St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1900-02-07

5000 for en-
All right says he, after thingin' a
minnist, I'll do it.
So we greed to meet at four O'Clock
Saturday afternoon at the East Orange
railroad station. Early that mornin'
started for Jersey with the colts, and
fore that fellow got there I'd got 'em so
used to trolleys and steam cars they'd
hardly look at 'em, and when he cum l
stood the colts right near the engine, and
you'd ought to see his eyes stick out
when them bosses never moved muscle.
Wall, we had a fine ride and we ended up
to his house; and twas a dandy l tell
you! Then says he, Now, Mr.. Harum,
it's just our eatin' time, and you've got
to stay and have some dinner; and
what's more, you've got to stay over
Sunday with me, too.
Wall, seq, you're the driver now for
kind O. liked the Teller and thought I'd
stay.
Wall, come next morning, he SEE, Now,
Mr.. Harum, allus go to church, and 20
like fust rate to hev you 60 with me.
We got good minister and some good
folks and you'll like it.
Wall, he'd been so awful good to me t
| couldn't very we'll say no. l found out
twas a Methodist church, and then
wished I'd spanked up and stayed to
home. But was in for It, so shut M
teeth, and vowed to grin and bear it.
After all, 'twant so bad. The preacher
looked most like priest, and had one of
them checker vests you don't have to
wear no billed shirt with, and after a
while he got to talkin' and swan liked
him. He told 'em he was going to talk
bout the greatest thing in the world.
supposed he was going to be the Metho-
dist church or the prohibition party, but
'twant no such thing. "Twas just doing
good and lovin' people. And he told
those folks they want no religion 'cept
lovin' ; and says to myself, oil fellow, il
you'd come up to bonneville I'd go to
church 100 per cent. more'n do. (Da-
vid's rule was to go to church every
Thanksgiving day il he felt like it, When
we come out Brown asked the same
question folks always ask up to Home
vile: How'd you like the minister p
Wall, says l, he's sound all right, and
he'd make as good mile in the back
pasture as he would fore all the folks of
Freeland county fair
Come evening, Brown, seq he, Now,
Mr.. Harum, l don't allus go to church
evenings, but there's a friend of mine
goin' to talk to Presbyterian church
down here, and | want to CO.. He said
he want minister, so thought per-
haps could stan it Wall, we got to
great big church, and they was an old
teller playin' the all-hercest big organ |
that piece we sing, bout Teller sittin
one day by the orgn and not feelin' ex-
ac'ly right, Jest joggin long with loose
rein for quite piece, and so on, an then
by strikin right into his gait, and goin'
on stronger and stronger and finally fin
ishin' up with Amen that carries 'em
quarter way round the track fore he EN-
pull up. Wall, they did some fine singin
and the minister prayed little, and then
he said he'd been asked to say somethin'
bout bill in the legislature he didn't
know anything about, and he wanted to
int 'dure jedge that did know somethin'
bout it. Darn sensible minister, says l.
Then the jedge got up. Ny, but he was
fine locker Sixteen hands high, neck
like Norman, and powerful in the
shoulder. Wall. he didn't make no great
splurge, but he talked an awful lot o.
common sense, bout the poor tellers he
sent to Jail, and how he'd like to fix it up
so'se they'd come out better inste'd of
worse. Then says he. There's lady
here wish 'ud sing, where is my wan
dering boy tonight?"
Then the organ man played, and the
lady got up, real pretty and modest
lookin', and began to sing. She hadn't
more'n got under the wire fore she began
to make the women feel roun' for their
handkerchief, and swan l got out my
bandana lore she got through the fust
verse. Icouldn't help it.
The boy of my tend'est care,
The boy that was once my joy and light,
The child o. my love and prayer.
never had no real mother, you know
John; she died fore l was two years old,
and twas too much for me. Then she
KEEP on
Once he was pure as the mornin dew
AS he knelt by his mothers knee.
John, was way back in the OF shanty
lore my mother died; seems S if could
member what never could afore. And
shet my eyes and Icould see my mother,
an me little baby kneelin' down and
her a-tryin' to learn me how to pray;
KNOWN she'd got to die, and then they
wouldn't be no one to learn me. John, l
got my mother back that night, and that
grill never know how much good she
done.
And I say, John, it you ever get to
feelin' wicked and a-thinkin' the amt no
God, nor no goodness in the worl', just
you go down to Jersey to my friend
Brown, and let him take you roun' to