Hills of the Shatemuc | Page 8

from you?"
"Yes," -- said Mr. Landholm, pride and sorrow struggling together in
his manner, -- "I believe he is."
"Where's he goin'?"
"To Asphodel -- in the first place."
"Asphodel, eh? -- What's at Asphodel?"
"What do you mean?"
"What's he goin' there for?"
"To pursue his studies -- there's an Academy at Asphodel."
"An Academy. -- Hum. -- And so he's goin' after larnin' is he? And
what'll the farmer do without him to hum?"
"Do the best I can -- send for you, neighbour Underhill."
"Ha, ha! -- well, I reckon I've got enough to do to attend to my own."
"I guess you don't do much but fish, do you? -- there under the
mountain?"
"Well, you see, I hain't a great deal of ground. You can't run corn
straight up a hill, can you? -- without somethin' to stand on?"
"Not very well."
"There be folks that like that kind o' way o' farming -- but I never did
myself."

"No, I'll warrant you," said Mr. Landholm, with a little attempt at a
laugh.
"Well -- you say there's an Academy at Asphodel; then he aint going to
-- a -- what do you call it? -- Collegiate Institution?"
"No, not just yet; by and by he'll go to College, I expect. -- That's what
he wants to do."
"And you want it too, I suppose?"
"Yes -- I'll do the best I can by my children. I can't do as I would by
them all," said the father, with a mixture of pride expressed and pride
not expressed, -- "but I'll try to make a man of Will!"
"And t'other'll make a man of himself," said Mr. Underhill, as he saw
Winthrop quit the stoop. "_He'll_ never run a plough up the side of a
house. But what kind of a man are you going to make of Will? -- a
great man?"
"Ah, I don't know!" said Mr. Landholm with a sigh. "That must be as
Providence directs."
"Hum -- I should say that Providence directs you to keep 'em both to
hum," said Mr. Underhill; -- "but that's not my affair. Well, I'm going.
-- I hear you are goin' to be in Vantassel this winter?"
"Yes -- I'm going to make laws for you," Mr. Landholm answered
laughing.
"Well --" said Mr. Underhill taking his hat, -- "I wish they'd put you up
for President -- I'd vote for you!"
"Thank you. Why?"
"'Cause I should expect you'd give me somethin' nother and make a
great man of _me!_"
With a laugh at his own wit, Mr. Underhill departed.

CHAPTER III.
But who shall so forecast the years, And find in loss a gain to match?
Or reach a hand through time to catch The far-off interest of tears?
TENNYSON.
The day came.
The farewell dinner was got ready -- the best of the season it must be,
for the honour of all parties and the love of one; but it mocked them.
Mrs. Landholm's noble roast pig, and sweet chickens, and tea and fine
bread; they were something to be remembered, not enjoyed, and to be
remembered for ever, as part of one strong drop of life's bittersweet
mixture. The travellers, for Mr. Landholm was to accompany his son,
had already dressed themselves in their best; and the other eyes, when
they could, gazed with almost wondering pride on the very fine and
graceful figure of the young seeker of fortune. But eyes could do little,
and lips worse than little. The pang of quitting the table, and the hurried
and silent good-byes, were over at last; and the wagon was gone.
It seemed that the whole household was gone. The little ones had run to
some corner to cry; Winthrop was nowhere; and the mother of the
family stood alone and still by the table in the kitchen where they had
left her.
An old black woman, the sole house servant of the family, presently
came in, and while taking up two or three of the plates, cast looks of
affectionate pity at her mistress and friend. She had been crying herself,
but her sorrow had taken a quiet form.
"Don't ye!" she said in a troubled voice, and laying her shrivelled hand
timidly on Mrs. Landholm's shoulder, -- "don't ye, Mis' Landholm. He's
in the Lord's hand, -- and just you let him be there."
Mrs. Landholm threw her apron over her face and went out of the
kitchen into her own room. The old woman continued to go round the
table, gathering the plates, but very evidently busy with something else;
and indeed humming or talking to herself, in a voice far from steady,

"'There is a happy land, Where parting is unknown --'"
She broke off and sat down