Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-03-28
WI ! see EEN n q
THE STORY OF LUCY DUTTON
BY FANNY FORESTER.

BY FANNY FORESTER,
1t was an October morning, warm and sunny,
but with even its sunshine subdued into mourn
full softness, and its gorgeous drapery chastened
by touch Of the dreamy atmosphere into SYM
pathy with sorrow. And there was a sorrowing
one who needed sympathy on that still, holy
morning the sympathy of the great Heart, which
beats in Natures bosom-for she could hope no
other Poor Lucy Dutton
There was a funeral that morning. stang
er would have judged by the gathering that the
great man of the village was dead, and all that
crowd had come out to do his ashes honor-but
it was not SO. Yet the little old-fashloned church
was filled to overlooking. Some there were who
turned their eyes devoutly to the holy man thai
occupied the sacred desk, receiving from his
lips the words of life some looked upon the lit
tie coffin that stood covered with its black pal
upon table directly below him, and perhaps
thought of their own mortality, or that of thei
bright little ones; while many, very many, gaz
ed with cold curiosity at the solitary mourne
p occupying the front pew. This was younS
creature in the very springtime of life, frail
erring being, whose only hope was in Him whC
said, "Neither do condemn thee-go, and sill
no more There was a weight of shame upol
her head, and wo upon her heart, that, together
made the poor bereaved young mother cover al
most to the earth before the prying eyes tina
came to look upon her in her distressing humili
alton. Oh it was ptiful sight, that crushed
@ helpless creatures agony.
But the year before, and this same lone mourn
er was considered sweet, beautiful child, whom
every body was bound to protect and love be
cause, but that she was the pet lamb of a doat
ing old woman, she was without friend and pro
tector Lucy Dutton was the last blossom upol
tree which had boosted many fair ones. Whel
the grave opened to one after another of tina
doomed family till none but this bright, beauti
full bud was left, she became the all in ALL am
with the doating affection of age was she cherish
ed When poverty came to Granny Dutton'
Threshold, she drew her one priceless jewel t
her heart, and Iaug hed at poverty When sol
rows of every kind comprised her about an
the sun went down in her heaven of hope, an
other rose in holier heaven of love /; an
Lucy Dutton was this fountain of love born ligh
The old lady and her pretty darling occupied
small, neat cottage at the foot of the hill, with
garden attached to it, in which the child fitte
all day long, like glad spirit among the flow
ers. And next to her chiId-idol, the simple
hearted old lady loved those flowers, with Low
which pure natures ever bear to the beautiful.
was by these, and the fruit produced by the Ii
tie garden, that the twain lived. Many fiji
carriage drew up before the door Of the humFl
cottage, and brightlades and dashing gentleme
sauntered beneath the shade, while the rosy fir
gers of Lucy adjusted bouquets for them he
bright lips wreathed with smiles, and her sum
eye turning to her grandmother at the pIacin
ofeyery stem, astthough for appreciation Of he
taste Not child all the neighborhood W;
sohappy as Lucy not child in all the neigl