Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1879-12-26
SUSAN LANES CHRISTMAS.
a Christmas Story Written for the New
York Tribune by Bayard Taylor.

"Three skeins, dark gray only yard of
ribbon Don't lose the pattern And
the cotton wadding !"
The old covered buggy was rolling away
from the gate, as Lydia Lane called, or ra-
ther screamed, with rising shrillness of voice,
those parting directions. But Susan neither
looked back nor answered; on the contrary
the flourish of whip was momentarily visi-
bic, the horse started briskly forward and
the buggy whirled into the main road.
"Well, l never !" Lydia Maria exclaimed,
as she drew the shawl around her shoulders,
and rested her elbows on the gate post Il
don't believe she half knows what she's about.
So fidgety all at once, and her hands so hot !
hope to goodness it isn't the typhus."
1t was the day before Christmas Susan &
biggest turkey was to be caught and killed
that afternoon, and there were various arti-
cles-c cranberries being not the least impor-
tant among them-to be procured at the vii
lage store. The sky was uncertain,
and the pleasant brown landscape was dap
pied with CLEANS of struggling sunshine, but
there was Just that touch of healthy cold in
the air which often makes December in South
ern Pennsylvania as lovely as any autumn
month. Lydia Maria, a tall and wiry spin
ster of-well, we may allow forty years, but
not day overlooked into the garden and
noticed that the sage and parsley were still
tolerably fresh. As she pulled the best sprigs,
with view to to-morrows turkey, faint,
delicious odor surprised her nostrils. In
that warm corner which was sheltered by the
cluInp of box whole bed of white violets
had suddenly bloOmed The perfume and
the sight of the flowers made her think of
Susan again, and an unusual softened express
sion came over her rigid face while she gath
cred enough to fill a saucer.
Il Gsuaa 70 NUawlr raaWW
which was taken for Christmas. In fact, it
was owing to Susan alone that Christmas had
come to be commemorated in the Lane farm
house. The people of the neighborhood
were partly of Quaker and partly of Baptist
descent, with slight infusion of the Scotch
Irish Presbyterian element. They had never
been accustomed even to yearly Thanksgly-
ing festival, and only few of them had in
herited the habit of looking for any special
good cheer at Christmas time. But when
Young William Lane enlisted as a soldier of
the Union, Susan, then girl of fourteen
could not hear of the turkeys and pies sent
to other sons and brothers in the regiment
eneamped on the hills beyond Washington
without fairly extorting from the family a
like gift for William. Her father and her
older brother, Jeremiah, were Democrats /;
her mother was dead and Lydia Maria, ST.
lently enduring what country-peOple call
disappointment, took but a languid inter
est in the work. 1t cost Susan much labor
and many tears but she finally succeeded,
More than this, she offered up her only re-
naming turkey, roasted it, set it on the table
that very Christmas Day, and comforted her
self with the fancy that William was enjoy
ing. at the same moment, his happy fill Of
breast and side bone.
The next winter the brave young fellow
was in Libby Prison, and no one made objee-
tion to the large box forwarded to him, in
the fond belief that the express company de
liyered their packages punctually inside OF
the Southern lines. Alas the box never ar,
rived but they did not know of this until
months afterwards. They ate Susan's tur-
kew, as usual, then and for years succeeding
the first objections, prompted by old Gideon
Lanes habit of self-denying economy, were
gradually forgotten, and thus Christmas Day
5as also at many of the neighboring
arm-houses) came to be an accepted festival
n rather sober one. Even Lydia Maria, as
she walked toward the house with sage, pars-
Law and white violets in her hand, found her,
self thinking of the morrow with restiui
Jeremiah, who had been at work IN the
wood-sbed. met her near the kitchen-door;
He looked at the herbs she carried, nodded
slightly to himself as il to say, ITS about