The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1871-01-17
Mrs. ThompsOn's White-W are
A H0MELY TALE.

Mrs. Thompson stood by the kitchen
table pairing potatoes for dinner. Some
thing was evidently wrong with the lttl,
lady, for there was an unmistakeable all
of ''spite" in the way she tossed the po
tatoes into the pan of cool spring water
waiting there to receive them. 1t was
sultry weather; and through the open
window came the sound of mowers whet.
ting their scythes, blended with the cal
of the robin, and the faint notes of the
cuckoo in the shaded wood. But it only
irrtated Mrs. Thompson indeed, every
thing irritated her that day. Looking
out from the back door, might be seen a
lovely landscape, with broad reaches OF
meadow-land, fringed with graceful belts
of birch and softly-rounded mountains
lifting their velvety foreheads to the
white, aeecy clouds, that went slowly
sailing across the exquisite ether, like
huge drifts of thistle-down. But this al
so irritated her; everything could be
beautiful save her life, and that was cold
and rude, and barren. At least, Mrs.
Thompson,n the plenitude Of her present
unsatisfactory mood, was telling herself
that it was.
TO begin at the beginning. Jane Law.
renee had been an unusually romantic
girl, and had gone for two years to a
boarding-school She had always fancied
that she would marry some famous artist
or scholar, who would take her to Rome,
and Na"i-., -"Lo-~ rho mtgut ilve III
perpetual dream of beauty. She so loved
beautiful things Perhaps all women
do; and that may be the reason so many
are found ready to barter love for gold.
But, contrary to all her preconceived
notions, she married Robert Thompson, a
plain, practical farmer; and, instead Of
touring it in Italy, she went to live at
the old homestead, which had been
the abode of the Thompsons for genera
tions Dreams and reality are so very
different, you see.
Robert Thompson was working far
mer as well as practical man, and all
his people worked. His mother had work.
ed in her day, his sisters had worked, he
expected his wife to work. She took to
it gleefully. She had not been brought
up with high notions, by any means, and
at first the work did not seem so much.
But every experienced lady knows how
the labor seems to accumulate in plain
farmers household, as the years after
marriage go on. There were plenty of
men and boys about, but only one woman
servant was kept,and Mrs. Robert Thomp-
son grew to find she helped at nearly eve-
rything, save, perhaps, the very toughest
Of the labor. la place of lounging in ell
egant foreign studios, or gliding down
famed canals and streams in picturesque
gondoas, she had butter and cheese to
make and poultry to rear, and dinners to
cook in the long, low-sealed Kitchen, and
the thousand and one cares upon her
shoulders that make up busy house
hold Quite contrast, as must be adj
mitted.
With things a little different, she d not
have minded the work so much, could she
have had nice carpets and tasteful furni-
ture, and books, and picture or two, and
flowers. The home was so very hard and
practical, and its surroundings were get
ting so shabby. At first she had not no.
ticed this, or cared for it; but every
year, AS the years went on, made matters
look dingier Old Mrs Thompson had
not cared to be smart and nice; Robert
never thought about it. And what thought
he had Pit is only natural for men to
assume that what had done for mother
would do for wife.
In time, Mrs. Robert Thompson began
to ask that some renovation should take
place, at which Robert only stared ;
the house that had done so long without
painting, could do yet, and the old things
in it were good enough for them. She
did not venture to urge the point but she
she did press for some flowers. There was
Il strip of ground under the south parlor
windows where shrub Of sweet-brier
grew, and pinks, sweet-williams, and
marigolds blossOmed in their season. But
they were old-fashioned, common flowers
and she pined for the rare and elegant
plants she had seen in conservatories and
public gardeus. But Robert Thompson
woad as soon have thought of buying the
moon, as such useless things as flowers
The garden like himself, was all practical
filled with cabbages, onions, potatoes, and
sweet herbs. And so went on her UNI
lovely existence, in which dissatisfaction
was becomming nightmare.
Now and again, on those somewhat
rare occasions, when she went out to visit
her neighbors, and saw how pretty many
Of them had things, she came home more
than ever out Of heart. The worst was
Tor the best there was no real reason why
a little money should not be spent in
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