Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-10-26
An OyerMOrked Wife.

An OyerwOrked Wife.
A farmhouse kitchen, wide and pleasant,
the spring sunshine lying in bright squares
on the glossy floor, and the wind out of the
old apple orchard and the long line of snowy
cherry trees drifting in at the open door,
with its delicious perfume and breezy
breath.
A woman stands at the table, on which
are piled high the freshly-baked loaves,
brown and fragrant woman no longer
young, but whose hair is plentifully sprin-
killed. with gray, and whose form is visibly
bent, as if from the weight of years and
yet she has seen but forty years, albeit
years that could but leave their traces on
heart and brain," SO full they have been
crowded with the burdens that, once borne,
leave their ineffaceable impress for all time
to come.
The woman had been fair once. If you
doubt it, look at the blooming girl who
enters from the porch with ripping bur-
nished hair and glad blue eyes-the image
Of her mother, they call her, as that mother
looked twenty years ago. You have seen
two roses on their parent stem, one with its
creamy heart rich and fragrant, just open
ing to the kiss of the June sun the other,
a little lower down, faded, withered, and
with scentless leaves, sadly folding from the
light and dew neither of which is able to
renew its life and beauty; you have noted
the contrast, and yet have not doubted that
the dying flower, in its heyday and morn Of
bios soming, was equally sweet and glorious
with the now unfolding one. Andif Lillian
Grey is lovely and full OF woman's promise,
no less so was Miriam Grey standing in
the May sunlight score of years agone.
The woman looks at the girl with an inef-
fable light of love and yearning in her faded
eyes.
"Lillie," said she, tenderly, 81 finished
your dress last night except the lace at the
neck and wrists, so you can have it to wear
this afternoon
"Why, mamma" Lillian Grey rejoined,
al had intended to wear some other. l did
not wish you to sit up when you were tired.
You know | did not"
"But wished you to have it, DEAR" her
mother said fondly. "The other girls will
be in white, and | could not bear that you
should be disappointed"
Her daughter went up to her, and, putting
her arms around her neck, kissed her pale
mouth tenderly. 1t was little deed, but it
sweetened that whole weary day of toll for
Miriam Grey.
you had better dress before dinner, Lii
lie," her mother resumed, $50 as to be
READY When tney call LOT you.
al will help you first about the dinner"
the girl replied.
But her mother put her by with the assu-
rance that she could do quite as well alone.
The thoughtlsss though really unselGsh
girl left the kitchen, and tripped to her own
little chamber and began her simple toilet,
while her mother, flushed and weary, bent
above the glowing range, and hurried TO
and fro, from pantry to cellar, and from
storeroom to table, in her preparations for
the midday meal. Hurried Yes, she was
always hurrying to and fro in this domain
she had hurried for many years, would hurry
still, no doubt, until some day when the
power was gone, and the reaction came, and
the WORKOUT machine refused to longer per-
form its accustomed functions. Then the
hurry would be over.
Farmer Grey came in from the field
flushed and heated, his great brawny frame
in striking contrast TO the slender figure of
the woman who fitted about while he
washed at the great sink in the corner, and
then asked the stereotyped question
ais dinner ready"
eyes" she answered quickly. "You may
call the men,"
Without one smile for the weary face OPP
posite his own at the table, without taking
note that her own plate of food was scarcely
touched, John Grey ate his hearty we'll
cooked meal in silence, and, when he had
finished, rose from the table, followed by his
farm hands, and went out. At the porch
he turned back:
"You'll have to help me milk tonight,
Miriam" he called out. al don't want TO
stop the teams as long as we can see to
work, in this hurrying time"
1t was rarely the patient woman remon-
strated with her lords dictations but this
time vision of the labor to be performed
that afternoon rose before her, and she said
meekly
al hardly see how | can, John, as Lillian
is going away aud will not be here to help
me about the supper"
"Keep her at home, them" he said gruffly.
Our work can't be put off for her to run the
roads"
Which elegant harangue was simply equiv
alent to reiteration Of the previously pro-
nounced edict.
After the table was cleared, Lillian left
with the gay party of "picnickers who
called for her, and Mrs. Grey, after seeing
her off, came back to her domain with the
old weary look in her face aud resumed her
arduous toll. She had failed to finish the
weeks ironing in the forenoon, owing to a
few little hindrances, such as the skimming
OF hundred pans of milk and the washing
OF the milk pans, the working and packing
OF tub of golden butter, Mrs. Grey's but
ter was excellent and well 1t might be, she
worked so much OF her life away in its pro.
duction), the washing and dressing of the
children for school, the chamber work and
washing of dishes for large household, to
say nothing Of the Thousand little trihes
sandwiched between, each with its compile
ment OF dozen steps or so. And now she
resumed her place at the ironing-table,
clothing the bars in their white, spotless
apparel, and finishing only as the clock
pointed to the hour of four. Within the
next hour she must prepare the five O'Clock
supper, and skim the milk that is awaiting
her dexterous hand in the cool dairy, that
she may afterwards assist in the milking,
according to her masters explicit orders.
hard thing, this slavery, is it not
The sun went down that night in great
bed OF roseate pillows, the pink flush over
laying the heavens like tinted veil The
time had been when Miriam Grey would
have watched such a sunset with the raptur-
Gus appreciation OF sensitive, poetic soul,
when the glories Of the panorama of Nature,
spread out before her, called up such emo
tions as found expression in many a sweet
and rhythmic idyl, which those who read
were not slow to appreciate as belonging to
hiBh Vi CItdtlN6 anu imaginative
genius Has the olden fire all died out
within her, that she turns away from the
inimitable painting in full view of her win.
dow, and busies herself in the petty details
of her narrow kitchen, without another
glance2
Miriam Grey has no time to waste on
such indulgences. The setting of the sun
indicates that what remains of the DAYS
toll must be finished quickly, aud only the
half suppressed sigh that wells up from her
heart testifies that she is not content to shut
her eyes on the beauty and loveliness that
lie broadcast over all the sweet spring land
scape. And this is only one day-one o.
many, that follow hard one upon the other
each like unto the rest, with its UNMARRIED
unyieldng pressure of toll, its Implying
hurrying necessities, that like a whip o
small cords, lash the victim on in her flag
ging exertions.
The summer came-summer over all thu
hal. AZ.