Year: 1875

owned nard, stony farn, elghteen miles
from Hartford. One September evening
about nine O'Clock, as he was returning
home from a neighbor's, he suddenly rec
objected that he had left his bride hang
ing on bar-post, by his sheep barn, when
he turned his old white mare into the pas
ture that afternoon. He sprang over the
wall and struck across the lots. hoping to
secure it before any greedy-mawed bovine
should make it forever useless for bride
purposes. As he drew near the barn he
thought he heard voices inside. What any
one should be there for, he could not con-
lecture. He stepped lightly as he could
on the unmowed rowen and slipped in be-
hind the door which was standing ajar,
and listened.


Philip, his eldest son, was there, and
Clinton Dexter, son of the man at whose


house he had been to call. The lads were
about OF an age-both nearly fifteen.
Philip was talking when his father went
up to the barn. but he finished what he
was saying just as Mr.. Raymond got into
a position to catch the words; and young
Dexter commenced to reply. He said:


"Well. Phil, my father is just as incon-
siderate as your father is don't think
that he remembers he was ever boy.


There is scarcely a day in the year that he
does not ride out-he rides norm he
used to before he was selectman and you
may be sure that he always has something
on hand to be done, just as your father
does. Soon as the frost is out Of the
ground, in the Spring. he tells me before
he rides off that may pick up stones or
fodder After that time ploughing and
| I,,1o A Ia 1otn tn thn Ro


tells me to hoe corn or potatoes, or weed


the garden, till it is time to get up the
cows and if he is at home when take


the pals to go out and milk, he always
tells me to be sure and strip the cows
clean, just as though he thought should


be lazy and dishonest enough to leave half
the milk in their bags if he did not tell me
so; and he would be just as likely to tell
me before dozen visitors as any way
makes fellow feel mighty uncomfortable,
you know. 81


In the winter have to chop wood most
of the time that am not in school; and l
,, don't think my father feels quite satisfied
if don't chop as much as full grown
man could do in the same time. didn't
know till the other day just how it was
with you. Phil don't wonder that your
patience is worn out; and l assure you
that l am quite as tired OF living in this
| way as you are.
II hesitated good while, Clint" Phil.
replied, "before decided to speak to you
| about it; but made up my mind in hay
ing time that it was the last summer that
should stay at home and help hay it and
fare as did then. Father is always
ready to find fault-he generally says
when he gets home. II don't think that
you've hurt yourself working to-day.
Philipt' And sometimes he asks me ii
my back doesn't ache, I've chopped so
much or hoed so much, and no matter If
work as hard as l can from sunrise till
sundown. never hear anything more en-
couraging-never get one word of praise.
feel sorry to clear out on my mothers
account. ! love her, and believe she
! loves me but if father loves me he never
shows it-never speaks a tender, loving
word TO ME. My mind is fully made up,
Clint. am going to run away and !
want to get off tonight. Never mind
about your clothes-I've got shirts and
| handkerchiefs and stockings enough put
up, and I'll divide with you until we can
earn more. Last week thought it over.
and thought it would grieve mother SO,
pretty much decided TO give it up but l got
so provoked the day that father went to
Hartford. determined that would 60
anyway. You see, here I've lived ever
since l was born, within eighteen miles of
| Hartford but never was there, nor in
any other city. l asked father if / might
| 90 with him last June, when he was go
ing, and he said couldn't 60 very well
then; but | should go with him the first
| time that he went after haying.


Well. when he spoke of going last week
| asked him if he was going to take me
along, and he answered. pretty crabbedly;
mo sir pretty time to think OF going when
the hired man is gone.' l told him !
would get you to come and do the chores,
and you would be as faithful in doing them
as | would be- but he wouldn't hear
word about it. didn't feel very light
hearted after he was gone, but tried to
brave it out the best could but worked
hard all day. That afternoon was dark,
cloudy afternoon and got up the cows
and milked them little early than sup
posed did; but don't think the sun was
five n.inutes high when got the chores
done. took the newspaper and sat down
In the doorway, SO as to be on hand to
take care of the horse when father came
and l hadn't read quarter OF column
when he drove up. Well. Clinton, as
true as live and breathe, after his prom
ising me that should go to Hartford with
him the first time that he went after hay
ing. and then breaking his word and leav-
ing me to lee disappointed and to work
hard all day, the first thing he said to me
when he drove up was "What are you
reading for? Why aren't you doing your
chores?' 1t CALLED me. l tell you. but
replied rs could that the chores were all
done and he said: 20, no that is it9 You
do the chores in the middle of the after
noon. when am gone. and sit down and
read, do youp" 1t was confoundsd cutting.
| if he had stuck knife into me it wouldn't
have hurt me any worse. l vowed then
that l would see Hartford on my birth.
day; and shall be much mistaken II am
not there to- morrow morning; and II my
father sees me again for year. he'll see
morn n think he will. will be at tho
barn just at midnight. My bundle Of
clothes is here now in the oat bin. Don't
fail to be ON time, Clint. We must get
single glimpse OF the CITY before steam