Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1866-02-28

JEROME PENwICK'S CURE.
BY LUCY A. RANEALL.

Don't 60 out tonight, Jerome-stay
with me ! Oh, Jerome it is so lonely
when you are away y
The little kitchen mad been swept and
secured every board glistened like polish
ed ivory---the red moreen curtains were
drawn over the tiny-paned windows, and
the great chestnut logs in the fireplace
we're singing and simmcring and bursting
into scarlet sheets of fame, with capri
cious alterations. There were no costly
fresco on the walls-mcrely cheap paper
where gigantic pink roses burst into un-
accountable bloom among the green ten
drills Of a stiff pea vine; hut the wooden
clock was framed in the coral berries of
the bittcrsweet. and little Christmas
cross of hcmlock sprigs and black ivy. yet
hung between the two windows. while Ro-
81 Fcnw,ck's monthly roses and scented
geraniums TOSSED their delicate blossoms
among the rel pepers and lunches of pen
eroyal and catn,p on the smoke Drowned
mantle above the chimney.
For Rosa. our heroine, was nothing
more digniied than farmers wife Ay.
hut farmers wife. in this our Empire
State. is it must be remembered, queen
consort to member of the popular SOW
ereighty-aDd Rosa was fit to wear the
the royal robes as any princess of the
blood She was quite tall. with pale.
brown hair. and eyes of the clear vivid
blue that put you in mind of sunshine
after rain, while the delicate color on her
cheek fairly rlvaled the monthly roses
above. Her dress was very plain and
simple-dark brown calico. ruffled at the
wrists aud relieved by narrow linen
collar. with'a tiny black silk apron tied
trinity around her gaaceful waist.
jerome Fenwick, tall, stalwart young
fellyw of some seven or eight and twenty,
bit his lip, as Rosa still kept urging:
"Stay with me this evening only this
once -
Nonsense, Rosa; how ridiculous you
are! A man can't stay at home forever :"
But you were out last night and the
night before"
well. what then? Now my love,
don't you see how very absurd it is to
expect me to be always dangling at your
apron strings! tell you I'm only 60.
ing down TO the Columbian, TO look at
the papers and ,alk over the news !"
"Io the Columbian!' echoed Aunt
Tryphosa Fenwick. suddenly appearing
out of the subteranian debths Of trap
door. very much Ia ghost upon the stage.
only that she bore pan of glossy red
apples in one hand and brandished a
formidable knife IN the other. "Ah-h.b!
you're going to the Columbian, be ", Je-
rome Fenwick p
"Yes, | am-and what then ?" return.
ed the young man, spice of sullen def
ance beginning to mingle with the play
full tone he had assumed towards his wife.
"And s'pose you're comin' back stu
pider nor IA fool, as you come last night
or perhaps you're comm with Peter Stry-
ker at your head and Sam Carney ut your
heels, as you come last week; pretty do
in's these, for feiler that hain't been
married year yet !"
dear Jerome" pleaded Rosa, looking
up through sparkling tears, please do
not 90 out tonight"
"What dye s'pose your coming to-"
went on Aunt Tryphosa, digging away at
the apples us sfitefully as If every one
had been a modern Marsyus, and spec
tacled Apollo; "props you vc forgot how
Pardon pilk,ngham froze to death, year
ago come February. down by the hemIock
holler. with the snow two feet deep on
the ground He'd been to the Columbi-
an. too He'd read the papers and Talked
over the news And mebbc you don't re.
nnmh hnu Ina1ah unnkina off In 6aLc.