The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1874-11-04

hVto'o uit dpt w bt III tiiDSC lldlbS. llt
pillarcd porch was overrun with yellow
honeysuckle, and the magnolia rose (beau-
tiful alike for lite flowers and foliage, as
was also the roof of that picturesque and
convenient appendagc peculiar, belieye,
to West Jersey homes, and called sum
mer Kitchen. Everything that could be
planted was painted with white or green.
Everything else was whitewashed, for in
| west jersey you cannot be christian I'M
less you whtewash twice a year. There
were two great linden trees in front of the
house, just now in blossom and resounding
with the murmur of innumerable bees.
The air, just slightly sailed, was heavy
with the scent of yellow honeysuckle. The
/ only gloomy things about the place were
the black ribbons which fluttcred from the
shutters, and Miss Fitch's own dress, which
was of the deepest black, only relieved by
plain collar of clear muslin.
| AS Miss Fitch leaned from the window
an old coored man passing in the street
took off his hat to her.
Good evening, Uncle Jacob" said Miss
Fitch. "Wait moment; | want to speak
to yOu.' Miss Fitch put on her hat and
went out on the steps to question the old
man about some of his numerous grand
children-Melindy or Sally or IIuldy-who
wanted place.
"What beautiful flowers - said she look
ing at the bunch of laurels which the old
man carried. 81 had not realized that the
laures were already in blossom
IL brung EN- along puppus for Miss
Fitch" said Uncle Jacob. 81 member
just how you and your ma used to like EN-.
Member just like twas yesterday seem
your ma a setten in the wagon, and Matt.
Garrison a bendin down the bushes for you
to break off the posies. Matt was nice
boy you don't know what's become of
him, s'pose.
81 believe he lives in South America
said Miss Fitch, accepting the flowers with
thanks Good evening, Uncle Jacob.
Send Sally up in the morning"
Miss Fitch retreated to the parlor and
sat down behind the half-clos5d shutters
She looked at the flowers, but did not see
them. Another picture was before her
eyes. She saw her mother, even then an
invalid, sitting smiling and pleased in the
little carriage-the half cleared spot in the
opening-thc pond with bank of bright
Orange-colored sand rising behind 1.-THE
vanished leaves of the holly and oak scrub
rejecting the sun-the velvet shadows and
warm, solid lights OF the late afternoon ;
and amid all herself a young girl of eigh-
teen, reaching up to gather the exquisite
pink and white and crimson bud and flow
ers which Matthew Garrison lent down to
her twenty years ago. In another moment
the picture was gone, shaken. as its refiec-
ton in the pond might have been, by a
sudden gust of sobs-blottcd out by rain
of tears. There was no rebellion, and
hardly any bitterness, in her grief. Even
in the midst of it her heart was saying
again and again, at was all well it was
Nnt will l,,,t Thine bf
done"
You see, the faith of this gentle, lonely
lady was not bankrupt. 1t was perfectly
solvent, ready to answer in moment, and
in the purest gold. any call which might be
made upon it She was quite composed
again in five minutes, and rose to put hel
flowers in water. Having arranged then
to her satisfaction, she went out to tho
kitchen, where an ancient black woman
presided.
~ think shall 70 to town tomorrow
Aunt Katy" said Miss Fitch.
'Do tell returned Katy. Comm HON.
at night?"
81 think no. believe | shall stay al
night, and come home in the boat the next
day."
"Do tell" said Aunt Katy again. II
was remark which she considered peril
nent to any subject or event. ''Well, III
have your breakfast bright and early, and
guess I'd better speak to the omnibus to-
night"
Miss Fitch had always been called ''Miss
Fitch" Even in her youth she had never
called Mary Anne by any one but hei
mother She might fairly be called an old
maid, seeing that she was nearer forty than
thirty. Her soft brown hair showed nc
traces of gray, and was equally gliltess OF
cushions or frizzles. Hell dress looked like
a dress and not like a rag-bag, though il
was sufficiently in the prevailing fashion
not to be singular, and it was alb
solutely neat and delicately even ii
its blackness. Miss Fitch was an or
phan, her mother having passed away
some six months before. Edward Carrot
who ought to know better, says somewhere
that orphanage is not touching at forty.
believe it is often far more bitterly felt a
forty than at fourteen. | read in the pape
the other day of lady who died at the age
of one hundred and ten, leaving n single
daughter of eighty. l do not believe H.,
world held a more desolate orphan thar
that maiden lady Of fourseore. Miss Fitcl
did not recollect her father She and he
mother had lived on quietly together eve
since she could remember, neither rich no
| poor, UdNlug cuOusi " hNtU thtibsSiN ~
and Aunt Katy, and something besides t
give away. They were great readers of al
sorts of books, and Miss Fitch had inner
tied a couple of shares in the Philadelphi,
Library, which gave the use of good man,
volumes in the course of a year. She an,
her mother had been all in all to each 9th
er. Now the mother was gone, and tn
daughter felt forlorn and lonely, as if he
work in the world was done. But she dit
not give up life for bad business eve
now. She lived quietly and cheerfully oil
in the little house in Lime street, reading
her books, studying her Bible, teaching he
regular evenings in the school which fey
charitable ladies had set up Tor the factory
girls, making baby things for a friend il
town who dealt in such mysteries, and wait
ing on Providence.
81 am well and strong she reasone
within herself II am as like to live a
, ever was and have money enough t
support myself and Katy 1t stands t
> reason that | must have something to d
in the world yet, and have faith to believ
that my work will be shown to me whe
the time comes"
So she sat still, watching and waiting fo
an opening, and dong meanwhile sue
things as came to hand.
According to her third cousin, Ira Hol
ton, there was need o. all this watchin
and waiting st stood to reason, accorC
ing to that very wel-to-do and prudent fan
mer, THAT there was no sense in Mar
Anne's occupying house which she coul
rent for two hundred year, and keepin
that old black woman, not worth her salt.
There was enough else she might do 5
argued Ira, whom Miss Fitch disllked, an
came as near hating as her gentle natul
and Christian principles would allow; an
that for several reasons He was alWa\