St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1891-10-01
Stood idle in the barn.

O~~--
Russell had been to Little York for job at
Hiram's mill,
Then to the Plain to get the mail and down
the long sand hill;
And as he crossed the island bridge the slab
pile met his view,
His offer and the chance for fun just thrilled
him through and through.
And if I'm going to draw the slabs, now is
the very time,
Or they will haul them all away to burn
kiln of 1imei
One afternoon the ponderous cart drew near
To get the load of slabs for school house cheer.
Wallace and John, with volunt eers a few,
With triple yokes of steers. a gallant crew.
Russell on deck cried, pass the slabs along"
And so they did with willing hands and
strong.
| They piled the cart with such industrious will
| That the loads top was higher than the mill
And the carts owner trembled when he saw
| The m onstrous load they had set out to draw
| Cautious they moved with cheers along the
way,
And still the creaking axle held the sway.
| Adown the Paddock hill, across Moose
meadow flow,
Around the rocks and up the hill they CO.
With heaps of scolding at their lengthy team
They land, all blown, upon the school house
green.
For all the years thereafter that the school
house stood.
The tracks were plain where Russell drew
that wood
All thought the joke good of its kind.
But Uncle Jirn-it ranked in his mind
To give a load, and have them steal the pile,
Stirred his Scotch blood and raised the latent
bile.
He ma he ard orr
Without hose tracks brought anger to his eye
And he glad and cen forgot to scold
When for trifiing the house sold
And the town agent, plowed with shining
share
And raised crop of mealy murphies there.
The actors in this scene are all at rest
If this the worst they did, then they
blest.
To help toier on ife's weary road,
Or light the burden of a heavy load,
To lift the fallen, give the hungry bread,
Support the weak and raise the dropping
head.
This was His work near Jordan's stormy sea
The Wonder Man. from ancient Ga1iee.
If gifts are measured by the sense of loss
The giver feels tho the gifts dross,
Then this small gift, enlarged by playful boys,
Had in its essence more of paying joys
Than all the harvest in his previous years.
Tho kindly acts adorned his daily round
And mong his neighbors always generous
found,
Treading with cautious step this vale Of
tears.
And this the story I heard it when
Twas told in groups ofjolly citizens
| Who in their shops when daily tasks were
done,
Recounted all the scene and called it fun.
After this reading the roll Of honor
was suggested and it was found
that old No. 8 had sent eight Of
her boys to the battlefield, as fol-
lows: John w. Ramsay, George
Casson, John Graves, Edward
French, Frank Fuller, John Ripley,
Walstein Morris and Mvron Graves.
The first four laid their lives on their
country's altar and reck' t not of the
sacrifice.
Rev. Samuel Graves read the fol-
lowing poem illustrative of school
life:
Rev. DIR. Graves Poem.
Read on the occasi of the re-
union of the pupils who attended the
"Old Branch" school between the
years 1880 and 1910.
80 for the touch of vanished hand.''
For voices hushed in the silent land =
| flushed, forever and aye!
| o for the watt of magic wand,
| To summon once more the scattered band,
And gather them here today!
Summer her robes is putting BY
The green leaf and the rose;
| The Autumn winds begin to sigh;
| Prophetic that the year is nigh
It's melancholy close.
| Apples hanged on Bonded bough;
Asters and golden-rod appear,
Footsteps of winter even now,
In muffied tones are the ear.
So life flows on in even tide:
Or over beds abrupt and steep;
AS rivers ever onward glide
Until they reach the boundless deep,
Where all there hurrying, worrying waters
sleep.
And we pass the years away,
That turn chestnut locks to gray;
And thin our numbers, friend by friend,
AS we ourselves draw near the end.
We've wandered hence far. far from home
In SUMMER chimes, meath softer Skies
But hither, home, we loyal come,
To the dear spot we highest prize
'Bower'd in these hills that bless our eyes =
''New England's Rose;' New England:
pride;
In cultured charms, the peerless bride,
graceful Dread of these Sylvan hills,
Keep tryst perennial with the sportiv'
nymphs
That wanton by the rills
We come not now to mourn and sigh
Ger broken dolls or lost jack-knives
Or hayward sons scolding wives,
Or husbands, unruly grown,
That's hard to make their wills own =
But o1den cries to call back,
; That lie along 1ife's earlier track;
And Gull again those golden joys,
| When we were rOrnriney girls and bOyS: