Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-04-05
THE sTORY. OF LUCy'.

Last week, in neighboring city, sud-
den end came to little domestic drama, |
for which we purpose to make room here. |
We believe its meaning bears more nearly |
on the lives of large class of our readers |
than even the national debt or the choice of |
our next President.
About twenty years ago, girl-baby was
born to a carpenter and wife, who had five
boys already swarmng and squabbling a
| bout the threc-ro house. The baby
| shared the fate of solitary girls among
brothers. She was the something rare and
unwonted, which had never come into their
| common life before she was the bit of por-
celain among rough crockery; her father
and bigger boys dubbed her "little Lady,
carried her out proudly on Sunday after
rooms, when their clothes were coarse and
| patched enough, but she never lacked
| bit of embroidery feather in her cap.
| She, unlike myriads of other children, was
| born to no memorable inheritance of pow
crty or dirt or crime. The carpenter was
working, honest, domestic old man,
whose highest ambition was to give each of
! his boys steady trade, ''that they might
| never nctu 10 Jake 10 sllltN ways W edi u IL
meal" For Lucy, of course, he hoped for
something better. His wife was thrifty,
| Scotch IriShwoman, who had lived in one
| house at service for fifteen years before her
marriage, and could command high sal
airy now at any time as houskeeper. "Girls
| in the old country" she said, "were set to
work rom the time they could walk. They
| did not need to drudge so here. There
were chances for them in FREQ country"
| She never passed a rich mans daughter,
| delicately dressed that she did not think
of these "chances !" chances that number
ed not only easy living and refinement, but
equipages, velvets, diamonds. Education
placed all men on level. Her mothers
heart was sore and tender Why should
| not her little girl enter in that high I'M
| known world of luxury from which she
had been shut out? God had made no
| life so full of blessings that it ought not to
be possible to Lucy with her loving blue
eyes and wonderful bright hair. 1t was
quite true that God had made no life of
happy womanhood which was net possible
to the child. She had practical, humble
intellect, was frank, earnest, aiiectonatc,
delicate nature and tender conscience, be-
fitting TO a servant as TO a queen, both of
them being Gods children. One would
have said the girl was born to be in time a
pure maiden, a loving wife, faithful
mother.
She went to school years after her broth
ers went to work, but learned little more
than to read and write whatever ability
she had assuredly did not lie in the path of
book knowledge; the boys bought her a
cheap piano at auction, on which she strum-
med a few street airs. People who noticed
: the girls readiness and winning manner,
? told her mother ii was time she was max
ing some provision for her and offered to
, take her into their houses as servant. But
mental work was certainty which TO Lu-
cys vague chances was an insult. Even
D drudgery at home was spared her that she
y might run with her school companions, or
read the cheap papers of tie day. Gradual
~ the fine delicacy faded out of her face
her voice grew loud the quick step drag
ged lazily; it became matter Of course for
her to watch her old father work for her
while she sat idle. At last the turn came
the elder brothers married the old man
, and his wife died Il deformed brother
kept the house with Lucy, but it was nee
essary that she should earn her own living.
! There wee half dozen homes open to
her, where she would have had light work
which would have fitted her for her duties
when she married, high wages and the pro-
lection and seclusion of Il refined Christian
q family. But this girl, whose Master was
born in stable, was indignant at being
> asked TO take the place of a servant. She
a went into a mill The wages we good.
She had her ambition. Vclvets and dia-
monds made the lady. She could at least
e flaunt in Terry and Milton gold. She had
the Imagination of other young girls-the
zest for love, adventure. No knights or
gentlemen came about the mill, or lovers
to the house, but there was the chance COM
pliment from young men on the streets,
the encounter on the street carsgoing home
at night.
: The story is told. There came a day
when the deformcd brother who had
watched over her since she was a baby
with a sorer tenderness because no other
woman could ever be near or dear to linn,
cursed her and drove her from the door.
: She went gladly. The street life suited
her now for the change in the girl did
1 not begin in dress, or face, or voice II
worked out from within. Year by year
her training had corrupted soul and brain
G 1t mattered little when the symptoms o
: decay showed themselves to the world
u For years she had tested the street life
d Last week it ended. In the bright sunligh
II a bloated, filthy woman crept out of thu
) prison van into the stone archways of thu
i city prison, and the iron gates with the
u heavy clang shut on her, not to open 70
y two years. "Lucy sentenced 70
y grand larceny"
Whether, when they open, her ruinet
.. body will be there TO drag itself out int
" the sunlight again, matters little. 1t ma.
y live until old age. But Lucy, honest, un
" selfish, pure in thought, died long ago.
y 1t had been only to sleep with her mothe
3 on yonder hillside, we might have mad
~ the grass green above her, knowing tina
:, the child would come again. But she, still
10 living, went down into grave from whic
80 there is no place of resurrection, thong
: we seek il carefully and with tears. PEI
haps 1t is story without a moral at leas
: 1t has none, if mothers do not find il fo
~ themselves.-M y. Tribune.
"
N | A faal or M N