Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1868-01-08

Then he went down the long stairs, and walked
slowly homeward He had groped IN the dark
for thirty years, and this old woman had given
him his first living revelation
After that he kept his eye upon her Every
morning and evening he passed her stand on the
Common, and he never went by without saying
cheerful word, or pausing to ask after her sick
daughter and children.
d" The children is well, thank you, sir, and
Eliza is as well as could be expected was her
almost invariable answer. But one sultry day in
August she said She scenes TO be sinking fast.
sir. Way mp where we live we don't get none but
hot air and the don't come in till into the ai-
ternoon. Pears to me need sunshine much
as the plants and the flowers
The next day the gentleman went home earlier
than usual, and as he came near the old woman's
stand, he caught sight Of the invalid daughter,
seated in hand-wagon, propped up pillow. and
shaded by the big umbrella The attention Of
the old woman was cngrossed by juvenile custo-
mer but the daughter noticed his approach, and
called to him as he made as If he would 50 by
without speaking.
'' Sir sir, she said, "please TO stop, ] want
you to see. shall soon be well for now | can
go ont every day in fine weather.
" And who got you down stairs, and upon the
Common n
/ "The man that lives ON the lower hoor-he
carried me down; and Tommy drawed me here
before school time"
:" And tcho sent us the wagon p asked the old
woman, her ugly face lighting up with the smile
that. TO this man, always made it handsome.
The Lord, suppose All good things come
from him; and this seems to be good wagon,
answered the gentleman, taking the vehicle 10y the
wheel and shaking it as If TO test its quality
The old woman looked at him for a moment,
without word. Then she SAID, +. Ihe Lord viii
say to them his right hand, "Ye did it unto
me- inasmuch as ye did it unto one Of these, my
poor children
d hp man turned and walked AWAY N his a
tear and IN ms soul another revelation. lie had
learned the whole of rehgon--iath and good
works--at the cost OF carrying an old womans
basket, and buying for her daughter a cheap hand
wagon.
I Every pleasant day for a month after this, he
found the sick woman seated there in the wagon
under the old umbrella. She always had smile
for him. and he always fingered a while to get
that smile an a little Of the old woman's sunshine.
But one morning he went by, and found there
neither the apple-stand nor the hand-wagon. 1t
was to1 when he again went by at evening;
and then, without going home, he made his way
/ to the home of the old woman. Softly opening
/ the door, he entered the dingy apartment. few
rays from the setting came through the open
window, aud by the dim ight he saw the old wo-
man and the two children kneellng by the low
bed ia the corner. She was holding the hand of
the Young woman, who lay with her eyes upturned
to the fading sky, as if looking in the clouds for
some one coming. He had come, the Great An
gel, and he had already taken her to the bosom of
the All-Fathcr
/ For several years after this the old woman's life
rppled along as smoothly as gentle stream flow
/ ing on over a sandy bed to the great ocean. The
old umbrella got many patch, the new bonnet
grew old, and the black silk gown that she first
wore at her daughters funeral was turned and re-
turned to fit it to appear on Sundays; but she
never begged and never borrowed, and the winter
was never so hard but she had enough ready mon
I.tt bni
saen
Little 10y little the young lads and hungry low
ers who frequented the Common came to know
her; and though many rival aPple-stand from
time to time disputed her right to monopolize the
trade in stomach-ache, they soon had TO eat their
own candy, and to fold their tents like the Arabs
and silently steal away"
One day the gentleman who had learned OF her
his first lesson of Christianity, passing her stand
noticed some new flags OF truce floating from her
lpipplns. 90 Who wrote these Aunt Betsey Z" he
asked, pauslng to look at the placards.
"Oh, Tommy did them, sir. He's amazing
smart at such shngs. lie can write like any
school-master
And how old is he nowr'
Going on fifteen; and I'm thinking, sir, it's
about time he was doing something. might sup
port him some longer, but he's larned all he can
out OF college.
What does he take 20
"Nell, he wants to be merchant. | suppose
he got a-hankerln' arter 1t from my bein' IN the
business; but there's world OF wlckedness be-
tween buyin' and sellin'. Don't ye think he'd bet
ter be a lawyerg
"A lawyer! There's not an honest lawyer hv-
ing. Let him be a merchant. Send him down to
my countihg-room tomorrow"
Tommy went, and so became underclerk IN a
large commercial house on Central Wharf
When he drew his first months pay he brought
It home, and pouring II all into ms grandmother
lap. threw his arms about her neck and SAID =
Now, grandmother, you shall smut up shop.
won't have no more OF your selling apples
But the Old woman was not 50 easily lured from
the ' walks OF commerce She did not = shut up
: shop" She stlll kept her stand on the Common
but IN summer she staid at home on RAINY days
and IN winter laid by like the frogs, doing neither
washing or sewing
! 50 three years went away, and then Fort Sump-
ter fell and President Lincoln called for seventy
five thousand volunteers to suppress the rebellion
When Tommy went home that night with the news
his grandmother was thoughtiul ior time then,
looking IN his face, she sad =" Tommy, had II I
you ought to do something Tor the country =
You mean ought to volunteer SAID Tom
my
Yes II MIR. Speegie IS Wiling.
Mr. Speegle was willing and so, soon after
ward, queer scene was witnessed on the Com
mon The whole parade-grouhd was IN commo-
tion. regiment, which had been under review
was marching ont OF one OF the gateways' and the
old woman, perched on her three-iegged stool,
was wildly waving her umbrella, and at the top OF