Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1886-05-07

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it was told that fortunes cup was always At
his hand.
One day he brought anemones and violets
to his Office window and TO a July sun. Hat
tie had loved the frail anemones, and Viola
was the second name Of Marion Flint.
But the lawyer had not thought OF this
when he paid his nickel to the flower girl for
the bouquet At mid-afternoon he thought
OF IT, for the violet was as withered az the
wind flower Could It be that Marion would
-? Again the heart nerve thrilled But
the flowers we're dead.
II did not not need TO be. The brilliant
Marion Flint had no idea to die OF love, nor
yet to live too we'll for love. But she made
no remonstrance, felt more.
Prof. and Mrs. II insom we're satisfied but
there was no love in the matter. Marion
wanted husband, and Tom wife-and that
was ALL
The wedding was named for the Wednes-
day of Easter week, and it was to be the
towns event of the season. The friends of
the contracting parties came out on Tuesday.
The groom was not expected untI the morn
ing
Early evening brought the professor a note
from his sister, few lines telling OF the
death of Mrs. Mary Blake, and asking that
the professor see the sexton about the grave
The moon was in the earliest days of its first
village burying ground.
The Blake lot was to the vest and a little
way out from the walk. Joe's plain stone
had very modest appearance beside the
shaft Of marble that stood at the head of his
daughters grave. There was space for the
other, and Jenkins would see it, the professor
thought. But he went not near in the twi-
light, aud the scholars eyes we're dim.
There was a form on the newer grave but
ha nd ha
Thomas Ransom, keeping vigil night long at
his wifes grave, had much to forget. In the
morning he was at the altar, and at night he
had gone to Albany with his bride
The home yonder on State street was
home of all that was of social lfe's Joy and
brightness. Who did not know it The
time of roses and the time of the Hudsons
brightning currents, and rose bloomed
| there
''Bloomed in a burst of midnight pain,
And plumed its life 10 a fair eIpanse
Beneath loves nursing sun and shine"
Rose Ransom, a blush rose, a damask,
child fair, aud fine and sweet. Thomas
Ransom felt touch a. of terror when they
brought him his new. born daughter, and he
saw that she had every feature Of his first
| love.
As Hattie Blake had looked, 10 looked that
child, and as the days and years came for
| ward, so came that strange resemblance OF
features. Perhaps Marion Ransom had
| dwelt too long over the face that she had
been wont to see in a dsguerreotype on her
husbands desk. Perhaps, but then it was
| well.
The pious Catholic lady hangs picture of
the Virgin in her boudoir, that the face OF
her babe may be madonna like, and the dead
| wife's face had worked similar worth. Psy-
| Geological science may essay explanation, If
such thing can be explained.
Eighteen years. A day in April, and at ST.
Peters an Easter wedding. The spacious
church was crowded with invited guests
when the wedding party entered The only
daughter of Judge Ransom was the bride,
and fairer face or more graceful figure was
never at the altar in this city. The groom
was a young manufacturer, handsome,
wealthy and popular. They took their places
at the altar and the judge gave away his
Rose.
The sun that morning had risen upon a
cloudless sky at noon, clouds had piled in
| dark and heavy banks on the western hori-
zon and as the officiating minister pronounc-
| ed the pair man and wife, one deafening
crash Of thunder broke over the city and the
rain fell in torrents.
| The reception at the home of the brides
father was a very elaborate affair, and among
| the wedding gifts was house on one of our
fashionable avenues, where, after the bridal
tour, the young couple began housekeeping
| II appearances indicated the truth, they were
as nearly happy as any one could well be
and if we we're to write the name it would be
said that there was no reason why its posses
sors should not have been happy.
The ninth day of the January of this year
of grace A day of drifting heavy snow,
and strong cutting wind of frostiest fierce
ness. Two physicians walked down Madison
avenue from the penitentiary, where they
had had days dealing with the plague.
The city clocks struck one as they turned in
to a we'll known cross-way and crossed Ham
ilton street shabby cross street. narrow,
dirty wretched. At the corner a saloon,
where the vlest of drinks are sold TO the
vilest of men and women. den, a foul
place, place past which the physicians we're
hurrying as If they had dread of the CON-
ing forth of something worse than the plague.
In the snow an object crouched-a woman
closely veiled, and trembling in the cold
The two men stopped.
She was gazing into the window through
the blind, and they could see what she saw.
A man, we'll dressed, and with blood on his
face was with a dozen companions at the
bar.
Both men knew him, and the woman, look
log up, knew the men. They went in and
led him out. The woman was gone They
took him home, and she-his wife-was there
to welcome him. her bestial drunken hus.
band.
1t was that man to whom on that Easter
time that Rose had been given. And he was
now drunkard. It was that woman who
had been given, the Rose who had stood in
the storm of wintry night and looked on
her fallen husband
On last Sunday morning child was born
in this city, and in the hour of its birth it
was motherless. The father was not there
He is named a drunkard. He has forgotten
his marriage vows. His is a life of death
The lady who died was the lovely bride of a
faded Easter, the happy wife of pleasant
home, the pale, trembling woman who shiv-
cred in the storm The life had been a change
to death.
A strange story, and strangely told. The
story of a broken life, sleeping to wakeu
where there is no death, sleeping when the
Sabbath sun arose in golden beauty upon this
world of ours true story a story of sew
eral condolences an every day story sto
ry of our city
saw Judge Ransom to- day.
He told me this story.
His name-well, it isn't Ransom.
He said in conclusion
"On the very day on which my daughter
became of the same age as my first wife was
when she died, she also passed sway al
bdny argus.
4. n.