Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1880-11-19

Z
instead of the duck being a bird peculiarly
adapted to Thanksgiving, she had deliberate
ly planned to dine on a memory. She wished
she had never bought that duck How close
the past seemed to draw around her and
what a strange pain it brought, in spite of all
the sweetness and tenderness Of it! She
closed her eyes and leaned her head back up
on the chair, and as the twilight deepened,
the present grew more and more dim. Miss
Maud Muller was not the only woman on
record who allowed "her candle to an astral
burn" Miss Snedeker though having no
knowledge Of the former young woman, had
melancholy habit Of adopting kindred
views, and allowing her feeble taper to burn
an unlimited quantity Of the same kind of
oil.
"Of all days Of the year to be unhappy :"
sighed the poor, faded little milliner and
this time the tears that had been slowly gath
ering began to fall. "And 1t was only this
morning was trying to count up my mer-
cos, and tonight not one of them is left
not one single one-my life is all gone;
| there's is not happy thing left to me but to
die and become nothing How can / give
thanks in dHythingP And yet we have been
commanded to do it "in everything" / am
sure the Bible cannot mean me- st. Paul
| couldn't have known anything about me-
| How could st. Paul know anything about a
poor lonely woman, any way, and milliner
at that, :" And she shook out her handkerchief
and gave one of her pathetic shifts at the bare
| idea.
"This will never do, she said, taking her
self to task vigorously. "Patty Snedeker
Of all days in the year to be ungrateful !"
Whom happily diversion occurred by ring
at the little shop-door
'Bless me !" cried Miss Snedeker, wiping
the tips Of her fingers and throwing the Gu
| nhar ctnpn intO tba fra O. A customer
a legal holiday 1t is most surprising. But
it may be Mrs. Pennysniffers after all Very
! likely she smelled the duck"
She opened the door into the little shop
and was surprised to see a little old man with
a large package in his hand.
'I beg your pardon" be said in very
sweet, kind voice, 81 don't know whether it
is customary thing to keep shops open on
legal holiday. Not that l want to buy any
thing myself in fact l am carrying around
for sale an extra kind of a stereoscope"
"O!" said Miss Snedeker, with falling
intonation in her voice, II really can afford
to buy nothing"
''But may show it TO you, may l not?"
1T would do no good" said the milliner,
shortly, with a bitter sort Of feeling in her
heart that she was not only alone in the
world but she was unhappy and wretched-
no one could tell how wretched-and what
how could she pay for 1t if she did want it
She who had nothing-absolutely nothing2
She shook her head at the old man and
turned away, but was surprised TO see that
he had taken out the stereoscope and placed
! it on the counter. II can arrange it here
quite wel,' he was saying 'but stay, that
little room looks very quiet and pleasant, let
me put it on the table and then you can look
at your leisure"
rlyalla IN cipnc old Tna IN ,
thought Miss Snedeker "but she led the
way into the sitting-room, and dropped
down into her chair again.
The old gentleman took out an oblong box,
placed it in position, and threw dark cloth
over it. Now you may look" he said, and
Miss Snedeker, with another sniff, disdain-
full one this time placed her eye to the aper-
ture. For few moments she saw nothing
but long, dark passage, and the blank wall
at the other end. Then it began to move
slowly the passage widened until wall be-
gan to close around her-a bare low wall a
meagre, poverty stricken apartment 1t was
the room in which she was sitting, but oh !!
how changed. The clock was gone, the ca
nary bird was sitting in the window, the two
or three pots Of flowers, bright with winter
bloom, even the polished cooking stove and
the dingy square of Wilton carpet were there
no longer, a cold wind moaned around the
woman crouched alone on the hearth, her
thin, faded hands extended to meet the fee
BILE warmth Of few dying embers. She
looked intently at the face, and behold it was
her own-but not more changed was the
wretched apartment than the face sickly,
starved, feeble, old and then she heard a
hollow voice, broken with sobs, and it said ;
Last Thanksgiving l sat by my cheerful
freside, and because | was alone, and poor
I tp mn, and rap,arnhar nv "
mercies. l refused to thank God for the
blessings of the year l said there was moth
ing for which could give thanks, and now in
His wrath He no longer remembereth mercy
and l can only feel that in my poverty and
old age all His waves and His bilows have
gone over me-"
This may yet be-" said the low, sweet
voice of the old man.
Still Miss Snedeker looked, without speak,
ing There was perfect fascination in thus
gazing. Again the passage widened; it
spread out dark and arching at the top, until
it seemed as il she were not looking through
anything, but stood out in the cold, wide
streets. The snow was falling softly, very
softly; the whole earth lay wrapped in the
broad white sheet, and only one solitary fig
ure staggered through the heavy drifts. The
keen wind lifted the scanty garments and tat
tered shawl she wrapped it closer about her
|
long city street she wandered, the same soft
snow always falling, falling, the same low
wind wailing such melancholy note of woe.
On she toiled asking for work from door to
door, from shop to shop. Again and
again she was repulsed her step grew more
feeble her form more bent. Finally, ex-
hausted, she clung to doorway she raised
her head and looked up despairingly at the
shrouded heavens. The same faoe-Patty
| C,aIaIrarfs ,1xy foH n1dar-Auip0
"What Thanksgiving day" she whispered,
clasping her thin hands. "What IA weary
night before the dawn! would not see my
blessings when they were too many to num-
Der. l was ungrateful, blind. wicked-but
to-day, with every joy in life fed, l ask foI
one more mercy. Lord Jesus, remember me
when Thou comest into Thy kingdom" HeI
head sank low upon the stones the white
snow drifted over her, not more cold or still
than she.
And then again she heard the same sweet
voice, "This may yet be-"
81 have sinned," cried Miss Snedeker in
agony. 81 was ungrateful and wicked, and
God has punished me in this world oh ! can
He forgive me, and receive me in spite of al
my sins, when He comes into His kingdom ?
, She started up, uttering this bitter cry, but
the old man with the silvery hair, and grave,
reproving voice was there no longer-the
stereoscope, too, was gone, but Pollock
Course of Time lay on the table, open at the
third page, just as she had left it, and the
room was only triAe more full of soft shad
ows and purpling gloom. Miss SnedekeI
looked around and rubbed her eyes. There
was no one in the shop. The door was
closed, the curtain down. She gave long,
low cry of thankfulness. 1T was dream,
she said to herself, "it was a dream after all
but perhaps the blessed Lord Himself sent
the dream to give me a true Thanksgiving
night"-and then she gave another little
sniff-not pathetic one this time-and soft
ly repeated to herself the text that she had
heard that very morning. 1t seemed to hei
that she had never known what it meant be
, fore. Her heart was so full of new, strange
hat al hafora tha Rra unl lOrf