Middletown transcript., 1892-07-14
FRED'S MOTHER.

Cohutta Mountains. From tall,
halfdenuded sycamores. shivering in
the chill blasts, dead and dying leave;
were swept from the silvery twigs
The fields were rolling seas Of bend
ing corn.staiks with whispering blades
Beyond them rose the rugged noun
tains, whose sides and brow were
robed in the red and gold garb Of
sumach, goldenrod, and the sunset
splendor of myriad tinted leaves.
An uncouth, overgrown, frowsy-
haired country boy, with an axe on
his shoulder, came down the noun.
tain-side and made his way along q
path which skirted field.
Something caught his attention
and stopped his cheerful whistle. II
was an overcoat, lying on a log neal
the path. Its glossy elegance pleased
his eye. He paused and bent over to
stroke it with his hand, his face light
ing up with peculiar pleasure as he
did so.
He knew that it belonged to Colonel
Joel Wiubridge, the wealthy owner ol
the plantation and the boy looked
far across the fields towards where be
had seen, from the mountain-side, the
colonel following wagon into which
his men were gathering corn. They
were now barely in view.
Looking more closely at the coat
the lad noted large pocket-book in
its breast pocket. His heart felt sud.
denly cold as the temptation came
upon him to open the pocket-book and
see its contents.
He looked around him; no one
could possibly see him.
The boy drew out the pocket.book
and opened it. 1t was full of bills.
He had never seen so much money in
his life. Quickly, as if the sudden
breeze which passed through his tan
gled hair we're the owners hand upon
him, and the rustling through the
corn a voice, he thrust the pocket
book back and turned to 60 away.
Then he was tempted again. He
thought of Colonel Winbridge owning
all the lands for miles up and down
the fertile valley, and said to himself
that the money in the pockst-book
was in reality small sum to its owner.
The boy dropped bis axe beside the
log, and took the pocket book out
again, and looked about with hard,
set expression coming into his face.
lie Daruly DTeALueu.
The wagon was even farther away
than before; the heads fthe men and
horses seemed mere specks on the sea
of corn. There would be no danger
of detection, he thought-Colonel
Winbridge would think he had drop
ped the pocket-book somewhere and
besides, no one could trace it.
Then the boy, yielding at last, put
the pocket-book into his own pocket
and hastened homeward.
He could scarcely draw his breath.
In narrow slip of woodland just be-
fore be reached the clearing where bis
fathers cabin stood, he paused in the
shadows and began to reflect.
As the shadows heightened and
thickened. the wickedness of bis deed
grew upon him. He was q thief-a
common thief, nothing less and all
the money in the world could not re-
move the stain Of guilt from hil
conscience. With a sudden lightness
of heart he turned back. He would
restore the money to its place. Ht
almost ran, so great was his eagernss'
to undo what he had done. But
reaching a rise in his path, he heard
and saw the rumbling wagon return
ing. Colonel Winbridge was among
the men within short distance Of th'
overcOat.
Too latel Poor Fred grew whitel
and colder. The instinct of self-pre
seryation seized him. The money
must not be found on his person
Near him lay large fat stone. Sur
rounded by bushes, the boy was un-
observed. Hastily raising the stone
he deposited the pocket.book under it
dropped the stone back. and raj
homeward.
As he entered the cherries hut
with q low roof and o leaning mud
and-log chimney, he saw his father,
surIy old man, and his mother, prema
turely old, too, sitting at rudely con
structed loom.
She looked up as her son came in
0N;d Won chon your cord toeday