Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1894-06-06

Amund and a droll kind of protector
ship. He made him go back and put on
his coat when he started out in his shirt
sleeves in chilly weather. He would
send him back to shave of a Sunday
morning when he proposed to go to
church with a two days beard, and he
would take his dads part at the table
when the mother would scold him or
make unpleasant remarks implying dis
respect.
"Mother always thinks that every
body can do things better than my
dad" he would observe i'll his slow
drawl, when his dad had been unlucky
enough to ;,rouse his wife's displeasure,
and straigl4tway dad would feel little
horny paw under the table grasping for
his own. That was his way Of consol-
ing his dad
He believed fully that his dad was
the wisest the cleverest and the best Of
men, and however unworthy he might
feel himself, what comfort, what hap
piness it was to this poor overworked
carpenter to have one creature on earth
who reposed this touchingly unquestion-
ing trust i'll him! What "my dad"
said that was law, and what 'my dad"
did was always admirable, and though
dad was conscious of many failing he
weuld not for the life of him have the
Little Chap suspect them. He strove
manfully to live up to the Little Chaps
idea of him.
People said he spoiled the boy, and
the mother particularly, who was trife
jealous of their intimacy, declared that
it was time the Little Chap was sent to
school and learned something besides
whiting and cutting his fingers. This
seemed SO perfectly rational that, out Of
consideration for the Little Chap,
Amund was at last persuaded to send
him to school. 1t was of no use that the
boy wept and declared that he wanted
to be with his dad How was his dad
to get ON without his help? What would
become of dad if he did not look out for
him? This idea that he was helping
dad became SO rooted in his mind that
he harped upon it early and late and
grieved himself thin and pale for fear
that his dad might come to harm with
out him.
Somehow life was no more the same
to Amund after his loss of the Little
Chaps companionship. There was no
joy any more in his work, and it seemed,
too, that his luck had deserted him.
Once he ran file, the handle of which
broke into his hand, and another time
he nearly split his kneepan with an
ADJ. Then he was laid up for three
weeks. Provisions ran very low in the
house. Kari, his wife, began to talk
about applying for help to the guardians
of the poor. It was then the plan ma
tured in Amund's mind to cross the
ocean and begin life over again in the
new world, where a man of his skill
certainly could accomplish something
more than to keep out Of the poorhouse.
Accordingly, though it nearly broke
his heart to part from the Little Chap,
he crossed tho Atlantic, promising to
send for the family as soon as he had
founded homo for them in the great
west. He begged hard to be allowed to
take the Little Chap with him, but
Kari would not listen to that, because
to her the Little Chap was kind of a
pawn, a guarantee that her husband
meant to keep his word and send for
her and the undesirable girls as soon as
his circumstances warranted. Her con-
science was not quite easy in regard to
her treatment of him, and she could af
ford to take no chances.
Amund arrived in Chicago at time
when skilled carpenters were scarce and
wages high. There was a great deal of
building going on, and he had no diff
Guilty in obtaining work. He was mas
ter in his trade, thoroughly honorable,
frugal and industrious. 1t is not to be
denied, however, that life is dreary
affair to one who tolls and tolls from
morning till night, and whose starved
heart cries out every hour and minute
of the day for one who is far away.
Where is the Little Chap now? What is
the Little Chap doing now? How does
he look? Does he care so much for his
dad as he did, and is he eager as ever to
help his dad?
These were Amund's constant ref1ec-
tions whenever little respite from Ia
bor afforded him chance to think. Sit
ting with his dinner pail, leaning
against his workbench, he would shut
his eyes and fancy he saw the Little
Chap standing before him, with his
grimy little fists in his patched trousers,
and his tousled yellow head little on
one side as he looked up into his dads
face and said, "How would you ever
get on without me, dad?" Or he would
lose himself in the thought>of the oft re-
peated scene at the dinner table, when
the little chap stood up for his dad man.
fully, and the little hand, with its
sweetly comforting touch, stole into his
under the table. And then the tears
would gather in his eyes and roll slowly
down his cheeks, leaving grimy track
like that ora rain drop on dusty win
dow pane.
''My Little Chap, my dear Little
Chap" he would murmur as he arose
and returned to his toll, ''when shall I
ever see you again?'
IL WtlS Ull1S
his boy which made him turn every
penny many times before he could per-
suade himself to spend it. He grew posi-
lively stingy, denying himself the neces-
sary food and clothes, always trying to
do with little less, in the hope of has
tening the day when he should be able
to send for the Little Chap. He worked
surreptitiously after time in order to
earn some extra pennies, and he got the
reputation among his fellow workmen
of being mean, penurious skinflint,
who boarded his wages with a view to
becoming boss some day and lording
it over them. He was accordingly excess
lively unpopular and only succeeded in
escaping injury by keeping scrupulously
out OF every ones way and ignoring in
suits which made his blood boil.
At the end of, one year Amund had
saved $3.50 from his wages, but having
no confidence in the banks he carried
the entire amount in gold eagles in a
leather belt about his waist. The con-
sciousness of carrying SO much money
made him, however, very uneasy and
disturbed his sleep. -Four or five times
every night he started up in terror, hav-
ing dreamed that his money was stolen.
1t then occurred to him that. the only