The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-07-26

: < ] " : 5 :: $ years E@2ME Burchel had taken the little orphan boy E&9AU into her home. It had been her first H@ A%4H ton, they remembered after the death E&H&E of her invalid father had invested her N A%E N sapped and sober middle age with H tardy almost upbeconing freedom w@MzNaW And she had sooner trembllngly
 1ztea gained her secure possession of the little
 CD Stephen than from every direction plati-
 tudes of approval drifted toward her.
 Slatterny mothers, who had themselves bred big families without development in themselves of heroic virtues, were loud to predict that the accessibility for child would work miracle for the lonely woman. The kinder of Sophie's .neighbofs : had agreed that it would give her Something to live for; the others less gracious1y that it would give her something to do." Nobody would have gone far to that the arrangement would benefit the boy for like the rest of the world Wray ford had its sheer for "old maids children; but Wrayford could see for itself that lean, sober, little Stephen seemed if ever child was adapted to his destiny. He had belonged to that less lovely half of the adolescent race in which misses, from very birth, the beautiful completeness of infancy; children who are incomplete adults, merely whose too sharply nodded faces the anxious presage of things to come; whose little mouths set and whose eyes, barren of dreams, impatient for maturity. Even the age of four, you could have detected no infant impshness in Stephens already NNe-controlied character.
 It had, indeed bee. pattern of staid eompanion- ship that they had presenteds Stephen trudged docely to church by Miss Burchells side, sat with his beck while she sewed helped her with her gardening It had not seriously troubled his foster-parent, it had the speculative of her 1eighbors that the child was naughty; 1t quite plain that his dignity and good sufficient keep him from irrational misdemea eanors; moreover, she believed that Stephen would keep good" by virtue of the quality of her care for him for there dwe1t within her of the that 4zs1I oesr 1ffr.rc had devout faith in her own genius for motherhood; it was her arrogance.
 Through many patient, unblessed years Sophie Bnrcheil had hoarded, as poet might this belief in her own divine capacity. Neither the tyranny of Adam Burchelps ofg illness norsthe pity of her Loneliness had even faintly discouraged it in her. Nor this merely vague longing to strain warm, laughing babies to her breast; it was the >touchng certainty that she could treless1y cherish and wisely for them. It had been her strangely besettng fear that she might yield her 1fe's constant danger of growing warped thorny, hard pressed, longstarved women will; for she felt that she must keep herself sound and strong and sweet. for the child that would some day need her. It did profoundly matter that the child could not be hex own Every child that she saw for that matter, every puny baby, every scrawny hrchin, called out the unstinted flow of Sophie's maternal tenderness If opnlent and overbrimming motherhood to which Stephen Orth felr heir.
 
 for what she ragnhcently gave him. calcua- ton that Sophie would have the last to make; nevertheless, there intimatons, after year so, of what onlookers considered almost miracu- 'lors recornpense. Stephen was only dutiful he actually gifted. At least he discharged with what other children regarded offensive the tasks that his teachers almost deferental1y assigned him; and by the time he was eight years old his fame as student had gained him prestige in Wray ford of which he himself precociously sensible. But Stephen was as teachab1e in department in letters, and, mindful always of Miss Sopies tender cxhortations he ore-fis juvenile honors graciousy and bore himself toward his elders with the respect that their years if always their mental caliber demanded. His self possession had been born with him. and slightly awkward he always in in- terc6ursey with children, he was always ready to "shake hands agreeaby with any number of adult visitors and describe them his pleasure in attend ing school It was only natural that the question of the childs future career should early to seem a. matter of public importance; and Miss Sophie's entire acquaintance experienced relief when not long after the boys ninth birthday she was able to n- form them that Stephen had tremendously chosen his profession. He to become minister.
 Up to this point Miss Sophie had borne her precious burden with confident courage. She had made all Stephens clothes, always with anxious care that they thick and large enough; she had zealousy nourished his body she had taught him his prayers; and in thousand ways had spent upon him. with what discretion she could, the passion of her mother-ove. Now it suddenly seemed to her that she had not done enough She had not taken the chld's gifts into sufficient account; and it al most blasphemous that she had allowed him to call her mother" There seemed no adequate help that such commonplace woman as she felt herself to De could give superior in preparing for the ministry" But Miss Sophie grded herself afresh. week later she had decided that if she could not give Stephen spiritual reinforcement she could at least educate him. It became known in Wrayford that Sophie Burchel wished to 'take in sewing"
 Once started upon the formal part of his education, Stephen found himself with singular ease Where his classmates disappointed him, there were always professors that he found congenial. He was after al very little inconvenenced by Miss Sopfies small income, the friends that he made found always