Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1870-06-15

" W. hANoN Wbihnf WI ANVNNiA inuinl1pi
had marched of, leaving his wife to her long,
weary days work, darkened and made dis.
tasteful by her disappointment. She was both
grieved and angry. 1t was little thing,
perhaps, but it is the little things Of life that
delight or annoy.
Existence seemed very bare and homely to
Jane Thompson that summer day With her
love Of case, and beauty, and symmetry, how
rude, and coarse, and hard looked all her sur
roundings. 1t was only one long, monoton-
Gus round Of homely toll, unrelieved BY any
Of the little sweetness and graces that might
make even toll pleasant. She did not often
think Of it, but she remembered that day,
with the faintest little air Of regret, that she
might have been far differently situated and
as she looked up to the pretty French cot
tago on the hill, emboworcd in q perfect for
est Of bIossoming vines, caught the cool
CLEAN Of urn and fountain, something like a
sigh trombled on her lips Squire Burn
hams wife does not have to beg for q paltry
bit Of money to set out her table deccnty, p
she thought, rcbolliously.
What business had she TO marry Robert
Thompson she asked herself her slender
wrists beatng~away at the butter for the Hub.
bards. For in the green and gloomy light
that Mrs. Robert Thompson looked at things
to-day she quite forgot the fact that she had
fallen in love with the honest steady and good
looking young farmer, choosing him in prefer
eDce to Joe Burnham, whom she might have
had Joe had patrimony of his own-two
hundred a year at least-and a good bit Of
f..I L., Il a. !
" Squire" as his father had been before him.
He wanted to marry Jane Lawrence, and she
would not likes and disikes cannot be con-
trolled, and she cared more for Robert Thomp-
sons little finger than for the whole of poor,
under-sized Joe Squire Burnham found an
other wife, and Mrs Thompson, this weary
day, was furiously envying her. Mrs. Burn
ham would come with the rest of the sewing
club, too, and see the miserable shabbiness Of
the mulberry ware, and the home generally
The butter got beaten savagely at the
thought
Robert Thompson was not an unkind man
only thoughtcss. He was a type of a very
large class, more especially farmers who do
not feel the need Of iie's rugged pathway be-
ing sotfened with flowers. Absorbed in his
stock his crops, his money getting, he did not
realize how monotonous was his wile's life at
home. He had his recreations; the weekly mar
ket; gossip with hisbrother farmers politics.
she had nothing but work and care He did
not realize the truth that the worn, shabby
home told upon her that she needed some
Frightening to come to it as a yearning want
Of life And so, as the years had gone on
she grew dissatisfied at heart hardly under.
standing what she wished for or what she did
not wish the intensely unlovely, prosy, dull
life somewhat souring her spirits Now and
again, when she gave back a short or bitter
retort Robert wondered she used to be SO
swcet-tempered.
An through the long forenoon Mrs. Thomp-
son nursed her wrath Robert was selfish
and unreasonable, and she did not care who
knew it, She would not have the sewing-club
at the farm, come what might. The potatoes
got boiled the big piece of beef was simmer.
ing on the fire. Before twelve O'Clock had
well struck, she saw her husband and his two
friends coming through the orchard, with RED
and hungry faces. Mr.. Thompson alway,
wanted his dinner boiling hot and she hast.
ened to lay the cloth in the cool room off the
kitchen. Frank and Charlie, her two boys
came rushing in from school, each striving to
claim her attention. She was heated tired
and very cross.
"Why2 isn't dinner ready ?" demanded
Mr.. Thompson, not seeing it actually on the
table when he entered told you we had
no time to waste to-day he added angrily ii
his hurry and hunger. i" If | hadn't any
thing to do all the forenoon but get dinner
I'd have it ready to time, know
\ bitter retort was springing to her lips
but ere it could be spoken Charlie clamorous
ly nterposed, pushing his new copy book be-
fore her eyes.
Look, mother | am going into sentences
now, like Frank It's my first copy. The
master wrote it and he said was to get il
by heart, too, and always remember it. Dc
read it, mother
Mrs. Thompson, her arms full Of the crack
ed old mulberry plates, paused a moment tC
let her eyes fall on the new copy. A sof
answer turneth away wrath" was what sh,
read 1t was not that the proverb was new
she had read it scores Of times, but there wa
something in its appropriateness to the presen
moment that fell like cool sweet wind OIL
her heated pulses.
81 will have it ready in moment, Rob
ert," she said quietly.
Mr.. Robert Thompson looked up. Evi
IDENTIFY he had not expected so pleasant re
ply. If the truth must be told, he haC
thought good bit that morning Of his wife
request about the white ware. Not in th,
,ro,, &c oroDt,u,, - brt thot pba ,pouI1 ,,roh
ably be sulky over it when they got in Il
dinner.
1t doesn't feel here as it does in tina
blazing meadow" he remarked to his friends
as they went into the cool north room to din
ner. Folks that can keep indoors thi
weather have an easy time of it; they don
know what heat is.
Mrs. Thompson wondered whether this wa
slant at her. Her face looked scarlet enougl
for any amount of heat. As to sitting dow
with them, she had enough to do to wait OIL
the party. 1t was washing-day, and Molll
must not be called.
This butter must have been kept in tn,
kitchen; it's like OIL" said Mr., Thompson.
" took it out of the cellar since you can't
in will 60 down and get some more i
you think | had better, was the reply givel
pleasantly.
Never mind Well, declare do yor
call this meat boiled ?" went on Mr. Thomp
son, as he began to carve. " It's harder thar
a rock. If meat has to be cooked pretty
fresh this weather, it needn't be like this"
81 tried to have it nice, Robert sh'
said, striving to choke down rising sob, al
well as an angry word
Mr.. Thompson, aroused by quiyer in the
tone, looked at his wife his friends glanced
at one another. She sat down at length, but
could not eat. Mr. Thompson finished hii
dinner in silence.
lie was watching his wife's face there was
something in it he did not understand, kind
of patient, hopeless look, as if she no Longer
cared to struggle onward. The old mulberry
ware did look dingy on the snowy white table
oloth o1n,oet too ha1 for thaaa ohuuno nf hi,