Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1882-03-29
VOL. XXXIX.
Up in Vermont.

Here is one of Fanny Fern'sn old
sketches resurrccted from paper OF TWEEN
ty years ago,
great green mountain in front Of my win
lowp That's what I said to myself as l
watched the shifting shadows upon 1t. from
my pro tenn. home in Brattleboro. Perhaps
that accounts for my lack Of reverence,
who knows3 hug theory that no one
can be born In the vicinity of any such
grand challenge of nature without having
a corresponding elevation in his own soul !;
and the more I am laughed at for it the
more obstinately l cling TO 1t. Why! tha,
mountain is Just like church TO me. 1t
bushes all my nonsense and bids me tread
with soft and reyerent steps toward the
Heaven that lies beyond. Why do l rise
so early here, when the day Is so long In
the country? Do you think l would miss
the gradual lifting Of the mist from that
mountain? Or that first peeping of the
newly awakened birds? Or the soft rosy
tints that edge. ono by one, those gray
clouds? Besides, do not find the day
long in the country. | could sit lazily
under that tree all day in q trance of cat
like. purring enjoyment. But I'll tell you
what rouses me out of it: that group OF
city ladies, who come sailing past, inside
those enormous hoops, ,freighted with round
trimming, and square trimming, and
pointed trimming, tripping daintily lest
an atom OF dust should invade the precious
dry goods. Why, ladies. should you altSags
travel like n turtle with your city house
on your backp Surely those sweet-scented
clover blossoms might suffice without
shocking us with "patehouli, or any Of
those horrid perfumes that stand in place
of good honest soap and water. Ladies'.
avaunt! You are not half as pleasing rs
that spotted toad hitching down yonder
path, in his awkward independence. And
now little wo-and-a-half year old toddles
up to me on the grass and says, Tell me
what the trees arc whispering aboutp'
She's tho girl for me. DO you suppose
those dressed up ladies ever have such a
thought as that? But why should l grum-
BILE? Surely they have the worst of it
compelled to exhibit so many yards of silk
and lace, and so many flowers and feathers,
each day from tho rising of the sun to the
going down thereof, and to keep them
Immaculate during tho process. Ladies,
JOu my GluSSlO pilJ 4 Nloh toulu
provide you all with n comfortable home
in yonder lunatic asylum. but q humane
regard for the directors of that institution
prevents. 1t is strange 10 me that every
body don't live in Brattlcboro. There is
not an ugly walk or drive in the whole
town. I'm exhausted admiring things. I
sat ON the coachmsn's box yesterday, and
forbade him, as we drove along, to tell
me Of any moro Broadbrook roads," or
cascades or waterft lis, till | was able to
bear it. That's the state of mind I'm in,
and Vermont is answerablo for it. How |
love to poke about and explore q new
place! to pick handfuls of flowers, and
then throw them away for something prct-
tier; to sit down on q fenco when I'm tired
and ask anybody l SEQ milking a COW to
givo me some. They are such nice people
up hore. Why good Providence makes
some people to take hold Of things by the
right handle, aud others to tip everything
they touch bottom upwards" he only
knows. am so glad to sec that the re.
pulsive old country church-yaad is being
done away witll-that old church. yard
overgrown with nottles and mullen-stalks,
where the COWS browsed. and where never
tree or flower humanized the place. Hero
there is cemetery, on rising ground,
commanding one Of tho lovcliest mountain
and river prospects that ever was soon
carefully kept and ornamentcd with vines
and flowers, and every way lovely spot.
{" Our BabH" Our Children" "Ny TPife."
How quickly even the stranger heart re.
spends to such inscriptions, whether those
nearest to it walk In this sweet sunshine,
or lie peacefully with their eyes forever
closed 10 it.