The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1891-07-15
Selected Storp.
CIaytonyille,s Famous Fourth.

it about right, if he tCdS drunk. Precious
little independence there is about it For
my part, I'd as lieves be under British
rule as the rule of rum, and that's what
Claytonvill's under to-day. Humph
much patriotism there is in our celebra-
ton. A good time to get drunk-that's
what they mean"
Oh, don't, Aunt Esther, don't
You make my heart achel" And pair
of deep, wistful blue eyes were turned
bright black orbs. The black eyes
softened; they always did when they
met Estelle's supplicating gaze; but
the voice was as brisk and snappish as
ever, as she continued:
Well, amt telln' the truth, child2
You know how it was last Fourth-you
know how it will be this. There amt
half a dozen out-andout temperance
men in the town. No, there amt one.
There's some that talk temperance, I'll
grant, but how do they act Afraid to
do one thing towards shutting up rum
shops, for fear they'll injure their bust
nessl 1t makes me sick! The last
time old Deacon Downing got up in
meeting and talked about temperance
people concentrating their forces and
waiting till the time was ripe for ac-
tion,' l got up and left the church. 1
declare, l had to. If the time wasn't
ripe for action after last Fourth of
July, I'd like to know when it will be.
Poor jamie Cushing And there'll be
another this year, you see f"
ooh, auntie, auntie" and the girls
bright head was buried in the sofa pill
low, as she burst into deep, heart
rending sobs. The old lady said moth
ing for time, only stroked the fair hair
softly and wiped, furitively, the tears
from her own eyes: then, as the sobs
grew less violent: Hush, darling,
hush! We can't help it. I'd stop the
business quick enough if l could; but
what's the use of breaking our hearts
over thing we can't help?"
"That's just it, auntie," and the girl
sprang to her feet with resolute
bound. " Can't we help it? Have we,
the women of Claytonville, done our
part? believe we can stop it, through
Gods help. Auntie, will you help me?"
eyes, child" was the solemn an
swer; if God has given you this work,
I'll help" and they stood for moment
with clasped hands and bowed heads,
as if the chrism of holy mission were
already being poured upon them.
Claytonvlle was town not wholly
unworthy to be called representative of
large class, even in our enlightened
East. Nestled in among green hills,
eight miles from a railway, with no
manufactures and no interest to invite
a new population, it seemed in some
way left behind by the great advancing
wave of our nineteenth-century life.
Many of its young men had gone West;
it seemed strange that all should not
60; but many had chosen to remain,
and were Flooding on as their fathers
had done before them.
One interest alone was hourishing in
Claytonville, and that was the liquor
interest With a population of about
five hundred, the town boosted seven
licensed liquor saloons, with perhaps
an equal number unlicensed. No tenn
perance interest had ever been awak-
ened there. The families who boosted
wealth boosted likewise an aristocratic
descent, which effectually precluded
them from any interest in so plebean a
thing as a temperance society. They
used liquor, too, those staunch old
farmers, in moderation " of course,
and it was a well-known fact that even
the parson considered Paul's injunc-
ton to Timothy as being especially
binding upon himself.
OF late years there had been marke
deterioration among the young men of
ClaytOnville; their fathers had awak-
ened to the fact that their sons were nc
longer drinking 1" in moderaton;" but
then, boys will be boys, you know"
seemed always logic sufficient to quell
all fatherly fears. The mothers-God
pity them!-grew daily sadder.
The Cushings and St. Clairs-or Sin.
clairs, as they were called-were Clay
tonville's two" Oldest families" Theil
broad lands lay adjoining each other
and the families had always sustained
the closest intimacy. Aunt Esther
Sinclair was the town oracle, freely
privileged, throughout the length and
breadth of Claytonville, to say wha
she pleased and to scold ad Hbitum
With her in the queer old mansion
house lived her niece Estelle. Between
Estelle and Jamie Cushing there haC
been boy-and- girl friendship, which
as the years went by, had hidden fai
to ripen into something more.
On the Sd oflast July Estelle, a "swee
girl graduate" had returned from Bos
ton, where she had been tending schoo
for the past five years. Jamie hac
called on her that evening, and she hat
wondered little at his flushed face ant
the strange voice with which he ha,
told her of the fun we fellers III hav
to.morrer." She had awe kened mex
morning to find the town a pande
monium; and at ten O'Clock had seel
her boy lover racing madly by, so in
toxicated he could hardly keep his sea
in the saddle. He had yelled out som
maudlin sentiment to her in passing
and, within another hour, she had see
him borne in at his mothers door-col
and stiff and dead.
Is it any wonder that, with the mem
DRY of that day still fresh before hel
Estelle Sinclair dreaded another Fourt
of July in Claytonville? Is it an
wonder that she should dedicate he