Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-07-02
VOL. 74.-3704. NO. SO.


that she shall not be like Sophia. ! am
alone; | do my own work. / eat my soli-
tary meals salted with lonely tears. | have
ceased to ever hope TO hear from Fred now.
The June days come again, hot and long.
There is sunshine without happiness, and
stiffness without rest.
look in the glass--I am all eyes my
face is sharpening out, my collar bones pro-
trude. am getting wispy and thin SO
much for putting my trust in man.
Old Sniper looked at me to-day, even
kindly and said
"Miss Jo you need vacation of week
or so. This hot weather. the country will
do you good, and you can work better on
your return"
So / thank him, thinking sadly that no
trip in the country can make me happy
now; that am heir henceforth only to wo-
mans undisputed legacy, tears, and longing
after the love and appreciation she will never
receive.
The big-hearted manager of the road, who
is acquainted with me, has given me pass
to st. Paul and return. I care but little
which way go, and have selected this route
because it passes through the town where
Fred Langley lives. Though half despise
him for his fckleness, still have woman's
curiosity to ride through the city, even
though only catch a glimpse of his office
windows.
get me brown poplin travelling dress.
find that old maids generally have brown
pophu, and the older they get the more
colors they wear, especially scarlet. / have
always hated red. / cannot see my way
clear just yet to putting it on my bonnet, so
get a more youthful bunch of pale blush
rosebuds for my hat.
One hot, bright July day set out on my
lonely trip; once seated in the train by the
open window, my spirits rise for / always
did love to ride in the cars there is pleas
| ant rush and excitement about them which
pleases me; we are flying so fast through
white towns, over bridges and out into the
vast Wisconsin praries-not smooth and
rolling like those of Illinois and Iowa, but
rough and jagged full of rocks and ragged
thickets, with little cabins set down here
and there, like birds nests in the grass
] flocks of ragged children troop out of these
\ and stare at the passengers--the DEAR little,
creatures What an inventory they take of
my Milwaukee bonnet, and my dusty suit
Here is a field all starred with swamp lilies,
scarlet lobelias and wild asters. How long
to get out and gather some.
| see by the towns on my ticket, and know
| by the warning whistle, that we are within
mile of Fred's home. The big manufac-
turing town is already in sight; the sand
and sawdust and coal smoke are flying. Of
course have my head and shoulders out of
the window, and, with my eyes and mouth
full of cinders am gaping wildly about me.
The train CRATES, jars and stops The
usual number of women with boxes, budgets
and parasols bundle off the train. The
Teachers Association is held here this week.
and a tribe Of women get off also, teacher
written all over them, from their ugly hats
to their ugly shoes.
Can believe my eyes? Who is it steps
up and shakes hands with two of the lankest,
most wizened old maids of them all, but my
darling Fred, with smile as sweet as the
morning, takes the satchels and shawls, and
turns to the lady who is with him, whom |
know by the elegance of her dress and a GER
tain high-bred sweetness about her, is his
sister. The Oldest maid says
$50 kind of you, Mr.. Langley, to meet
us We should have been quite bewildered
in this big place. So good in you to take SO
much troubled"
"No trouble-most happy" but he says
it rather languidly.
He glances up at my window, and in spite
Of cinders and SCOT, my caved-in bonnet, my
hair all flying and my cheeks burning like
live GOALS he knows me, and drops the
satchels.
| "Take the shawl moment, SIS" hear
! him say, and in another second he is on the
. train, leaning over my seat with my hano
held tightly in his, asking me dozen ques
tions in breath.
3 al am going to St. Paul." is all l hav,
time to answer; and he whispers, Good
bye, Mignon; will see you again !" and HI
e is off the cars as the bell begins to ring.
{ | catch one more glimpse of him as th'
r train moves off, helping his sister, and thu
old maids with their satchels, and thei
+. ankles like axe-helves, into the carriage;
h see him take the front seat beside the on,
Y with the red poppies in her bonnet, toucl
Y the reins, and the horses are off like birds
G How envy that old maid, though she ha
d a wart on her nose and looks like las
3 years mullen stalk
a Something gets into my throat and choke
/. me, and refuse the orange the man wit
q the big beard in the next seat offers mt
i Something chokes me all the way to 81
II Paul.
# 1t may have been the green peach hav
eaten but think it is the old maid.
-s Why did let him speak to me so fami
d iarly and call me "Mignon," his old nam
for me ? Why didn't | pull my hand away
a busy myself with such thoughts as thes
4: until we have crossed the boundary line
% and have entered Minnesota; here the seen
d gets wilder and wilder; the broad Missi
+ sippi winds lazily along at the foot of il
At tall bluffs, with trees topping uncomfortabl
g. all along their steep sides; close to the ca
,e windows great walls of rock rise, oh, s
vs. high up in the air The train balance
RS dizzily along like rope walker, over hig
skeleton bridges and lodges of lime-stor
er rock, where it seems as if the least jar woul
as send us down, down, dare not think how ia
ne | ride along in a sort OF mist until v
" reach st. Paul. What queer, elevate
er town it is, as if every house in it had climbs
IN up and sat down on the top OF the hill.
to get out in pouring rain, greatly to the de
he riment of my bonnet. | stop at one of IL
tb grandest hotels there, the Metropolitan, ar
or say to myself, spitefully;
81 will enjoy myself once, though STAR
he the rest of the year"
a Rather dreary magnifcence, howeve
ng for get tired the first day wandering |
,ir and down the parlors and long halls.
grow restless the second day and want
,ts 90 home. As to Minnehaha Falls, VIII
m. baby-falls 10 come so far to see / grow
M. tired of the strange faces and the scener
'fe that by the third day my brilliant SUNNI
eo debut is getting to be unbearable, when
boy brings up card with Fred Langley
He name engraved upon it.
ed do not try to make indecent haste doV
ne into the parlor, but somehow my feet W
nd take me two steps at time.
,as Fred is there with an open letter in phi
of envelope in his hand, which | see by Gle
en- scrutiny is my poor old letter written a ye
Ter ago, telling him about my sisters.
is The sight Of it angers me beyond expr
by sion. | snatch at it fiercely. Fred holds
letter far out of my reach, and catches me
m. his arms instead, bestowing upon me sol
no of the old-time kisses, whose unforgott
nix sweetness | had trained myself to believe
ser should never know again.
10 "Did you think me 80 mean, so sordid,
m. unmanly," he asked, " as not to answer yo
so letter 1t was lost, and never found un
,ey yesterday, and | came as soon as the trs
would fetch me to answer it in person."
he ask no questions; only lay my wes
,at head down on his shoulder and cry {
gh my overburdened heart upon his bosom,
rly 1t was not until afternoon, when we ;
K driving to Minnehaha Springs, near Min
apolis, the noise of St. Anthony's Falls
is my ears, that venture to say
lid How in the world did you ever lose Il
uet letter.
r.. UWell Won see nv sistar took IL fro