The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1860-09-07
Be Kind to Strangers.

SonAnoh Si'AIty " Cdii VII sneW oho 6A'S
them cordial greeting. In large cities peo-
pie may live for years in utter ignorance of
their next door neighbors, but IN the coun-
try nature is stronger than fashions arbitra-
ry laws. The Ohio Farmer has good story
llustr ating the value of the smallest atten-
tions to one who has sense of desolation in
a strange house:
The next morning, after taking possession
Of "our own hired house" in Carbondale, l a.
rose rather dispirited, half inclined to the
blues, and did not see any way in particular
to rub off the dolorous color. Everything
was at skies and sevens-boxes and bureaus
and barrels and bedsteads stood around in
ghastly and gaunt array; while cases, cup
boards, chairs, and carpets made confusion
worse confounded. Everything was wanted
and nothing to be found, and yet everything
was exactly in the way. The rooms of the
house were in the best possible condition to
fret ones nerves into tremor, and tine ell
bows began to twingle with excitement as
creased floors, stained glass, and windows
made without paint, broken and bedaubed
and plastering that nothing but paper would
render decent. The sight was anything but
refreshing, although at another time l might
have smiled at the dogs and horses on the
wall (not made by Rosa Bonheur)t that looked
complacently down upon me in all the CORY
of red keel and charcoal
was stranger in a strange land. l now
doubt if Joseph when his brethren sold him
into Egypt, felt more strongly depressed
The tired family did not rise as early as usu
al, so had the gloom all to myself.
Did the sun rise that mornings 1t might
have penetrated those uncurtained windows.
But it did not send a beam down into these
gloomy depths where lay the hangings for
the old home and its roses and honeysuckles.
Did the sky glow with the upspringinS NOR
ming? 1t might, for there was not visible
cloud in all the visible sky. But there were
shadows, shadows, shadows everywhere
They fell OH the doors. on the wall, on the
stairway, in every nook and Granny, and the
ghosts of treasured memories seemed to
mock me. lifting about among band-boxes
and bundles and sbbering at me with saucy
-tauntng tongues.
sailed out into my new kitchen-un-
painted, upholstered, unlathed, unsealed.--
Oh, how desolate l dropped down on a
box, covered my face with my apron, and was
just going TO do-as silly women are apt to
do won't tall what
Rap, rap, rap, came at the door. wiped
my eyes, smoothed out my apron and opened
it, expecting to meet Poe's v:sitor-a stately
ghost or raven
"Only this and nothing more
But there stood beautiful child. boy of
some six or eight summers. radiant as May
morning, and in his hand small bouquet of
spring roses.
"Nly mother sent these to you," said he in
a soft-toned voice, looking up brightly into
my eyes.
Indeed" exclaimed as l took them from
his chubby fist, "and where does your moth
er live ."
"Over there" was the laconic answer, as
he pointed with his finger to cottage among
the trees.
"Oh, thank you, my little man, and tell
your mother thank her more than l Ican tell
for love the flowers" was my answer, as
he turned and bounded away.
held the beautiful things in my hand and
looked into their eyes, and they seemed to
find tongues to talk to me and comfort me.
They told me Of kind and genial heart near
by that knew of stranger, and sent this
message of love and good cheer, to lift the
veil from her eyes and speak hope to the
sinking spirit and there came glow from
the center and spread out over all the earth.
l looked up, and the sunlight gilded the for
est the house tops,the church spire, the dus
ty railroad track and the brown, bare fields.
The rooms were changed the broken plas-
tering and bare walls were blooming with
fresh roses. clasped them in my hands,
and pressed them to my lips, and drops Of
gratitude fell into their pure corollas, as l
flew with them to the children, crying,
"See-we are not alone"
There was one heart in the neighborhood,
at least, that knew the feelings of a stranger.
There was one that knew there was gloom
even at sunrise on a May morning, in
strange land, in new home, and she had
sent flowers, the most beautiful and cheerful
of all Gods handiwork of the forest or wood
and by the hand Of little child, type of the
kingdom of heaven" to link the past with
the present, and to gid with brightness the
portals of the future with hope and light
Heaven bless her for that thought, she had
swept away in a moment the clouds Of doubt
and sadness.
Who, but a woman, gentle and loving,
could have thought of such delicate compli-
ment ? In the depths Of her own soul she
knew my need, and answered to it.
went back to my duty. Day follows day
and night answereth to night, and no such
gloomy hour has since come to drape the