Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1880-12-01
A Search for a Situation.

Search for a Situation.
Martie Woodbridge name was
Martha, but no one called her SOLVED
on the outskirts of small village.
Her father was a farmer, but not
prosperous one. Nature, with its frosts
and droutbs, was always getting the up
per hand of him, and the crops which he
raised were sure to be those which brought
the lowest price in the market. The
cankerworm stripped his apple trees, and
late frost blighted the corn and oats
He had the misfortune to buy COW which
introduced the cattle disease into his farm
yard, and Creamer, Spotty and Whiteface
the three cows that always filled their
pals the fullest and made the most golden
butter-sickened and died.
This was Il question which Martie puz-
zled over from day to day, coming at last
to the conclusion that she must try her
luck in the big world which she had seen
so little of outside her own small village
She would go to London, and, if possible,
find there situation as governess, in
which she could at least provide for her
own support.
Her mother let fall few quiet tears
over the plan, and smiling patiently
through them said: "Ask your father
Mr. Woodbridge said No." al first; but
having laid awake all night over his diff
Guilty, he called Martie to him, kissed her
solemnly, gave weary sigh, and with it
his consent.
So it came to pass that on a cool, crisp
October morning, when the woods We're
at their brightes- autumn flush, and the
frost had stffened the grass into little
silvery blades and spears, and made the
few pale flowers that fingered by the road
side hang their heads, Martie put on her
bravest smile, made hopeful, comforting
little speeches, kissed them all goodbye
at holne-the dear old home, so full of
Joys and truubles-and started for London,
to put into that great, hurrying, driving,
iostling market The modest wares she had
to offer
Martie was eager and full of hope; but,
alas! how much eagerness and hopeful
ness go down to death every day in the
frantic rush and scramble for the good
things going. Marte, in the great city,
looking for work to do, seemed like Il
quiet little wren trying to pick up worm
or crumb where hawks and vultures were
snatching for plunder.
Martie was met the moment she step
ped from the train by an old friend of the
family, who had kindly promised to re-
ceive her at her house, and do what she
could to assist her. The next day, early
in the morning, modest unpretending
liLtle advertisement was sent to QUE of the
daily newspapers. What a stupendous
affair it seemed to Martic, and how her
unsophisticated little heart beat at the
thought of it! Nothing come of it that
day, however; and while she goes out
with Mrs. Allen to do little shopping
and stare at few of the city lions, let us
into.
Mrs. Allen kept a small private lodging
house. very select and very genteel. It's
inmates were the learned Professor Big
wig and family. from whose presence J.
certain literary aroma was supposed t.
pervade the atmosphere; the brillian,
Colonel Boreas, hero-according to hi.
own account-of numberless battles; ri
sing young lawyer, with his pretty
blushing girl wife, all fresh and lovely il
her new bridal toilet; rich widow and
her still richer daughter, who, it was said
was soon to become the helpmate of tn,
clerical member of the household, tn,
Rev. Paul Appollos; and Mr.. Raymond
an artist, whose pictures had won golden
praises from critics and connoisseurs, and
golden riches from purchasers.
Mr. Raymond was Marties left-hand
neighbor at the table. With the first
glance at his dark face, iron gray hair and
] mustache, deep-set gray eyes, she felt in
clined to be afraid of him. When he
smiled she liked him better, and though
the gray eyes looked kind, and she fel
very shy and lonesome among these
strange faces. and was glad to have him
talk "a little TO her. and take care that she
was provided with all she wanted.
On the second morning after she arrivoc
in the city, Martie's advertisement ap
peared.
Mrs. Allen sent paper to her room
before she was out of bed, so that almos
as soon rs her eyes were open she ha'
begun to hope, and TO be afraid, and u
wonder, if out of so many people wht
she supposed would come to see her,
any of them would think we'll enough O
her to want her services.
Martie was very pans-taking with he
toilet that morning. She wanted to lool
her best. She spent twice the usual time
over her wavy, gold brown hair; anC
when she put on her pretty gray dress
the gray dress was for morning and th
black silk for afternoon fastened thu
dainty spolless collar and cuffs, she dalliet
fully five minutes over her little stock o
ribbons, trying this one and that, and wen
down at last to breakfast, looking, to Mr.
Raymond's artist eyes, which took her at
Il glance like wild rose just out of a
thicket, with the dewy morning bright
ness beaming in her bright eyes
the pink of roses petals in her cheek
and soft. warm shimmering sunbeam
woven into ripple of her brown hair
How his artist fingers longed for canvas
and colors, to give to his beloved ST. Ag
nes that beautiful hair
But the wild rose might as well hav'
been blooming in her native thicket. Ii
vain Martie peeped from the front win
lows and held her breath when the door
bell rang. No one came to see the gra,
dress that morning.
The black dress Jared better. 1t wa
called upon; and Mlrtie went down t.
the yarlor, with her heart in her mouth
to meet the grand lady whose carriag'