The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1919-04-12

S,For thirty-five years now, we hav,
published this little local paper, San
and I. !, Perhaps we may be spared
to keep it going for another quarter
century; such things have happened
Or perhaps just tomorrow as we si
writing our briefs and our editorials
our four and five line bits of pabulun
about the out-of-town visitors with
us, the sales Of new automobiles, the
recoveries from the sick-list, who
has a newly painted fence and who
drove into town yesterday with q load
Of potatoes-anything and every
thing which will put peoples names
in print, and please them and make
them buy copies so we can sell our
advertising space-perhaps a soft
hand will be laid on our shoulders
we may look up trife bewilderedly
to:,see who stands there; and we may
behold a stranger-yet stranger
who knows us well, who has come to
guide us to the land of our missing
children, who shall stoop over, take
our blue pencil, write Thirty" be-
meath the items Of the page on which
we are working, and bid us follow.
When that time comes we shall
not be afraid to go, we say, because
we have seen God in the faces and
souls of the ordinary men and women
about US. Although the curriculum
of our earthly education has been a
mystery at times and in many strange
turnings in the long lane of living,
although we have grieved often at
the pied skein we have made of our
lives because we have not been given
to see the reason for the apparent
snarl and tangle of it all, we think
how weary God must be looking down
on the world and watching the mi
quities Of those whose education is
yet, incomplete, and we are cheered
and at peace. For if the Almighty
has the patience and the optimism to
keep the old world going in spite of
the gricvous shortcomings of many
folk in many places, things are not
SO bad as they seem and all must be
well with most. Of us in the end.
True to his agreement, Tom Purse
did take his mother away for rest,
"a rest that meant more than a cess
alton of bodily labor 1t was a rest
of the soul and the spirit in the
companionship of the man-child she
had reared, which companionship in
the struggle of life thus far, 'had
somehow been denied her.
When she had recovered and was
strong again, it was Fred who arrang-
cd the finances; the sons who had
been only human in forgetting the
loneliness of the mother-heart who
had given so much for them, saw her
start off with Tom. Though in years
q it was but short time ago, yet it
was in those far-off pleasant ages be-
fore the scourge of war had blight
ed the world, that Tom started with
his mother on her great vacation to
those PARKWAY. lands that only exist
for most New England mothers in
books, or dreams.
There came morning when Aunt
Mary was helped by her son across
the gang-plank. of great steamship.
The last goodbyes were said by the
boys who were there to see her off.
The smallest details had been arrang-
ed. Nothing lay ahead but the. un-
spoiled Wonderland of the old world.
Nothing lay ahead to the woman who
once been little Mary Wood and mar
ried poor printer for loye-but re-
ward for the things she had gone
through-reward and enjoyment.
AT noon, amid indescribable con"
fusion, the boarding of the last lug
gage and freight to the wierd songs
of the steveadors, the blowing of
many whistles and the last leave
takings, the matches were finally
swung into place, the gang-planks
hoisted and the hausers drawn on
board. Slowly the little tugs pulled
the great lazy monster from its stall
in the city, awoke her from her two
week slumber, swung her about and
faced her toward the .deepablue dis
lance The wharf with the faces of