Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-09-05
The Leisure Hour.
EDETM.
A STORY OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE.

The doctor opened the trim gate which
gave exit from his little peasaunce, and
we passed out into the main street of the
village, bright and clean and quiet in the
June morning. Spreading branches of
horse chestnut trees made pleasant screen
above our heads, while fickering mosaic
of sunlight and shadow paved the sidewalk.
Across the road we noted not unpctur-
esque group-two or three matrons in
morning deshabille chafleriDg with the
white-robed attendant of butchers cart.
In the open doorway of neighboring
drug store, lstless young man summed
himself with an air of utter apathy. A be-
lated schoolgirl, swinging her strapped-up
books, passed us with hurrying steps.
"The place." said the doctor, .'is ridicu-
lousy healthy. If I depended altogether
on my professional income"- He paused
abruptly, and I saw faint flush color his
cheek, as he greeted lady who issu-
ed from the door and descended the steps
of the house we were passing. A tall and
graceful lady, gray-robed, daintily gloved,
earnest and thoughtful in face, swift and
purposeful in movement and gesture.
"Miss Edith Winthrop" said my COM
panion, in answer to my unspoken inqui-
ry; "blue- blooded, according to the New
England standard of Puritan stock"
l watched keenly the countenance of my
friend, for, reticent as he was, both by ma
ture and professional habit, it was seldom
that the trained immobility of that face dis
played even such a passing show of emo
ton as that I had witnessed.
Neither of us spoke again, however, as
we turned into side street, which, as we
followed it up degenerated into grassy cart
tracks. Human habitations we had left be-
hind us with the graveled road the cot
tage gardens with their white trellses COW
cred with honeysuckles and prairie-rose
were replaced by pasture ground brighten
ed by the bloom of buttercups, while scat
tered savin bushes indicated our nearness
to the "woods.'
"At last" said the doctor, "we have
reached Pine Hill. This has always been
favorite resort for picnic parties. 1t is
charming spot.'
lie paused moment, and then said alb
ruptly, "Come, l see your mind is made
the one / have in my mind"
"Kindest of friends have not forgot
ten your old talent as raconteur, and
await your narrative with the keenest in
terest because see that your old self will
be one Of tho personages concerned in it,"
"Not so Immediately concerned as you
think. This is love story, or rather a
mere hint or suggestion of love story,
and not altogether devoid of the tragic ele-
ment; and what can prosac country doc
tor have TO do with love or tragedy save to
fill spectators part? ?"
So my friend told me the tale he had pt om-
ised one which haunted mo for many
day, until at last was fain to try and re-
| produce it in written words:-
You saw her to-day-Edith Winthrop
| but you would never recognize in her the
| bright beauty who was the queen of the fes-
| tival held here thirteen years ago o-day.
Our young people agreed that year to
choose May queen, and celebrate the
coming of summer in the old English
style. Lyceum lectures, reading club and
singing school must stand over till another
winter. Warm weather was here, and
since there were no evenings, our young
men must for one day give up their vari-
Gus avoca;ions and trample under foot the
universal Yankee idea that no time which
is available for work must be wasted in
play. So, in solemn council, decreed the
girls.
To be sure it was June, not May; but
how was ii possible to have an out-ol-door
party when you had to have fire to keep
warm within doors? No; June was early
enough; but, May, or June, we must have
our queen and our Maypole, and revive for
once beneath distant sky all the gay OBJ
servances our fathers delighted in. So said
fair Edith, leader Of last years graduating
class at the seminary, well read in Englisl
classics, and proud of her authenticated
English ancestry.