Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1894-11-08

tinct enunciation, which he could UNI
derstand with compare i've ease. What
would he do when she was not near?
This did not make him grateful, how
ever. He must use her, and his silent
rebellions Were more fierce in conse-
quence.
They We're both old when Samuel's
father died and left two-thrds of his
small property to Samuel, and Samuel
and the other third to her. She was
not averse to this arrangement. She
was willing that Samuel should have
everything, if only she might manage
it for him. She was anxious to labor,
to slave for him. All she asked for her
self was to be followed, to be obeyed
implicitly-for the followers own good.
And, 10! the day after his fathers fune-
raj, Samuel, the grave, the silent, be-
gan to assert himself-and that with
long-latent stubbornness. He had long
ago learned from his father that man
is divinely constituted to be obeyed and
served. Even his mother, that wonder
full capable woman, had obeyed her
husband.
Samuel commenced the new regime
by taking his fathers place at the head
of the table before she told him to. He
also put two spoonfuls of sugar in his
tea, instead of one, as was his custom,
and absolutely refused to eat bread with
his sauce. Moreover, he met her look
of establishment with a defiant grunt,
and his little gray eyes cleaned in a
way that showed he had made up his
mind. He would be boss in his own
own house. He took sauce twice.
Mary Clark felt the foundations sink
inp hnnnath hnr foot Shn
been counting on season of freedom.
She scraped some butter from the piece
of bread she was eating and remarked
as if thinking aloud (she had to think
very loud in order to make Samuel
hear: "The old gather together; the
young scatter. Fathers gone, an theirs
no tellin' when all he's shaved an dug
for all these years will be gone too
scattered to the four winds of the
earthn'
She sighed, and, with her eyes fixed
prOphetically, gazed on the wasteful-
ness of the future. Samuel, the spend
thrift, stirred his tea. The death of his
father had turned certain speculations
of his into absolute knowledge. He
had lived in a quiet corner ofthe world
where nature for the most part took her
course unmoditied by seemingly alien
forces. Severe storms and pestilence
were unknown there. Death was usual
ly as the dropping of the scar and vel
low leaf. The blade, the ear, the full
corn in the ear and the harvest. 1t was
thus that the monarchs of the forest
fell and the young saplings stood. 1t
was thus that his father had died. 1t
was thus that she would go at last and
he would be free. Evidently she had
not thought of this. He had best re-
mind her
"Life's unsartain, All got to die
some time. Best be ready" he said,
in cheerful tone.
This was the beginning of long
struggle. Each occupied ground that
was impregnable, and retreat to their
fortresses ended most of their skirmish-
es for the time.
Then Samuel Clark reminded his
mother, scarcely ten years his senior,
that she was old and must soon die,
and then he would wear his best clothes
and rent his farm and board in town,
or travel. Her only defense was: Eyes,
Samuel, but | hope to be able to lay
you away first. You know, Samuel,
you're def, and you'd be cheated out
of your eye-teeth. | hope to be spared
as long as you need me, Samuel"
And Samuel, who knew what this
kindness and care meant, was not soft
ened. He knew it was true-his deaf
ness and the ability of the world to
cheat him. Bearer than himself was
his little property, which he so longed
to enjoy in his own way. He felt pow
erless, yet impotently welded his one
weapon. "All got to die. The old die
first" In his thought the flower OF
youth was yet to bloom for him.
AS to the picket fence, it seemed tc
Samuel that she had always wanted
it. Given passion for flowers, a firm
faith in the economic value ofchickens
and no picket fence, the result is easily
imagined. Mary Clark's husband hat
considered flowers a sinful waste OF
land and labor. What were door-yards
for, if not for the chickens? And Sam
uel felt that in order to be the man o
with armOr in the opinions of his
summer when flowers had not bloomeC
do so his youth had passed in weary
ing chase after chickens When he
had become old enough to go to tn
fields, generations of brindle dogs hat
worn out their lives in the same occu
patton.
Like his father, Samuel abhorred
blossom that was not a harbinger of al
edible fruit. Apple blossoms were beau
tiful to him because of the apple to fol
low. They were more beautiful afte
the petals had fallen, revealing tn
round green ball at their base whicl
dispelled the fear of barren pistil
But he had grown accustomed to tn
flowers in the door-yard. He woul'
have missed them had they failed t
appear. He would have missed thos
vigilant skirmishers, the chickens, ha'
they been limited to a space of thei
own. He would have missed the pei
sistent reminders of his mother tina
eff that there fence was only built!
and his own unfailing antagonism
Perhaps he would not have liked t
miss any of these things.
~ tell you what it is, Sam-u-el Clarl,
, all l want is to get you away lon
enough, and I'll build that fence my
SELF" she said at last, desperately.
''No tellin' what may happen befor
next spring." the old man crowed, hi
bleared eyes lighting. perhaps yol
l. L