: Walter Harland Or Memories of the Past by Caswell Harriet S - Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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WALTER HARLAND

Or, Memories of the Past

H. S. CASWELL

Left entirely alone on a quiet afternoon, the unbroken stillness which surrounded me, as well as the soft haze which floats upon the atmosphere, in that most delightful of all seasons, the glorious "Indian Summer" of Eastern Canada, caused my thoughts to wander far away into the dreamy regions of the past, and many scenes long past, and almost forgotten, passed in review before my mind's eye on that quiet afternoon. While thus musing the idea occurred to me that there are few individuals, however humble or obscure, whose life-history would prove wholly without interest to others, in the form of a book; and this thought caused me to form the idea of noting down some passages from my own life--as they were on that day recalled to my mind. Like the boy who dreamed a most remarkable dream and, when asked to relate it, "didn't know where to begin," so was I puzzled as to how I should make a beginning for my story. But the incidents of one particular day when I was about thirteen years old were so vividly brought back to my mind, that I have decided upon that day as a starting-point; and now to my story.

"Where alive has that lazy, good-for-nothing boy taken, himself off to now, I wonder, and the weeds I left him to pull in the garden not half done yet; but it's just like him, as soon's my back's turned to skulk off in this way. I'll put a stop to this work one of these days, see if I don't. Its likely he's hiding in some out-of-the-way corner with a book in his hand as usual." These and many other angry words came harshly to my ears, on that June afternoon now so long ago. I was seated in the small room over the kitchen which was appropriated to my use in the dwelling of Farmer Judson, where I was employed as "chore boy," or, in other words, the boy of all work.

"Walter, Walter Harland, come down here this minute, I say."

I started up, trembling with fear, for the angry tones of the farmer made me aware that he had come home in one of his worst tempers, and his best were usually bad enough; and, more than this, I knew myself to be slightly in the fault. Before leaving home that morning Mr. Judson had ordered me to clear the weeds from a certain number of beds in the garden before his return. I worked steadily during the forenoon, and for a portion of the afternoon, when, feeling tired and heated, I stole up to my room, thinking to rest for a short time and then again resume my labors. I was very fond of study, and, as my Algebra lay before me upon the table, I could not resist the temptation to open it, and I soon became so deeply absorbed in the solution of a difficult problem that I heeded not the lapse of time till the harsh voice of my employer fell upon my ear. I had learned by past experience to fear the angry moods of Mr. Judson. In my hurry and confusion I forgot to lay aside my book, and went downstairs with it in my hand. I stood silent before the angry man, and listened to the storm of abuse which he continued to pour upon me, until sheer exhaustion compelled him to stop.

"And now," said he "be off to your work, and don't be seen in the house again till the last weed is pulled from them air beds." This was even better than I had dared to hope, for, on more than one former occasion, I had borne blows from Mr. Judson when his anger was excited. As I turned to leave the room the quick eye of the farmer fell upon the book which before had escaped his notice. Stepping hastily toward me he said:

