Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1883-07-11

'iiih oiiV 10, DIG Woh SluuSo ~ "
help her sisters husband in a pinch"
Gall and bitterness-gall and bitter
ness. But, thought poor Martin, with
a sigh, how was Stephen to know all
that was come and gone?
Esse's light step, on the passage
way, sounded at this instant; and she
came in, dressed in a picturesque
brown linen blouse; her hair still shad.
ing her forehead, like a fringe of floss
silk, after the old, graceful fashion.
"Yes," she said brightly. when her
brOther-in-law's errand was stated to
her; "Of course you shall have it. ]
owe you as much as that, l think,
Thomas, were it only to erase from
your memory that last scene of our
parting How defiant and insolent it
was, to-be-sure" and she laughed the
sweetest of mellow laughter. "But |
insist upon it still, that my theory was
correct; a woman can work, without
becoming drudge"
"Perhaps she can," slowly and un-
willingly admitted Thomas Martin
perhaps she can! But it didn't use to
be so, in my mothers days"
And he sighed to think of poor Ruth,
broken down in the meridian of her
days, by the cruel necessities that drive
the wife of an American farmer to her
doom. Was it his own fault? Per-
haps it was.
Essie's thousand loan was the straw
which saved him from fgurative
drowning. He paid the interest,
bought new flock of merino sheep,
and weathered the storm.
And the next year when Essie came
to the farm to assist her sister, for the
first time she found Ruth sitting on
the piazza, and watching the little
lambs play in the sunshine with listless,
heavy eyes.
"Yes," said Ruth, 81 can't work any
more. But Thomas is very kind. He
don't grudge the hired girls wages
and ne is always saying he wished he
had taken more care of me in the old
times. But it's too late now. You
were right, Essie when you said you
wouldn't stay on here, and help with
the housework."
Yes" said Essie, fondling the thin
hand, which lay on the arm of the
rocking-chair, Il think l was right" >
Helen Forest Grares,
The VicerOy and the Baly.
A characteristic anecdOte is related
of the late Lord Lawrence, when as
the new Viceroy of India, he was re-
turning to the country in which his
best years had been passed, He was
in bad spirits, partly from sea-sickness;
partly from the lack of friends and con.
genial natures around him, partly from
the feeling of the heavy responsibilities
which he had assumed in comparatively
weak health. A lady was returning to
India with her infant child, which sho
utterly neglected, and the baby took its
revenge upon the passengers generally
by squalling day and night alike. They
complained in no measured language
to the authorities, "Steward, throw
that baby overboard!" was the cry
which came from many tempest
tossed and sleepless birth. But the
nuisance continued unabated. AT last
the new vceroy, perhaps he saw in the
child, half-unconSciously, slight re-
semblance to his lost Bertic, gave it a
large share of his attention, and would
take it for hours together on his knee,
showing it his watch and anything
that would amuse it. The child took
to him, as he to it, and to the great
relief of the passengers was always
quiet in his presence. "Why do you
take such notice of that child?' Asked
one of them. "Why, to tell you the
TRUTH" said the viceroy, that child is
the only being in the ship who l can
feel quite sure does not want to get
anything out of me, and so 7 take
pleasure in its society" How much
of the kindness and simplicity of a
great nature is revealed by this simple
story.