Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1876-03-01

lent and busy at his table, aud seemed in.
terested in nothing that was not box, beech
or fr-wood.
One day, when 1t was very dreary out OF
doors, and very still within, and Wilhelmina
had knit till her fingers ached, she somehow
got her yarn into a snarl, and in trying TO
disentangle Il she pulled out her needle and
unravelled nearly all her work. when she
dashed the whole upon the.foor and began
TO cry.
Good Karl Albrecht looked over his spec.
tacles at his daughter, and then at his work,
and concluded TO finish rose he had begun
before he talked, for be could never talk and
work at the same time.
Wilhelmina began to cry louder, and rat
tied her wooden shoes together in a very dis
tressing way.
What is the matter, little one ?" asked
the father, kindly Patience we will soon
re-arrange the knitting. Why dost thou cry
over so small trouble Life is long and
tears never turned mill dry thine eyes,
my Wilhelmina and he untwisted the
yarn with careful hands, and picked up the
runaway stitches as quickly and easily as
one pulls primroses in May.
" ] am not crying over the knitting or the
yarn said Wilhelmina, with a long sob
" So |" replied the father, gently stroking
the child's braids, " tell me about IT,"
"l'm tired of everything" she went on !
" tired of the snow and the dark days.
long for the summer, when can 90 again
with Aunt Tessa and Uncle Frederic TO the
pasture on the mountain side, and watch the
black-faced kids. and see the Kitzkamp and
the Book kmgl turn into fire as the sun rises
Oh, I'm so tired of the winter, aud the mar
row, silent house !"
$50, so, | understand" said the father,
still more gently patting the braided hair
But the winter might bring the pleasure,
my child, if thou couldst be patient. Wait,
| will tell thee a story, and perhaps that will
help thee when the days are long, and the
yarn snarls.
"Once upon a time there was little girl
named Ulrica, and she was quite like thee,
my Wilhelmina.
"One morning she awOke aud saw--what
do you think-the white beds of her father
and mother, and the window shaded by the
curtain edged with knotted fringe Oh no !;
she saw a strange, high room, that she had
never seen before, and all the furniture in it
was her bed, chair and tall embroidery
frame covered with canvas marked for work.
ing. Near the frame lay mass Of dingy
dusty threads.
beside her bed stood an old woman, who
bade her rise.
"' Child, said the old woman, thy wants
shall be supplied, but thou canst not leave
this room till thou hast finished this piece
Of tapestry Whether the time be long or
short, remains with thee when thou hast
finished thy work, will Immediately re-
lease thee and then she vanished.
For long time Ulrica wept and beat
her hands, and cried aloud for help; but it
was useless-no one heard her
AT last she began studying the design
marked upon the canvas stretched on the
embroidery frame, but to her it was mean
ingless. Then she began working, and when
she set one stitch six appeared, aud when
she drew ont one thread from the mass six
threads came out straight and smooth for
working; when she was cross and inpatient
however, six stitches disappeared whenever
she touched the canvas, and it was quite i'm
possible for her to pull out even one thread
from the bunch.
Observing this, Ulrica determined to be
careful and patient in future, and so well
did she succeed that at the end of a yeal
and day the tapestry was done. Twas early
twilight when she set the last stitch, and a.
/ CIV ANNhNu Nl 0llN uANl NV ~ hlol ett lilt
| figure standing beside her. 1t was the old
woman but as Ulrica looked at her, she
| changed into beautiful young woman, hei
black dress became a gown Of shining
white, aud when she spoke her voice SOUNDED
| like the sweetest music.
"'Thou hast done WELL Ulrica. Behold
said the shining one, Then Ulrica saw som,
of the dingy threads had become fine spur
gold, and others the sacred colors, blue anC
red, and some were green and violet and tn,
design, which had been to her so meaning
less, was lovely picture of the Holy Chris
blessing the little children.
"Ah, my daughter" said good father Al
brecht, "no matter if our home is lowly
and our work apparently poor and mean, Go,
sets us in our place, and appoints our task
and if we do our work well, and with
cheerful spirit, I'm sure He'll some time show
us in the mansion His beloved Son has pre-
pared for us the lovely picture of usefu
life our patient toll has wrought"
"And what is the name of this story
father 2" asked Wilhelmina.
| will call it The Patience Story IN,
Wilhelmina, and | hope thou wilt always re
member it," said the father. And Wilhel
nina did remember it so well that when sh,
died, many years after, very old woman
all the people who knew her said, d" Her
was useful life we bless her memory
] Il jLgr1f (Ht-fsytyp