Clinton : or, Boy-life in the country . will always be preciselythe same little boy he used to be. As he grows older,he will naturally change, like all the rest of us. Before Mrs. Davenport could reply, Clinton enteredthe room, and silently took his seat with the family atthe supper-table. The conversation that had justpassed, naturally led both his parents to observe himmore closely than usual. Mr. Davenport thought helooked unusually sober. But the mother, with herpenetrating eye, saw more than this ; she saw tracesof weeping, and a peculiar expression of trouble, onthe face of Clinton. She
Clinton : or, Boy-life in the country . will always be preciselythe same little boy he used to be. As he grows older,he will naturally change, like all the rest of us. Before Mrs. Davenport could reply, Clinton enteredthe room, and silently took his seat with the family atthe supper-table. The conversation that had justpassed, naturally led both his parents to observe himmore closely than usual. Mr. Davenport thought helooked unusually sober. But the mother, with herpenetrating eye, saw more than this ; she saw tracesof weeping, and a peculiar expression of trouble, onthe face of Clinton. She noticed, also, that she couldnot catch his eye, which was restless and uneasy. Hetook no part in the conversation at the table, and ate THE FIRE-SIDE. 117 but little. After tea, he took the lantern, and broughtin from the barn the usual supply of wood and kindlingstuff for the morrow, which was a part of his regularwork. This duty over, he seated himself on a cricketby tJie fire-side, and commenced whittling a piece of. •ruf^t^hlfll. pine which he had brought in. Annie had been put tobed, and his father and mother were seated at the light-stand, which was drawn up in front of the blazing wood-fire. The same troubled look which Mrs. Davenporthad noticed at the tea-table, was still very plainly visi- 118 WHITTLING. ble oa Clintons face. Indeed, he had seated himselfwith the determination not to rise until he had madehis confession to both his parents; and he was thinkinghow he should introduce the unpleasant topic, when hisfather broke the silence by asking: — Clinton, what are you making ? I am only whittling, he replied. I see you are whittling, remarked Mr. Daven-port ; I inquired what you was making. I aint making anything, replied Clinton. Thats a bad sign, Clinty, continued his father. I know i\^hittling is a Yankee accomplishment, but heis a poor Yankee, who whittles away his stick tonothing. Did you never hear of the fellow who losthis sweet-heart by doing that very t
Size: 1569px × 1592px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookpublishercinci, bookyear1857
