The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1875-04-27
Mercy for Miss Mary.

The setting sun was casting strange
wild glory over forest, pasture. and brook
and peeping with lurid glance through
the long row of ancient elms that separa
ted spacious old mansion. house from tn,
highway. Over the gateway that led t,
the broad avenue was faded sign, bear
ing the name of the once famous physician
of the region and above that, on an iroI
arch, large lamp, which was never trim
med nor lighted now. Ruin and decay
were written on everything around.
The hand of the healer had lost it
cunning, and his mind its strength. The
whole ardor of his dying mental powers
was fixed on the one great passion of hi
life-the pride of his profession. AS h,
could no longer heal others he now prac
ticed on himself and troublesome pa
tlent he had. He would sit for hour
feeling his own pulse, examining his owl
tongue in the glass, and writing out Latir
prescriptions. When he grew weary o
this fruitless work. he would insist on hi
daughter taking nauseous draught, OF
applying some external but needless
remedy"
The poor old man would talk ncessant.
ly, and he had mind enough left to know
that he ought to have listener. When
his daug ghter filled that wearisomc place
his theme was always, Everything is
changed since your mother died and the
girls were married nobody cares for me
now. You don't play or sing as Julia
used to, to please me. He had given
the piano to Julia, although music was
half the life of this faithful daughter J
You don't even ride Jenny now denny
was worn out and dead, and no other
horse had ever filled her stall) 1t is sad
and lonely sad and lonely ~
If old Nancy, the lifelong friend and
sole remaining servant was the listener,
his theme was always, "Nobody cooks as
my mother used to cook, and nothing
tastes good now. Folks cook poultry in
the sun now. and boil beeisteak in the pot
with the potatoes and you mix rhubarb
in place of mustard for my corned beef.
. dear, I'm 20 hungry! Shoes all pinch
now, und the print is all so fine that
can't read even through three pairs of
spectacles and folks all talk SO low that
they might as well not talk at all. They
don't want me to hear Sad and lonely !
Sad and lonely !"
1t vas "sad and lonely" for another
than he-for Mary, the flower of his
flock, whose youth had faded and whose
middle life was now burning slowly out
on the homo altar without the aid or the
sympathy even Of the sisters, whose bur.
dens, as we'll as her own, she was patient.
ly bearing here.
AS the sun was setting on the evening
Of which we write, "Miss Mary" passed
through the long hall and the dining.
room with its sombre .drapery and faded
furniture and seating herself in vine.
covered arbor in the rear of the house
dropped her hands helplessly in her lap,
and sighed out, "Oh, my poor, tired
leart."
In moment Nancy, her humble
friend, was at her side and, with look
of surprise, she exclaimed. why, Miss
Mary, what on 'airth brought you out to
my little arbor, when you've got such
nice piazza on the front of the house ?"
II am trying to run away, Nanny"
replied the lady, with weary SMILE
"Who from ?"
"From myself, Nanny! !"
"Why, what's the matter, Miss Mary.
Them letters hadn't no bad news in 'em,
had they ?"
Miss Mary then suddenly remembered
that those letters ought to have brought
her joy, SO, with a smile, she .eplied,
"Oh, Nanny, forgot to tell you that
Julia and the boys are coming home to
stay six weeks with us coming to.mor-
row."
"Goody sakes alive !" cried Nancy.
Mrs. Howard amt comm so quick
agin, with them rarin', stavin' boys, and
that are toppy nuss.gall O. hern What
sarvice is home to her ?"
"Her husband is going away, and she
thought she ought TO come to comfort
poor father"
"Well, l can tell you them boys won't
comfort him much They nigh about
finished him up the last time Don't
you remember, his head felt so that he
got conceit that it was yourn that was
unsettled. and sot out to bleed you for
rush o. blood2 If it want for your sake
dear. I'd run away and hide myself till
they was off What does Mrs. Howard
think you and mes made on, that we can
stand them boys and that s.gall beside
the doctor? Goody, how he will feel his
pulse and look at his tongue, and make
you mix messes, when the uproar begins
1--WE must keep them all quiet" re.
piled Miss Mary.
"Y es, and we must stop the risin' O
the tide, too, if we can," retorted Nancy
sarcastically. Cant you write and stoT
'em. and SO save life and limb for yourself
and the rest of us p
Miss Mary did not writc and in few
days "Sister Julia" appeared with hel
twin boys and nurse, and half a dozer
great trunks, which Nancy and Mis-
Mary had to unpack in the lower hall
and then transport with all they had con
tanned up stairs. This raid" as Nancy
called it, more than doubled the work o
the family and increased to an alarming
degree the restlessness Of the old gentle
man.
By and by all was quiet in the house
and the sisters were alone in what wa
long their mothers room.
"Well, Molly, dear, it does seem S
good to be at home again !" exclaime
Mrs. Howard. as she twisted and twirle
the diamonds in her ears and on he
fingers. How do envy your peace an
rest /; all is such noise and hubbub in tn
city-such a whirl of society that i: hal
bewilders me -
"Why don't you keep out of it, an
devote yourself to the boys?"
"Mercy! give my whole life up I
them now, and there's a care you ar
saved dear | tell Won Mollv thosa e.