Walter Harland eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 148 pages of information about Walter Harland.

It was a mild evening in June, and slipping out of the house, I went to my favorite tree in the yard, and, as I lay at full length beneath its wide-spreading boughs, which were bright with the rays of the full round moon, my mind was busy with many anxious thoughts.  My anger had by this time cooled down, and when left thus alone I began to question if I had acted right in returning to my home; hard as Mr. Judson was to please, he always paid me my wages punctually, and I feared I had done wrong in thus depriving my kind mother of the assistance which my earnings (small as they were) afforded her.  But when I called to mind the Farmer’s harsh and unkind treatment, I felt that to remain longer with him was out of the question; for during the whole year I remained with him, I could not remember one word of encouragement or kindness, and, to a boy of thirteen, a kind and encouraging word is worth much.  Surely thought I, every one is not like Farmer Judson, and can I not find some place where, if I do my best to please, I shall not be continually scolded and blamed; and, after retiring to rest, I lay awake, revolving all these thing’s in my boyish mind till I mentally decided that, come what would, I could not return to the Farmer.  It was far into the hours of night before I slept, and then my sleep was harassed by frightful dreams, in all of which Farmer Judson acted a prominent part.  From my earliest recollection, the counsels and pious example of my mother had exercised a powerful influence upon my mind and character.  She was naturally cheerful and hopeful, and her heart had long been under the influence of a deep and devoted piety, which exhibited itself in her every-day life.  She never allowed herself to be too much cast down by the petty annoyances of life.  I am an old man now, and the silver threads are beginning to mingle in my hair, but I can yet see my mother as I saw her the next morning when I went down stairs, and in a pleasant cheerful voice she enquired if I had slept well.  I gave an evasive reply, for I did not like to tell her what a restless, miserable night I had passed.  When the breakfast things were cleared away, my mother seated herself by my side, and said:  “Upon reflection, my son, I have decided that you had best not return to Mr. Judson.”  These were joyful words to me, for I had feared my mother would decide otherwise, and I had never disobeyed her, but it would have been hard, very hard for me to obey had she wished me to return to my employer.  Little Flora was, if possible, more pleased than myself at the decision; with a low cry of joy, she threw her arms around my neck, saying “Oh!  Walter, I am so glad that Mamma will not send you back to that old man.”  Poor child, she had never before been separated from her brother, and she had sadly missed her playmate during the past year.  “Although,” continued my mother “you may not have been free from blame, I think Mr. Judson acted very wrong.  If, as I trust, is the case,

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Walter Harland from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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