Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-10-27

cious for my years. ! attended the
public school four months in the year,
and labored with my father the bal
ance of the time among these rocks.
went to meeting" on Sundays in the
old edifice on top of high hill, on the
steeple of which a veering wooden
Goldfish denoted the direction of the
wind, and saved the people from the
proclamation which cross in that
place would have caused. I listened
to the choir, elevated to q fearful
height in the rear gallery, as they
thundered forth resounding anthems
and fugues. heard the doleful-visaged
and drawling-voiced minister pray
forty minutes at a stretch, and preach
ninety, frequently devoting nine
tenths of the whole race to exquisite
and eternal torment. 1 had a thirst
for knowledge that the public school
could not supply. A stray copy of the
Boston Daily Journal, coming like an
enchanter from the outside world,
sometimes stimulated this thirst. 1
was generally regarded as "a green
boy" IAN odd stick" etc; and 1 once
heard of Deacon Halleck telling my
father that a boy with such out
landish notions as Dorr ought to be
whipped regularly twice a week.
Doubtless I should have been, had the
deacon been given the ordering of me
earlier than he was; but my father, al
though reared in all the vigor of Puri-
tanism, was by nature kind and ten
der-hearted, and religious fanaticism
could not change him. To my own
puzzled youthful mind, it often seemed
as though grave mistake had been
made in my allotment. l seemed to
have been set down in the wrong cor
ner of the world, among people with
whom had no affinity.
Twas still a mere boy. 1 learned as
/ grew older, and long before bade
farewell to my northern home, to re-
spect the intelligence, the force, the
sturdy honesty of this people, whose
very ''failings leaned to virtues side"
Still, l thought then, as l think now,
that should always have been dwarfed
and cramped among them. 49, r..
Returning to the bleak hillside
where my father and / were striving to
plant corn on that afternoon, record
how 1 suddenly stopped work, leaned
on my hoe, and contemplated my
father. He was in his shirt-sleeves;
his grazing hair and refined but
wrinkled face were turned to me as he
bent over his toll. A sudden inspira-
ton seized me.
Father! Do you suppose that when
/ get to be as old as you are, / shall be
planting corn in these rocks?"
He stopped and looked up in sur
prise.
81 hope not, Dorr-I hope you WON'T
But what put such a question into your
head just now?"
"It's in my head all the time. The
way things are going on here, there
don't seem to be anything coming to
me but the same poverty and the same
labor that you have always had"
He looked at me-a serious, pitying
glance it was-and sat down on a gran
ite bowlder. He leaned his head on
his hand and sighed
"My boy, I've often thought of this.
Your poor mother and I have laid
awake nights talking about it; but
never thought it had troubled you any.
What do you want?"
''To go to the academy-maybe to
college-and by and by to get out into
the world, try to make a man of my
self, like the men read of, and to see
something besides these hills and these
people. I'd like to get rich, and como
back and build big house for you and
mother over on the lake. Yes, I'd like
to do anything rather than live here
all my life"
He smiled at my youthful enthusiasm;
but his look of painful reflection quick
ly returned.
"Dorr, Il had just such dreams my
self, when 1 was young, and presume
that my father before me had them. I
wanted an education, and couldn't
have it. Poverty, hard toll and en-
barrassment seem to be the lot of
those who cleave to this soil. God
knows, wish things might be shaped
as you wish them; but how to contrive
1t I do not know"
His hoe dropped from his hand, and
his eyes sought the ground. Ichanced
to look down toward the river road
and saw man in buggy stop at
our gate. A woman, my mother, of
COuI5tp d5 bhCIt WAC hOhc obhCA 1DOaS
the house, came to the door. There
was a brief parley; then the man got
out, hitched the horse, climbed the
fence and strobe over the upland to-
ward us.
Perhaps my frame of mind just then
inclined me toward n presentiment.
Perhaps the reader will say that IL Is
always easy to predict after the fact.
No matter; the fact remains the same
that a sudden and decided conviction
was forced upon me that this stranger
was to have positive influence upon
my life, and that his presence here at
this time was of itself a promise of
great results for me.
He walked rapidly, removing his
ide-brimmed pa1m-leaf hat and wip-
ing his brow with large red handler-
chief as he came. He was tall, power
full of frame and foridnof face; and /
Observed uthat there was something
about this color, hardly tan, that at
once attributed to the sun of another
latitude than this Every detail of his
person and dress took in at oncci my
attention was certainly sharpened by
the presentiment have mentioned. /
Judged him to be at least fifty years
old, though his face was plump and
unwrinkled. His features were bold
and handsome; there was a twinkle to
his eye and an ever-recurring smile
upon his face that made him seem the
most charming of men. Short curls of
chestnut hair ran all over his head.
His dress was rich in material and
fashionable In cut; diamonds were In
his shirt-front, and an immense soil
taire sparlsled on one Of his little An
gers.
He came up within few feet Of me,
and paused My father had thus far
not seen him at all; he was absorbed
In his revcry. Tho stranger looked
from me to him, and spoke In n round,
hearty voice:
"Well, hero we are. Ny lad, what's
your name?"
"Dorr Jcwett, SIR"
"Is that your father?"
eyes, SIR"
He walked over to my abstracted sire
and bestowed such hearty thwack
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