Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1875 — The Lazy Boy’s Load. [ARTICLE]

The Lazy Boy’s Load.

t oung Coville is bringing in wood. Watch him. The wood lies bv the sawbuck. There are two good armfuls of it, but he is going to bring it all in at once. That is the better way, as it saves one trip. He is getting it upon his shoulder with great difficulty. The pile rises rapidly. It is all up but a few sticks, and he has to steady himself with great eflort while feeling around for them. Each piece comes harder than its predecessor. The bottom sticks are apparently cutting into th* flesh of his am, and one at the top is pressing most painfully against his cheek. He is sitting upon his haunches in a disagreeable position, the increasing weight making his knee-joints ache. The dizzv pile is held in place only by the severest effort of both brain and muscle. The slightest false motion would topple it to the ground. He resizes it All tne color in his body is in his face, and the cords thereof are drawn to the utmost tension His eyes glow like a flame. He can’t find that last stick. Slowly his right hand circles around, feeling carefully for it. His eyes are bright, but they are ranged over the load on his arm, and the very nearest approach they can make to the scene is the distant horizon. Still ne skirmishes around with the right hand. A moisture is beginning to well up in the bright orbs, making the distant horizon indistinct. The muscles nearest the mouth are commencing to slacken, and the under lip slightly trembles. It is noticeable that the right hand is losing its caution and growing a tripe impulsive. Its circles are sharper and less in symmetry. He has gone over all the ground in reach. He bends apprehensively forward for more territory; there is a waver, then another, a sudden plunge for recovery—and over goes the

pile, and a bov with passion-distorted face is blindly kicking the inoffensive sticks. Then theback-door opens, and he suddenly stop and glares morosely at the wreck. “ William (‘Henry,” exclaims a shrill voice, “ are you going to be all night bringing in that wood?” 4 - “Go in the house,” he mutters under his breath. ‘‘What’s that you say to me, young man?” “ I said I’m cornin’’s quick’s I could,” he hastily but frankly explains. “Do you 'spose I can help it, cause the wood tips over when I get it piled up?” “ What do you try to carry so much for, then?” she properly asks. “ You bring along part of that wood, and go after the rest, pretty quick, or I’ll send your father out to you,” and the door slams again. Does he take in part of it ? Never. His heart may be wrung, and the tears flow like rain, but he will carry all that wood in at once if it takes five years. It was a mere caprice then, but it is principle now. Heroes over the same performance again, and.ke repeats it until he masters every stick, and rises, reeling, to his feet. Then he stumbles painfully up the path, his breath coming quick and strong, his eyes bulging, and his knees almost screaming out with the ache they are enduring. He can’t see the stoop and hardly anything of the house but the roof. He staggers up the steps and kicks violently against the door. It is opened by his impatient and thoroughly-disgusted mother, but the exertion has fatally disturbed the poise of the Sile. One stick comes thundering to the oor, then another, and another. He makes a desperate effort to reach the wood-box with the rest of the load, but piece after piece come crashing down, arousing the whole family and nearly driving his mother insane. He reaches tlfe box. He may not have one-half the load on liis arm, but he brought it all in at once—thank Heaven! —Danbury News