Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-09-21
The Piece that was Lost.

The Piece that was Lost.
There was promise of capital hay-day;
so Silas Rogers decided as he stood in the
back porch after milking, polishing his face
with a coarse towel and noting the weather
signs between the rubs.
A capital hay-day but "bad spell OF
weather" might be expected soon for did
not the almanac say, "About this time look
out for storms !"
So all hands were warned to be in readi-
ness to NOW the lower intervale in the
morning, and lose no time in getting at it,
for the lower intervale was swampy after
rain.
The chores were done, the supper eaten;
Silas, with his chair tilted against the wall,
sleeping the sleep of the Just, while his good
wife battered about the kitchen setting her
SPONGE beating up some "riz griddle cakes
for breakfast, grinding the coffee, and, in
dozen provident ways, squeezing out of the
tired day little help for the morrow.
Reuben went to the store for new scythe
math Abner, the hired man, hung over the
BARNARD gate with the beloved pipe that
tried the housewives soul, and pretty Mis-
tress Hetty wrinkled her forehead and
pricked her fingers over the new dress she
was trying to make in the few leisure
moments snatched from homework. She
made charming picture in the frame OF
the vine-wreathed window, her sleeves still
rolled above her plump elbows, the bright
hair drawn back from the rosy face which
was turned full to the lamp as she threaded
her needle, or paused to brush some deluded
moth away from the dangerous flame that
fascinated him.
A charming picture, but no one to look at
IL, hn1I
screen of solid backness between the win
dow and the road, even if any belated
traveller had CHANGED to walk that way, and
only Hetty's white cat crept stealthily along
the top of the garden fence with murderous
designs upon an untimely brood of chirping
birds in the currant bushes. Only this
ah, beware, Mistress Hetty Evil eyes are
looking at you eyes from which heather
mother would cover your face with her
hands, and breathe prayer to break the
unholy spell they might cast upon you-a
womans eyes peering from thick jungle Of
lilacs and syringas so near that it seems as if
Hetty must feel them. But Hetty feels
nothing, sees nothing but the troublesome
dress; and, as the perplexing rufiles are
conquered one by one, her heart grows light,
the little frown smooths away and Hetty
begins to sing. What sweet voice she
has 1t reaches the tired mother and light
ems her heart, too 1t wakes her father, and
then lulls him pleasantly to sleep again.
Now Abner hears it and draws his hickory
sbirtsleeve across his eyes and that watcher
in the green tangle-who can guess what
she thinks or feels as she sinks down with
her chin upon her hands, and her face quite
in the dark, and listens to the pathetic
story of The Ninety and Nine :" Hetty
herself is not half conscious Of the pathos
with which she bewals the lost one,
Away on the mountains bleak and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherds care"
and goes through the tender story to the
final rejoicing when the Shepherd brings
back his own. She is still humming it fit
fully over and over when her mother opens
the door of the keeping room and bids her
go to bed and not ruin her eyes with sewing
by lamp light.
"Just minute" says Hetty; Gas soon as
finish this sleeve"
And the minutes glide on and on, the
sleeve is finished, held up and admired, and
softly up stairs to bed. She does not even
close the window. What should come into
the house unbidden, save the cat and the
cool night air? Everything is silent The
mother bird broods her little one securely,
unconscious of the cruel eyes near by, until
Reuben comes whistling along the road and
boy like, stops to shy stone at the tempt
ing white mark on the garden fence. The
prowler leaps away with long bounds over
the wet grass, and tragedy is averted with
nothing to show for it but dirty tracks upon
the piece of factory" spread out to bleach
BY and by there is little stir in the lilac
Jungle; woman come cautiously out OF
her hiding place and steals away to the barn
The cows are lying here and there under
the long shed sleeping, perhaps, in cows
uneasy fashion, but with certain air OF
motherliness and content about them. They
do not even wonder at the late conner as she
treads her way among them, enters the barn
mounts the scaffold already well filed with
the sweet new hay, and is soon asleep, hear
ing now and then a broken twitter from the
restless swallows under the caves, or per
chance faint sweet voice singing, witt
lingering pity in its tone,
"sick, and wounded, and ready to die"
Who can tell when the summer day be
gins One instant dusky silence, cool
moist and fragrant, hanging over the hill
the next burst of song from some tree-toI
caught up from hundred green coverts
swelled, repeated and prolonged in ma
chorus that presently settles again into 81
lence. The slow stir of life awakening
the hustle among the poultry, and lowing o
some impatient COW, or the sound of he
companions nipping the short, juicy gras:
the unwilling creak of a rheumatic pun
handle, and here and there the dull thud o
an improvident axe preparing the kindling
for the kitchen fire.
The day was well under way in Sila
Rogers household before the majority o
his neighbors had reached this point. TIL
COWS were MIXED and turned into the gree
lane TO make their own way to the pasture
the steady whirl of the grindstone and tn
sharp ring of steel told that the moment
before breakfast were being made the mos
of, and even at the table there were fe'
words spoken, and no useless lingering
But after breakfast Silas Rogers took dow
the leather covered Bible that had been hi
old mothers daily companion for eight
years, and all the family sat reverently dow
to worship.
The golden moments might speed as the
would, but no day in that household bega
without its portion from the Bible. 1t migl
have been lingering recollection of Hetty
song, it might have been one of those cele
tial providences which we call chance whic
led him to read from the gospel the story
the wandering sheep and the lost piece
silver. 1t is doubtful if any of them we
very deeply touched by it. 1t was famili
story to the good wife, and she could N
keep her thoughts from straying anxious
to the loaves rising perilously in the pan
while Hetty glanced at the clock and secret
hoped that her father had not CHANGED upt
long chapter. The reading came abrupt
to an end with the heavenly rejoicing ov
one sinner that repenteth, and with
earnest though homely prayer the servi
was ended.
Abner and Reuben almost stumbled oy
woman sitting absorbed in the door-ws
Silas looked at her but did not stay
question: and when they were gone she re
and said abruptly, win you give me SOL
breakfast ?"
Mr.. Rogers looked at her. She was t
and not uncomely woman of about thir
but with something indefnably evil abe
her face. The hard mouth, the bold, defia
eyes repealed her, yet seemed as if at a
instant they might break into scorn
tears.
"Who are you ?" asked the good wi
coming nearer with the pan of bread in
hand. Again the face lightened, grew hi
and then yielded with the sudden decls
ton;
81 am the piece thai was lost"
Martha Rogers had not particle of poe
in her nature, but she had the most profor