Norwich bulletin. [volume] (Norwich, Conn.) 1895-2011, 1915-05-19

Perhaps it being Mothers Day made
Almira Ann unusually thoughtful. Per-
haps it Just happened So" But if she
had not possessed the seeing eyes that
look below and beyond the surface of
things, father had never seen the dawn
of his day. Almira Ann CHANGED to be
| looking from the window when her
father came home. He carried a bunch
of White carnations to present to
mother No one ever mfstruSted that
he had trudged long miles through the
dust back and forth for many days
that the money saved from car fares
might be used, generously and gladly,
for his contribution to the little cere-
| monies the family 1ndulged IN on eV-
cry Mothers Day.
The Harrisons' old horse, head bent
down and a general air of depression
possessing him, stood before the door.
Father Madison had stopped, patted the
| old creature fraternally and said to his
driver. go easy on him. He's doing
his best He's old and tired
Then as the driver started without
the usual slash of whip and jerk at
the patient mouth, father had added
sympathetically. He's tired; he needs
a vacation
That night, A1mira, who had been
doing some silent thinking, asked her
mother when pa had had a vacation"
Vacation" unused mother. We'll,
really and truly, 1 doubt if he's had
once SINCE we married, 81 years ago.
He went once back home. That was
when his mother died. He was gone a
week then"
"A sorrowful sort of vacation,
| that" commented A1mira Ann.
"Well, you see," explained her moth
er. 'he never could seem to afford one
The only one anyway that he'd care
| to take would be back to his old home,
and that costs too much"
A few evenings later Almira man
aged to spring the subject on her I'M
suspecting parent.
''Teu me something she urged
| won't you, dad, about your old home
| 1t must have been a mighty interesting
place, from the little I've heard about
| it."
Dad frightened visibIy and instan-
| taneouSly Usually one of the most ST.
| lent of men, he became actually gar
rulous over the beauties and attrac-
tions of his boyhood home and sur
roundings.
'You ought to go there some time
Sis he said. There's no place like
| it, to my mind. There's a brook run
ming through the meadow just below
| our old house. Many's the fine trout
| I've caught there. 1t flows into the
| river half a mile farther down the
| glen. There's a jolly camping ground
| at the bend in the river"
He paused a moment, smiling as his
| MIND rOameQ through the OlO IdunIS
and Alnira could scarcely believe this
was her quiet, reticent, shy father as
he ramb1ed on-of birds and rabbits
and squirrels, of blackbirds shooting
| through the masses of mountain lau-
rel; of the secrecy and the silence Of
the still woodland ways; of the wide
meadows of buttercups. the tangled
masses of wild flowers, campion, VIC
lets, starworts, purple ground ivy and
hyacinths. He described a lake where
swallows at evening dipped and circlet
and flashed over the dark surface. He
recalled travels through the pine wood:
and meetings under great elms; and
Alnira listened, fascinated and yet al
most aghast, as she recognized the
| longing in the sudden avalanche o,
memories she had, all unwittingly
| evoked.
She felt the hot tears Of pity dim.