Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1872-09-03

81 am not gypsy tell no fortunes; know
them not, only God knows. | make baskets
they are not handsome, but good, strong"
1t is St. Lucille who says this, standing at
my back door one sunny August afternoon; a
tiny woman, who might as well have said g'm
not q fairy or a browie;" but / saw at once
that she had been rudely driven from some doors
as gypsy fortune teller, and in a nervous, sens
sltve way sought at tile very outset to shield
herself from similar Misunderstanding.
Poor little Lucllei she wasn't one of the
grand, heroic saints who stand up brave and
bright, clothed with a glorious strength. Tn
der her unGOuth Shaker bonnet, twice too large
for the small head it covers, you sec thin,
brown face and smooth, gray hair, parted over
a wrinked forehead; her little brown hands,
small enough for a child of ten years, tremble
with the weight Of her basket; by virtue of her
tiny stature and shrinking ways she is child /;
in view OF sixty years of endurance, of labor, of
answering faith and patience, she is woman
and saint.
Her broken speech, as well as her graceful
manners and tile nervous gesture of her little
brown hands, mark her as French Canadian
"What is the price Of this basket2"
Fifty cents; but if you like notstosgive me
fifty, give me forty, or whatever the lady please,
for have been out all day. and sold not one |:
or, If yon give me some old bed quilt for a bas-
ket, thank you. not beg; only the lazy BEG;
but winter will come very codj my husband
ten years sick with rheuD1atism he so cold, he
no meat at all on his bones, no meat at all, .
pinching up, as she spoke, the scanty flesh of
her own fragile little hand. "In the winter he
Grassy with cold and pain" No wonder, then,
that in the burning August afternoon she was
SO beenly alive to the miseries Of winter.
"And what supports you through all this
sickness and trouble1"
There was little upward gesture of rever-
ence, and the answer came; misinterpretinE my
use OF the word support, but shaming my want
of trust.
"Ihe Lord, he supports us"
Then | ventured TO ask--shall dare call it a
more practical question, for what so practical
as the inquiry whence comes the inspiration
that carries us through every difficulty, and fur
nishes us daily the very breath of life, mot its
breadP But how do you get food and cloth
ing" And then l noticed the little old fash
l0ned wooden cape, twenty years old if it was a
day, pinned across her breast, and the mite of a
checked apron that covered her faded dress
81 make baskets, was the answer. every
one that has not sickness can work, )" (this with
the quiet dignity OF princess).
When had searched my store Of bedding,
and, feeling less sure of cold winter than she
did, found warm coverid that could be spared,
| hardly dared to ask her acceptance of it, mas
much as she was $50 strong and could work y
and it is "only thealazy who beg" But love-
ly look of surprise lighted up the withered face
as | offered it, and she only said, "Ihe Lord did
direct you, he did direct you;" and, rising to 60
she suddenly took my hand and kissed it. In
a minute more she was gone. The fence at the
head of the yard completely concealed her small
figure, and stood at the door with tears in my
eyes; they come back now at the thought of her
not New England woman, whose work is al
most her God, and whose down-lying and up
rising are but parts of the plan whereby she is
to accomplish SO much cooking and scrubbing
and washing and ironing; but little fragile,
light-hearted body, made for a butterfly, but
forced to tear off her wings and become an ant /;
and turning the light of her natural gayety into
a holy glow that served to keep this dark life
bright.
| cannot forget her; among these winter
storms see a picture that is not painful, al
though it shows poverty, suffering, WEAKNESS,
and cold, for there is grace, good cheer, an
unconscious heroism about it,-litte Lucille,
earning all unwittingly her crown of glory
''Ljues Of the Saints" in Old and Ne0.