face,” sometimes varied by “old vinegar
Judson.” Like all village boys, they were
inclined on holidays and Saturday afternoons to roam
away to the neighbouring farms. Mr. Judson always
drove them from his premises the moment they set foot
hereon, and in a short time he learned that, as the
saying is, there was no love lost between them.
He one day gave one of these boys a smart blow with
his horse-whip the boy had ventured into the hayfield
among the laborers. The blow of course caused
him to take to his heels, but from that time the whole
band were in league against the farmer. If he
left a horse tied in the village, he would sometimes
find him shorn of his mane, and often a hopeless rent
in his buffalo; and, as far as he could find out,
the deed was done by “nobody at all.”
As he was driving leisurely homeward on a very dark
night he suddenly came upon a number of boys near
the end of the village street, and one of the boys
called out loud enough for him to hear, “there
goes old vinegar Judson;” another emboldened
by his companion, next addressed him with the question;
“What’s the market price of vinegar, old
man? you ought to know if any one does, for you must
drink a lot of it or you wouldn’t be so cross
and ugly.” It was a very dark night, and
the farmer was unable to distinguish one from the
other, and horse-whip in hand he made a rush among
the whole crowd, who dispersed in all directions.
He was not agile enough to overtake a fast retreating
army in the dark, and was forced to abandon the pursuit.
As he turned to pursue his journey homeward, a voice
from out of the darkness, again addressed him, saying,
“don’t you only wish you could catch us,
old vinegar man?” Knowing that further pursuit
would be useless, he proceeded on his way, uttering
threats of future vengeance. He did spend a portion
of the following day in trying to find out the boys
who had insulted him; but all his efforts to that
end were without success. A gentleman to whom
he complained ventured to remark: “I fear,
Mr. Judson, that in a great measure you have yourself
to blame for all this, for you ever treat the boys
with unkindness; and, without reason and experience
to guide them, can you wonder that they render evil
for evil. If you exercised more of the spirit
of kindness in your casual intercourse with the boys,
I think it would be better for both you and them.”
This advice was very good, but it is to be feared
that the farmer profited but little by it. Through
fear of her stern husband Mrs. Judson finally ceased
to mention attending church; but often on a Sunday
afternoon, when he was either asleep or walking over
his farm, she would seat herself in a quiet corner
of the large kitchen and read her Bible, and perhaps
sing a hymn to some of the old-fashioned plaintive
airs, which formed a large portion of the Church Music
in her youthful days. I remember when I lived
at the Farmer’s, I used often to think it no
wonder that Mrs. Judson almost always sung her Sunday