Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-07-20

Miseellaneous.
SEEING BETTER DAYS.

The widow Minton had seen better days
How far back wasn't exactly certified but
she had seen them. Better days hung
mouldily about her, like the defaced shreds
OF antiquated embroidery.
The sturdy gossips of the seaside vii
lage, who went out with their skirts tucked
up and their bare brown arms ready and
able Tor any work, looked askance at the
widow Minton, with her pitiful meager-
ness OF aspect, her Pickering black eve,
and her trailing old gown They nudged
each other, and said. Better days-Lord
save usn'
But the widow did not trouble the neigh
bors much, nor they her. A body who
couldn't do a heartsome hands stirring
was best left alone to her brooding, aud
the widows smoky little cabin, solitariy
apart on the seashore, was left pretty
much to herself and the boy Tom.
Tom was sturdy, brown-faced lad,
who picked up living by doing odd jobs
for the boatmen, and now and then taking
day for fishing. Tom had probably new
er seen better days The widow shook
her head over him-so stupidity content,
poor Tom ! so beaming and good-na,ured
over beggarliness and hopelessness. A
tall. well-grown fellow, with bare feet, a
torn straw hat, and a red shirt. Tom took
the world easily, looking with reverent
eyes on his mothers bygone gentility
but by no means seeming to covet it tor
himself.
The widow deemed it due to her past
respectability to be seen at church of a
Sunday evening, and you could see the
two walking at twilight along the sands
together, she with her clean pocket-hand-
kerchief folded over her old hymn-book
and certain doubtful hesitancy of gait, as
if heaven itself might be looking down
critically on her shabby black gown and
rusty bonnet. AS for Tom, patient Tom,
he went ploddng slowly after her, with
his smiling face, whistling to himself as
he went. Always patient, always plod-
ding. poor Tom Patiently falling asleep
during the sermon. aud patiently listening
open mouthed to the closing hymn, his
careless bright face, contrasting SO oddly
with his mother 5 querulous and tear-worn
visage, won for him the sobrquet of the
widow Mnton's rainbow.
The minister of the parish, mistaken
soul. deemed it incumbent to make a call
on the widow; and, on charity bent, it is
said he unwarly offered to employ her
services in his household for season. He
deemed it his duty to rouse the old woman
to activity.
He did rouse her; and it is averred that
he never found time to call at the cabin
again. Did he take her for a common
household drudge, or a low-born field
handP She thanked God she had too
much spirit left yet to put herself under
any body's feet. He hadn't far to go TO
find scores of drudges and diggers. but he
might 60 further before he knew a lady
when he saw her.
1t might have been the afternoon after
the good mans visit that the widow sat
idl; brooding at her cabin door. Her
eyes had a wandering, far-away look, and
her face was keener and thinner than ev-
er. Beyond the bluff which sheltered her
cabin stretched a far line of sea-coast, the
white sand cleaning silvery in the SUM-
Far off Il group OF bathers in bright dress
es frOlicked between shore and water.
They came from the great hotel down be-
yond; she could almost catch the sound of
their voices as she sat slowly rocking in
her doorway.
1t was II quiet afternoon; the air was
soft and soothing, and the widows heart.
SO full of bitterness, felt itself sweeten and
soften in the stiffness. This part of the
shore, sheltered by its overhanging rock,
was seldom disturbed by intruders, but
presently the watchers eye caught sight
of young girl splashing and frolicking
in the water Just beyond the rocks. 1t
was a pretty sight the rounded arms, the
curving shoulders, the swaying, floating
lad 10 4
called with sigh the time when she was
young and blithe too. and had rs CHEEKY
voice as that with which the fair swimmer
hailed her companions in the distance.
Gazing absently on the smiling scene,
fell upon her. and when She looked
again, the young water-nymph had dis
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 that
Surely she heard cry. No merry shout
or ringing laugh this; it might be the cry
OF a wild bird on its way to its mate
She couldn't have got beyond her depth.
that young creature. surely But 10
what of it if she had? Dying young. a
body gets quit OF a deal of trouble. And
Yes, surely, that was a scream. The
widow looked sharply out. Would Tom
never Gomez The tide was rising. and
and something certainly was the matter.
She called, she beckoned frantically to the
balhers beyond; 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
woman with haggard. scared face, to
whom no one would have dreamed OF
looking for help.
IL can't stand this" she said "Seems
| might pull out this old scow myself
Tom !" Tom she screamed, with yell
that held the concentrated energy of ten
years. But no Tom appeared. And it
was the widow herself, with those with
cred old hands that disdained the minis
ter's kitchen work--it was the widow her
self, who, straining, tugging, and with
her gray hair fluttering in the wind, un-
oosed the old dug out from its moorings,
and trembling, unskillful, armed with
rude paddle, went spinning out dizzily
over the water. Ii leaked, the old scow
t scorned the broken paddle and the heavy