmother. If Caleb thinks
It's a matter Of fought to- write TO
her about every mail day ! wonder
what he'd do if he'd had a mother
and a father and sist Heigho! |
didn't expect TO be gone three years
when | got mad and quit"
In the early spring-time James had
been seized with spasm of remorse at
loved him, to whom he was so much
and TO whom he realized he owed ii to
be such comfort.
"I'll write. And some day III go
back and do, my best by 'em."
He did write, his letter carrying all
the Joy which may be imagined into
had answered, the sight of their poor
cramped handwriting bringing tears to
the eyes of the wandering son. And
Susan had written:
Father says he'll never miss driving
in TO the postoffice on the days that
letter could get here after your mail
day. And mother stands at the gate
watching for him to come back"
1t had reached his heart and spurred
him up to writing quite regularly for
awhile. Then the intervals between
his letters had grown longer, and now
for weeks he had not written.
Passing later again near Caleb's rough
library, he paused with a half smile.
The sun-tanned, freckled face was now
in the throes Of au effort to accomplish
fine-looking address TO his letter,
drawn into a series of knots and wrinkles
astonishing to behold. All of a sudden
they relaxed into a smile Of pride and
delight, as he held up and contemplated
the scraggy result Of his efforts.
I'D rather pillow all day." he said,
meeting James gaze with beaming
eve. Eyes, would. / always feel as
though I'd tackled big job and got
the better of it when I've wrote let
ter. l feel as light as feather When
used to let it slip sometimes, / felt as
though had stone 10 carry. | feel
that way now, when wrilin' times
comm But I've found the best way
TO get rid of that feelin's just to get
right at it and do it, l think that's the
way with most things when you think
you ought to, don't you?"
Yes, do" said James, as he went
on towards the stables. And when
you kno,c you ought to, as do" he
added to himself.
Caleb followed him with a shout be-
tokening his unburdened condition of
mind, and leading out one of the shaggy
ponies used in herding the cattle, was
soon galloping the four miles TO the
point at which the weekly mail was
gathered. Scant and irregular it was,
and who can tell how many anxious
hearts watched for its news of loved
ones, or waited in the WEAKNESS of hope
deferred for tidings which did not come.
The full moon arose over the wide
expanse of rolling mountainous scenery
as the riders form was lost in the dis
lance. James leaned against rough
cart and gazed half mechanically about
him.
Al wish | had written too. l didn't
mean 10 get into loose ways about it
again-as sure as l live L didn't.
Mother watching at the ate, Susy said.
Is'pose it's the same old gate-the one
used to swing on when l was little and
get scolded for it. Next Tuesday'il be
the day mother'll be watching"
Ia the hush of the glorious light his
thoughts wandered over years gone by.
Far back, almost to infancy did his
memory stray, bringing up scenes
vague and misty, incidents only dimly
recalled; yet in all his mothers face,
gentle and tender, seemed TO stand out
distinctly, sometimes he saw it as in
church, with the grave expression put on
for the day. Sometimes it bore smile
of sympathy with some of his small de-
lights, again, perhaps, frown or a
grieved look over his shortcomings.
"Yes, and remember exactly how
she looked when she whipped me, and