A few miles from the village of Elmwood lived Mr. Judson, a rich farmer, he might properly be termed rich in this world's goods, for, besides the broad acres which comprised the two farms in one where he resided, he was the owner of several houses in the village, which brought him a handsome annual income. The chief aim of his life appeared to be the acquisition of money, and, when once it came into his possession, it was guarded with miserly care. The very countenance and manner of the Farmer bespoke his nature. Aided by memory, I see him now as I saw him years ago:--he was of medium height, strong and muscular, but thin in flesh. His hair had once been black, but was then sprinkled thickly with gray; he had small piercing, restless black eyes that seemed to look several ways at once. His nose was of the form which I have often heard styled a hawk-bill; and, altogether, there was a sort of dry, hard look about the man which rendered his personal appearance repulsive and disagreeable. His constant care and anxiety was to get the largest possible amount of labor out of those in his employ; consequently, he was always in a hurry himself, and striving to hurry every one else. His farm-laborers used to say that he kept his eyes in such unceasing motion, to see that every thing went right on all sides, that a restless, roving expression of the eyes had become natural to him. Though living only a few miles distant, neither my mother nor myself knew any thing of the character of this man; and when he came to engage me to do "chores and light work" as he termed it, we gladly accepted his offer, as my mother had the idea that residing for a time upon a farm would have a beneficial effect upon my health and constitution. Many wondered when it became known that I had gone to live with Farmer Judson; but each one kept their thoughts to themselves. When I took my place at the Farmer's I soon found that, if my work was light, there was likely to be plenty of it. I did not complain of this, for I expected to work; but what made my position almost unbearable was the constant habit of fault-finding in which my employer indulged. He was dreaded and feared by all under his roof. He was constantly on the watch for waste and expenditure within-doors, and without there could never be enough done to satisfy him; do your best, and he always thought you should have done more. As I have before said, I was very fond of books, and I had counted upon having my evenings at my own disposal that I might still do something in the way of self improvement; but I soon learned that books were quite out of the question in my new home. There was either corn to shell or errands to perform; in short, there was something to keep me busy till nearly bed-time every night. I used sometimes to think the farmer used to study up something to keep me busy on purpose to keep me from study. I believe my greatest fault in his eyes was my love of books. He was entirely without education himself, which, accounted for his narrow and sordid mind; he looked upon any time devoted to books or mental culture as a dead loss.

"The sight of my youngest boy's tears affected me beyond the power of control, and the tears were very bitter which we all shed together, but the stage was fast approaching, and we must control our grief, 'Good bye, mother,' said the boys at last as they left me to take their places in the stage coach, 'Don't fret about us; we will try to do right and remember all you have said to us, and let us hope there are happier days to come, for us all.'

"These were their last words to me, and they were swiftly borne from my sight by the fleet horses of the stage-coach. This was five years ago last October." "But did they never come back," said I, looking in the old woman's face with a feeling of deep pity. "Bless you child, no," said she, "their father won't allow even their names to be spoken in his hearing. When the boys left home, they went to the State of Massachusetts, where they both learned a trade, and are doing well; they often write to me and send me money to buy any little thing I may want. About two years ago in one of their letters they asked me to talk to their father, and try to persuade him to forgive them; they also wished to gain his consent that they might return home for a visit, 'for,' said they, 'since we have grown up to manhood it has caused us much sorrow that we must live estranged from our father. Mother, we have long since cast aside the boyish resentment we may once have cherished, and would be glad to return and inform our father by word that we still feel for him the affection due from children to parents; we would gladly forget the past and be at peace for the future.' I feared to speak of this letter to my husband, but the strong desire to see my dear boys again gave me courage, and one day when he seemed in a better humour than usual I mustered up courage, and told him what the boys had written, but my sakes' alive, Walter, if you'd a seen the storm it raised in our house; it fairly took my breath away, and I didn't know for a while, Walter, if my head was off or on; you may think you have seen Mr. Judson angry, but you never saw him any thing like what he was that day. I must not repeat all he said, to you, but he concluded by saying: 'The boys went away without my consent; you connived to get them off, and if ever you mention their names to me again you'll wish you hadn't, that's all;' and from that day to this their names have never been mentioned between us. They still write often to me and some day I'll show you their letters. I suppose it was wrong for me to speak so freely to you of my husband's failings, but somehow I couldn't help it, and it does me good to talk about my boys. I don't know as Mr. Judson can help his harsh, stern way, for it seems to come natural to him; but I can't help thinking he might govern his temper, if he would only try; as it is I try to do my duty by him, and make the best of what I cannot help; and every day for years I have prayed that a better mind may be given him by Him who governs all things, and that is all I can do."

When I thus returned unexpectedly to my home my mother was at once aware, from my downcast appearance, that something was wrong, and when she questioned me I related the difficulty with Mr. Judson exactly as it took place. My mother listened attentively till I had finished, and then only said, "you are too much excited to talk of the matter at present; after a night's rest you will be better able to talk with more calmness, so we will defer any further conversation upon the subject until to-morrow morning."

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