Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1838-09-14
PASSAGE IN HUMAN LIFE.
by W NJ. HowITT

I'm II LIE ~.
BY NJ. HowITT.
In my daily walks into the country, |
was accustomed 10 pass a certain collage
1t was no cottage o%rne--it was no cottage of
romance. 1t had nothing particularly pic
turesque about it. 1t had its liuIe garden,
and It's vine spreading over its front but,
beyond these, it possessed no feature to fix
II in the mind of the poet, or a novel writer,
and which might induce him to p eoplc ii
with beings Of his own fancy. In fact il APP
peared to be inhabited by persons as little ex-
traordinary as itself A good man of the
house il might possess, but he was never Wis
ible. The only inmates that | ever saw,
were a young woman, and another female
in the wane Of life, no doubt the mother.
The damsel was a comely, fresh, mild
looking cottage girl enough-always seat
ed IN one spot-near the window, intent on
her needle. The old dame was as regular
ly busted, 10 and fro, in household affairs
She appeared one of those good housewives,
who never dream Of rest except in sleep
The cottage stood so near the road, that the
hire at the farther end Of the room, showed
You, without being rudely inquisitive. the
whole interior, in the single moment of pass.
ing.
A clean hearth and a cheerful fire. shin
ing upon homely, but neat and orderly fur
%niture, spoke of comfort but whether the
dame enjoyed or merely dihused that COM
fort, was a problem.
passed the house many successive days.
1t was always alike, the fire shining bright
y and peacefully-the girl seated at her
post by the window-lhe housewife going
TO and lro, catering and contrlvlng, dustlng
and managing.
One morning as | went by, there was a
change, the dame was sented near her daugh-
ter, her arms laid upon the table, and her
head upon her arms. was sure that il
was sickness which had compelled her to
that attitude OF repose-nothlng less could
have done it. | felt that | knew exactly the
poor woman's feelings. She had fel; a wea-
rlness stealing upon her-she had wonder
ed at ii, and bore up hoping it would pass
by-till, 10th as she was 10 yield, il had for
ced submission.
The next day, when | passed, the room
appeared as nsual-ihe fire burning pleas
antly the girl at her needle, but the mother
was not to be seen; and on glancing my
eye upward, l perceived the blind close
uidNu III tuc WlnuOW uDONe. IL is so, /
said TO myself, disease is in its progress
Perhaps it occasions no gloomy fear Of
consequences, no extreme concern-and yet,
who knows how it may end2 1t is thus
that begin those changes that draw out the
central bolt, which holds together families
which steal away our freside faces. and lay
waste our affections.
passed by, day after day. The scene
was the same-the fire burning, the hearth
beaming, clean and cheerful, but the mother
was not 10 be seen the blind was still
drawn above.
AT length | missed the girl-and in her
place appeared another woman bearing
considerable resemblance to the mother, but
of a quieter habit. 1t was easy to interpret
THIS change; disease had assumed an a.
farming aspect-the daughter was occupied
in intense watchings,a and fearing for the suE-
fering mother-and the good woman's sister
had been summoned TO her bedside, per-
haps from a distant spot, and perhaps from
her family cares which no less important
event could have induced her to elude.
Thus appearances continued some days.
There was a silence around the house, and
an air of neglect within it till, one morn
ing. beheld the blind drawn il the room
BELOW and the window thrown open ABOVE.
The scene was over-the mother was re-
moved rom her family, and one of those
great changes effected in human life, which
commence with so liule observation, but
leave behind such lasting effects.