St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1886-09-30
MISS sNOwFIELD's LEADIN'.
BY SARAH L. ARNOLD.
Boston CongregatlondIsst.

I1lUu, 50 Sic Sitlu' NOJ Jildb ItiiS W ds
seldom the case. Dear, no! There
was always a something, she often
confessed to Nudge, or announced to
herself in the various talks which she
had with Miss Snowfield, when that
lady was busy at her machine and no
one else could hear. Now she was
sitting on the braided mat before the
stove in her little room at Mrs. Browns
holding Nudge in her lap. Nudge had
frisked through a happy kittenhood in
the little old kitchen at Lyme, and
when the home was broken up and
Miss SnOwfield came to Hope Village
to work, Nudge came tOO-her chief
comfort in the lonely days that follow
ed. She liked to sit by the fire in her
room and talk with Nudge about old
times, of which nobody else knew,
"NObOdy but you an me here, Nudge, y
she would say, "but up in Lyme they
know, and well go and make a visit
in the spring, when the slack comes
Then Miss SnOwfield would tell Nudge
how they would go, and when, and
the great eyes would blink so know
ingly, and the gentle purring speak
such appreciation, that she always
ended by giving the cat a hug and
saying, "Midge, You are one great, big
comfort ~
Tonight she strOked the sleek coat
and little by little disclosed her trou-
bles, half doubtfully, and sometimes
hardly knowing she was speaking.
at eases my mind talk to it over, you
know, Nudge, an you do seem to I'M
derstand." Nudge purred in sympa-
thy. ga body does get sort of lone
some without anyone round who cares
to lend an ear TO 'em now and then.
An I've been troubled all the week
sence Sunday an that missionary
meetin' | went to i'll the evenin'. Nudge,
the minister he looked right through
an through me, as if he'd been sent a
purpose to- ask me; an he read out
loud an clear, She reacheth forth her
hands to the needy Then he kind o.
paused, an seems - Nudge, do you
hear P--seem's if he said: DO you,
Miss Snowfield, do yOuP My heart
come right up in my mouth, an first l
knew ! was hidin' my hands under my
shawl.
at was home missions, you know,
an he told about the sufferin' an pow
erty right by our very doors. Folks
with heart needs, he said, as well as
wantin' food an clothes. Then he re-
peated, kinder low, Christ's own words
about helpin'-'Ye have done it unto
Me- | forgot the minister an every
one else, an seemed s if | was sitting
all alone in that vestry, an the Lord
Himself was standin' by me an askin,
Have you, Melviny SnOwfeld, have
your An couldn't say yes an l
couldn't make no excuse. l tried not
to cry; an | hurried home sOOn's
meetin' was over. I've thought it all
over sence. Things come up before
me like picture-the old days at
Lyme, an the home, an mother, an
the neighbOrs, an all. | was Melviny
there no one ever thought o. calling
me Miss SnOwfield. An mother an
me was so happy, livin' all alone to-
gether. Folks said we was more like
sisters than like mother an daughter.
That come o fathers dyin' when L was
a baby, an mothers havin' no one but
me for so many years. She got in the
way of askin' me bout plans as soon
as | could talk. Then she had that
shock, an for ten years she didn't
leave the sittiG' room. L was glad
enough to wait an tend, an somehow
wasn't troubled much, for the Lord
said plain enough, 'This is just the
thing l have planned for you to do,
Melviny.' An all the time | could
know as how mother was happier hav-
in me to take care of her.
"'YOu've been good an true, Mel
viny,' she said that day, the last time
she talked with me. | remember just
how the red light showed through the
bare elm branches, for twas NOvem-
Der, an bout dark. An then all the
cold an dark seemed to come inside,
for | was alone"
Miss Snowfield was sObbing now,
and her words were broken.
"Pve been alone ever sence. When
Squire Moses come an told me that
mothers sickness had eat up our little
place, l wras'led long and hard, not
KNOWN what to do. Pm sure twas a
leadin' that found me this place in
Packard's - down to Hope Village.
There wasn't nothin' for me to do in
Lyme-an' Lyme wasn't the same
place without mother. For what you
love in place is what makes it seem
so near heaven to you. If mother had
a-been in this little room here, l
wouldn't ha' grown so lonesome an
Miss SnOwfield is this minute. Do
you understand, Midget l wras'led it
all out, an it took me all the week. |
resurrected the old Melviny that used
to live in Lyme, an | set her to havin'
a square talk with Miss SnOwfield,
stitcher of linins in Packard's shoe
shop, Hope Village.
Essays Melviny, You're a selfish,
y. L II - : I
WHATS the matter3 You've changed
sence you lived in Lyme No, L amt,
says Miss SdOwfield- that's me, Nudge,
mo, l amt. | was always the same.
Only the Lord gave me mother to do
for in Lyme, an then He took her
away an left me alone. | come down
to Packard's, where l don't know no.
body an nobody cares for me. l get
to my work at seven an stay till six, |
an it takes me all can rake an scrape |
to keep soul an body together That's
the way l tried to excuse myself, |
Nudge. But I'd brought the old Mel
why to talkin', an she stood her
ground. Whose fault is it that you
don't know more folks, Melviny that
you always followed your leadin's to
kind words now and then
How do you know the Lord hasn't got |
some one waitin', this minute, for you
to show a kindness to? Perhaps you
can't give much, but you can do.
What's spoiled you, Melviny Snow
field, in stopping a-dOin'. AS if the !
Lord had planned your days to have
so many stitches in 'em an nothin'
more =
'That's the way the old Melviny
talked, Nudge. You see she amt
mite dead vet We've talked il all |