Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-12-28
The Household Gift.

Wish yer happy New Year Gimme
a cent lhas is what heard, all in
breath, 10 clear New Years morning, when
the silver steel air was full OF the tingle of
frost and the tinkle Of bells, and the snow
was criaP And fresh as If new bank-notesa a
foot deep ybvered the ground. This is what
saw an eightyear-old in ragged coat
some bigger boy had shed cap suggesting
a drow14h muskrat that never came up;
hands Nre; face ripe, unless, like black
berry, 4%ss red when 1t was green and
with th4 ,ook OF having been put to the
grindstoe and sharpened. Poor little skir-
misher, 200 early on life's line of battle,
whos5 i14a of happiness could dwell in
took.twenfy times the amount Of stock
in his supreme content that he asked for,
and he went down the street on the bound
like snow-bird shouting " Now Jenny can
have the jumpin' Jack she cried for, and
lots OF his sentence was rasped in two as
he turned sharp corner and was gone.
And / said to myself "Three of us
Jenny, Tatterdemallion and land quar-
ter goes round Joy for two and pleasant
thought for one." II was good invest
ment, and | lost pound of lead out of my
my shoes, and went on-thinking.
thought of another Jenny who died so many
years ago. The little mound above her has
subsidized, and hollow in the sod marks the
place, as if earth smiled and showed dim
pie every time she thought what treasure
she had there, and that was all the time
You know what that hollow means. 1t
means that, save little dust and dim out
line like the "form a hare leaves in the
grass, her shapey body is not there any
more; that it has gone out into the bright
and living world; that it has entered the
green grass and the roses above it like a
soul; that it may be wrought into the wing
OF sparrow or the plume of pine; that
in the small grave there is no sembance of
Jenny at all. She was New Years gift
the year round, and she lived but twelve of
them, for on New Years morn she was
born, and on New Years day she died. 1t
was just as the gates of morning were
swinging open. Fading like flower, fair
as any lily, SO patient and accomplishing all
the while, the chrysalis grew thinner and
thinner before our eyes, until it could hold
casket was emptied with a little sigh. /,
that write this, watched her breathing
through the night" She had known for
many days that voice was saying, Come
unto Me-" and she was obeying as fast as
she could. All along she had been praying
that she might live to see one more New
Year. She had her answer. As the dawn
drew on she asked, " Is it New Years yet ?"
And the pale mother rose to part the curtains
of an east window. "Don't, mother n" ex-
claimed sister by the bedside, as if she
half fancied the curtains gauzy barrier
might stay the dying girl minute. 1t was
too late. The drapery drawn aside, there
were the doors of day set wide. Jenny's
eyes, 80 large and dark, looking out from
her pure, pale face, opened full upon the
celestial gates, kindled an instant as with
thought, little start of glad surprise,
flicker of smile, a little sigh, the white eye
lids like pale rose leaves slowly closed down |
upon those sweet eyes, whence truth had al |
ways looked out as from two windows of |
heaven and Jenny had gone home. There
had been six in that upper chamber, and
lament was heard n the ga dawn sSa Of i Tie %orn
ing. But not for long. There was no need. |
Her sweet influence could not be banshed |
from the home she left. Her brothers grew
gentler, her sisters lovelier. The New
Years gift was with them still. Jenny was
no perfect child, for there never tods, but
she was always fulfilling child's dear mis-
sion: to keep the key of our hearts all safe
and bright, ready at an instant's warning TO
turn them in the'locks aud open to every
holier thought and tender recollection, and
so we grow young evermore. That mothers
hair crowns her brow to-day with silver
bands the daughters of music are brought
low," but her girl of long ago yet makes
melody in her open heart. The other chill
dren are blown abroad like thistledown in
the wind, and to this day when they all
come, children and children's children, to
the old homestead for the New Years, the
aged mother sets plate at the New Years
board for her that is gone. Her place will
never be lost out of the charmed circle while
that mother lives. But it makes nobody
sad, neither is this melancholy story. 1t
is forget-me-nots and immorteles it is
roses and lilies; it is anything but cypress
and willow.
Oh, children young and old, ait is not all
of life to live, nor all of death to die" Be
somebody's New Years gift like Jenny, of
blessed memory.--Good Words.