Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1881-09-07

bleach. By and by there is a stir in the
lilac Jungle; a woman comes cautiously
out Of her hiding and steals away to
the barn. The cows are lying here and
there under the long shed, sleeping, per.
haps, in a cows uneasy fashion, but with
"A certain air of motherliness and content
about them. They do not even wonder at
he late conner as she treads her way
among them, enters the barn. mounts the
scaffod already well filled with the sweet
new hay, and is soon asleep, hearing now
and then a broken twitter from the rest
less swallows under the caves, or per-
chance faint, sweet voice singing, with
lingering pity in his tone,
sick, aud wounded, and ready TO die"
Who can tell when the summer day
begins? One instant dusky silence,
cool, moist, and fragrant, hanging over
the hill, the next burst of song from
some tree top, caught up from a hundred
green coverts, swelled and repeated and
prolonged in mad chorus that presently
settles again into silence. Then the slow
stir of life awakening, the hustle among
the poultry, the lowing of some impatient
COW, or the sound of her companions nip
ping the short, juicy grass, the unwilling
creak Of a rheumatic pump handle, and
here and there the dull thud of an i'm
provident axe preparing the kindlings for
the kitchen fire.
The day was well under way in Silas
Rogers household before the majority of
bis neighbOrs had reached this point. The
cows were milked aud TUNED into the
green lane to make their own way to the
pasture; the steady whirl of the grind
stone and the sharp ring of steel told that
the moments before breakfast were being
made the most of, AMI even at table there
were few words spoken, and no useless
lingering. But, after breakfast, las
Rogers took down the leather. covered
Bible that had been his old mothers COM
panion for eighty years, and all the family
sat reverentlY down TO worship. The
golden moments might speed as they
would, but no day in that household began
without its portion from the Bible. Ii
might not have been one of these celestial
providences which we call chance, which
led him to read from the gospels the story
of the wandering sheep and the lost piece
Of silver. 1t is doubtful ii any of them
were very deeply touched by it. 1t was a
familiar story TO the good wife, and she
could not keep her thoughts from straying
the pans, while IleLty glanced at the clock
and secretly hoped her father had not
chanced upon a long chapter. The read
ing came abrubtly to an end with the
Hevenly rejoicing over one sinner that
rel entelh, and with an earnest, though
homely, prayer the service was ended.
Abner and Reuben almost stumbled
over woman sitting absorbed in the
doorway. Slas looked at her, but did
not stay to question, and when they were
gone she rose and said abruptly, "Will
YOU give me some breakfast"
Mrs. Rogers looked at her. She saw a
tall and not uncomelv woman of about
thirty, but with something indeiably evil
about her face. The hard mouth, the bold,
defiant eyes repealed her, yet seemed as
if at any instant they might break into
scornful tears.
"Who are youp' asked the good wife
coming near with her pan of bread in her
hand. Again the face lightened, gre
t hard, and then yielded with the sudden
declaration:
Il am the piece that was lost"
Martha Rogers had not Il particle ol
poetry in her nature, but she had the most
profound reverence for the Scripture there
fore the words both puzzled and shocked
her. But she WAS a woman not to refuse
bread TO the hungry, so she placed tuoc
upon the table and motioned the woman
to Il chair. with brief Set up and eat"
, All the time that the woman was eating,
and she did not hasten, her eyes followed
, the mistress and Hctty, until Martha Rog
ers' eyes grew nervous and sent Hetty tC
=. red up the chambers
As soon as she was gone, the WON II
tut ned abruptly from her breakfast.
"Will you give me work to do?' she
; demanded rather than asked.
"Who are you?' asked Mrs. Roger
again, simply to gam time,
If thought YOU knew. | am Mol
; Pritchett; they have turned me out OF my
} house; burned it over my head, and the
eyes grew lurid with evil.
, What can you do?" aske Mrs Rogers
} feebly.
ANYTHING that woman can do, or a
man. | can work in the field with the
: best of them; | have done 1t many time
but | should like to do what-to be Ike
other women"
Are you Il good woman"
| The question came straight and strong
! without anv faltering. She had heard o
l this M1ll Pretchett, woman who llveC
5 alone in an old tumble.down hut belov
8 the saw mill and won a meagre living b!
4 weaving rag-carpets, picking berries 70
sale, and. it was suspected, in less reputa
d bic ways; but Martha Rogers took no stoc
+ in idle rumors. If she had not divine com
S passion she had something very like diyin
l Justice, which is altogether a sweeter thin
d in its remembering of our frame than tn
t tender metcies of the wicked.
t The woman looked at her curiously. A
y first with a mocking smile, then with
IS sulen, and at last with Il defiant expires
II sion.
k rs it likely?" she said, tercely. "4
It good woman? How should | be goo
n woman? tell you I'm the piece that w;
n lost. and nobody ever looked for me. If
e was a good woman, do you suppose
e should be where | be-only twenty -eigl
1t wears old well and hearty, and every doc
II in the world shut in my faceP | tell u
), the man that wrote that story didn't kno'
y women; they don't hunt for the piec
l. that's lost; they just let it 60. There
,f enough on 'em that don't get lost"
if Poor Martha Rogers was sorely pei
Is plexed all the more that her way had lai
e so smooth and plain before her that sh
'e might have walked in it blindfolded.
rs this was lost piece of silver it WAS nC
ID she who lost it; but what if it were th
,e Masters, percous to His heart, and
i'd careless hand had dropped it and left it
n lie in the dust? And what if He bade ht
TO seek it and find it for HimP Should 81
I'd dare refuse? On this very day. when 81
is needed so sorely the help which she lool
lie ed for in vain, had not this woman bee
is sent to her door, and was it not pla
er leading to Providence? 1t is a blesse
Id thing for us that we are usually driven
e. act first and theorize afterwards, eve
llf though the afterthought sometimes brins
ne repentance. The bread was ready for Il
oven and the wood-box was empty.
You may fetch in some wood" 81
Martha Rogers, and the woman prompt
to obeyed. filling the box with one load of h.
rd sinewy arms, anu then stood dumbly wal
n ing. Hetty came into the kitchen al
er began to clear the table, but her moth
lg took the dishes from her hands
in Go upstairs and fetch big apron al
ona ~ vonr SwepninU cans and then VI