Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-03-21
"Wbat do you care about 1t for ?"

"She is woman, grandma and poor
woman unlocks the innermost door OF my
heart"
"You writing folks are queer ones" said
grandma "but if you are set on hearing
milk first"
We took up the paper again, but news
| from Europe or "n,ws In brief" did not
attract us. Through political reports and
foreign intelligence, the echo of the call
| fingers in our ears.
Thirza-why had we not looked In her
face9 Was she young and beautiful {?
Grandma called her "poor girl" but grand
mas snowy locks were nearing three score
and ten, and fifty seemed young 10 her.
What had been this Thilza's sorrow? How
came she with that musical voice? The
voice told of culture in two words-and
what had such woman to do with
"chores ?" Had she been educated above
her neighbors, lifted up beyond her sur
roundngs? or was she one of those sweet
scented wood vioets one SO loves to find?
This interest in an nj ter stranger was too
uncommon to pass without remark. No
"'hbSi 'hO Oiu idNH NuOuBhl II HuttIs
We walked up and down the piazza, wait
ing for grandma to begin her story "but
straining the milk" often proved tedious
process, especially when the farm hands
stood in the doorway Of the milk room, or
lounged upon the steps talking lhe crops
or weather.
Our walk. was ended, for the night air
grew chill. Grandma was preparing for
bed, unmindful of her promise. So we
lounged in our room, listening to the ever
precious song OF the river, and dreamed of
Thirza.
With the song of the birds. the usual
farm yard chorus, and the brightness of
early morning, we left our bed, just as a
sweet voice under our window said. "good
morning." There was no mistakipg il:
the same had uttered the call on the night
previous; and all ideas of bath and dress
ing vanished. as we leaned from the window
to catch glimpse of its owner.
Standing before our front door we saw
tall, graceful woman, with an old fashion,
ed sun-bonnet on her head, and her arms
full of small squares, made of straw, the
beginning, as we had already learned, of
numerous palm-leaf hats. The woman
played with the straws which projected in
all directions, as she talked with her
friends.
"Made all those last night, Thirza?"
"Yes, my patient was quiet, and work
keeps one awake. Good morning, must
cross over and get break fast"
Again the well modulated voice and the
well bred air. Why did she look down so
persistently? We had not seen the face
hid by the ugly bonnet, we only caught
one glimpse of the pretty rounded chin,
and some pearly teeth-but woman, bon
net, teeth, and Thirza won't down the dewy
road, with the boy who had the boat key.
Poor ThrZa, we said so. She passed
from sight, tired fingers, weary brain,
and breakfast that must be. Who knows
how many heart aches she has woven into
those bits of braid? She is crossing the
river now. and reaches the other shore in
safety, up the steep banks sIc is toiIing,
but there is neither peace or rest for her.
There will come a time TO you, oh. wo-
man, brave of heart, and strong in well
doing, when you shall cross the last river
and find awaiting you welcome such as
"eye hath not seen, or eIr heard"
1t was almost break fast time, when we
at last descended, and as we fingered over
our coffee the spirit of chatliness fell upon
grandma, and the promised story was ours.
~ must not dress 1t up with fine words,
for 1t is not my way, child, but in home
ly way, can tell you, and you can laugh
at my green specs, or weep over the story
for my part, can't keep the tears back
when ] think oil her sunny face as knew
her. and think of her now.
"You see, Thrza was an only child, her
folks were comfortable well to do farmers,
and sent her off TO school when she was
young. She was always smart from little
chit, and always handsome. AT fifteen she
seemed as much woman as most girls of
twenty-three. She came home from school
then TO ind her father dying slowly with
cancer and her mother nearly heart broken.
couldn't begin to tell You how that girl
worked; she did every thing-looked afler
the farm, nursed her father made two or
three trips to NewYork with him to have
operations performed, cheered her mother,
and frightened up the whole house with
herself and her songs
Her father died in year, and then her
mother followed in three months Thirza
had the old home and few thousand. for
much of the money went 10 the doctors
She taught our school that summer and
and run the farm, besides keeping on in
her studies she had learned at school.
"The fellows far and near were crazy
over her; some liked her beauty, others
wanted her money, and one poor young fell
low who worshpped her for herself car
ried off the prize. He did not want her
money he said, and think he proved It.
for most of it was in stocks which were
worthless, but he loved her all the same.
She had a few hundreds left, and with this
they rented a better farm aud stock ed il.
selling the old one for enough to help them
get fair start. Together they worked. but
somehow the brunt of 1t fell on Thirza, and
In three years he was an invalid on her
hands; all his folks died of consumption.
the old-tashioued, lingering kind, and he
was took in the same way.
'Their only child, a boy, was born the
second year, and be was the delight of both
The father never earned a penny after the
first three years; he walked about the
place, petted the boy, found fault with the
farm hands, and grew frettul and It evish.
"Thirza did not seem to mind it; she
was always gentle to him, and sometimes
at night have seen her rocking Johnny TO
sleep, with her chair close to her husband
so he need not feel lonely. She knows
German songs and some other foreign
things, which suppose you know all a.
bout, but don't; well, she used TO sing