Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1876-01-14
SEEING BETTER DA Us.

! uullQudltu tlllbIOlutly'
The sturdy gossips Of the seaside village,
who went about with their skirts tucked
up and their bare brown arms ready and
able for any work, looked askance at the
widow Minton, with her pitiful meagre-
ness of aspect, her flickering black eye,
aud her trailing old gown. They nudged
each other, and said, Better days-Lord
save us T.
But the widow did not trouble the neigh
bors much, nor they her. A body who
couldn't do a hearlsome hands stirring
was best left alone TO her brooding, and the
widows smoky little cabin, solitnrily apart
on the sea-shore, was left pretty much 10
herself and her boy TON.
Tom was sturdy, brown. faced lad, who
picked up living by doing odd jobs for
the boatmen, aid now and then taking a
day for fishing. Tom had probably never
seen better days. The widow shook her
head over him-so stupidity content, poor
Tom so bcaming and goodnatured over
beggarliuess aud hopelessness. A tall,
well. grown fellow, with bare feet a torn
straw hat, and a led shirt, Tom took the
world easily, looking with reverent eyes
on his mothers by-gone gentility, but by
no means seeming to covet it for himself.
The widow deemed ii due to her past re-
spectabilty to be seen Al church OF Sun
day evening, and you could see the two
walking at twilight along the sands togeth-
or, she with her clean pocEet-handkerchief
folded over her old hymn-book aud a GER
tain doubtful hesiiancy of gait, as II heaven
itself might be looking down critically on
her shabby black gown and rusty bonnet.
AS for Tom, patient Tom, he went plod-
ding slowly after her, with his smiling face,
whistling to himself as he went Always
patient, always plodding, poor Tom Pa
tiently falling asleep during the sermon,
and patiently listening open moutbed 10
the closing hymn, his careless bright face,
contrasting SO oddly with his mothers
querulous and tear-worn visage, won for
him the sobIiquet OF the widow Mnton's
rainbow.
The minister the parish, mistaken soul,
deemed il incumbent TO make call on the
widow; and, on charity bent, ii is said he
unwari y offered 10 employ her services in
his household for a season. lie deemed it
ty.
IGo did rouse her; and it is averred that
he never found time TO call at the cabin
again. Did he lake her for common
household drudge, or a low-born field
hand? She thanked God she had TOO much
spirit len yet to put herself under any
body's feet. lie hadn't far to go TO find
scores OF drudges and dgsers, but he might
go further before he knew a lady when he
saw her.
1t might have Ieeu the afternoon af;er
the good mans visit that the widow sat
idly Orooding at her cabin door. Her eyes
had wandering, far-away look, and her
face was keenor and thinner than ever. De-
you'd the blum which sheltered her cabin
stretched a far limo Of sea-coast, the white
sand cleaning silyery in the sun. Far of
group of bathers in bright dresses nolic-
ked between shore and wafer. They came
from the great hotel down beyond sho
could almost catch the sound of their voices
asshe sat slowly rocking in her doorway. 1t
was quiet afternoon the air was soil aud
soothing, and the widows heart so full of
bitterness, felt itself sweeten and soften in
the stiffness. This part of the shore shell
tered by its overhanging rock, was seldom
disturbed 10y intruders, but presently the
watchers eye caught sight Of "A young girl
splashing and frolckinG in the water just
beyond the rocks. 1t was pretty sight,
the rounded arms, the curving shoulders,
the swaying, floating fi2ure. And perhaps
the old woman recalled with n sigh the
time when she was young and bithe too,
and had as CHEEKY a voice as that with
which the fair swimmer hailed her COM
panions in the distance.
Gazing ahsenily Oh the smiling scene, u
rever fell upon her, and when she look ed
again, the young water-nymph had dsap.
peared. She had probably swum ashore
behind the rocks. The widow turned away,
hugged her thin shawl over her shoulders,
and thought that the sea wind was chilly.
Hark! What was lhatH Surely she heard
a cry. No merry shout or ringing laugh
this; it might be the cry OF a wild bird on
lis way to its mate.
She couldn't have got beyond her depth,
that young creature, surely But, la I
what of il if she had? Dying young, body
bNA9 fAlN VI - hNhA VI AlphbISs 1tSg
surely, that was scream. The widow
looked sharply out. Would Tom never
come? The tide was rising, and-and some-
thing certainly was the matter. She called,
she beckoned frantically to the bathers be-
yond they seemed both blind and deaf.
No one, not one soul, at hand, and that
young thing in peril Of life A minute
she stood still, listening-a feeble old wo-
man with haggard, scared face, to whom
no one would have dreamed of looking for
help.
81 can't stand this" she said. "Seems
l might pull out that old scow myself
Tom r. she screamed with yell that held
the concentrated energy of ten years. But
no Tom appeared. And it WAS the widow
herself, With those withered old hands that
disdained the minister's kitchen work-it
was the widow herself, who, straining, tug
ging, aud with her gray hair fluttering in
the wind, unloosed the old dug-out from
its mooriugS, and trembling, unskillful,
armed with rade paddle, went spinning
out dizzily over the water. 1t leaked, the
old scOw ii scorned tho broken paddle
and the heavy oars, but finally it came
drifting out blindly and dizzlly to the OBJ
ject Of her search. A plump hand with a
glitteriug ring upon ii clutched the edge of
the boat, nearly upsetlins it. A young,
eager face, with streaming hair, looked up
from the water and gasping, shuddering,
half d owned, and wholly scared, the
young ~ater-nymph was presently aboard
the old cral.
"Oh, how frightened 1 was p she cried.
81 felt sure was losing all my strength,