The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-09-12
To All the Household Band,
Greeting!

BY SWEET BRIAR
Slowly, one by one, the floral sister
hood have responded to the caresses of
the summers sunshine, and at last my
next of kin, Wild Rose, has shaken her
fowery petals over us, and l can not
longer keep silent. My thorny branches
withstood the fierce blasts of the March
blizzard, and later, crowned with the fair
foliage of summer, waved in the sultry
breezes of dog-days. There have been
days and weeks of busy labor for hand
and brain since l greeted you last, and
far more wearisome days and nights of
pain and weakness, when neither brain
or hand could work. Good Mrs. Brown
has kindly given us of her good
thoughts when nearly all the rest were
silent, perhaps that we might the better
appreciate her. Never allow yourself
to imagine that you are of no use in
the world, dear friend Gf we may be
allowed to call you SOY. You will never
know here, probably, to whom your
gentle precepts in these columns may
prove the word in season fifty spoken,
but the good has been done, and will be
done, though you may never become
cognizant of it.
/ know how often the despairing
thought has come to me that my life
has been barren of all good results, and
how the little acknowledgements of
help that have come to me here and
there have been like the cup of water to
the thirsting soul. ! remember when
l was reading Mrs. Browning's eau
rora Leigh how, after the grand scin-
tillations of her genius, all common,
uninspired work seemed mean and
trivial. 1t was like a tallow candle after
the electric light. / said to friend
with whom / was discussing the work,
1t seems to me l can never take the
pen again; all my puny efforts are
as nothing, even less than nothing"
"Never say or feel So" answered my
friend, " for there are those to whom
your little poems are more than Mrs.
Browning's grand ones, and l am one
of them" l took that crumb of COM
fort home to my heart and many times
since, when | have felt discouraged,
and that it was but useless labor for
me to write at all, when so many others
could say all that l could say and so
much more and better than l could say
it, the thought that even my humble
effort might be the needed one to
some soul has encouraged me TO give
to others what comes to ME. If one
uninspired thought can not soar to the
empyrean heights of Mrs. Browning
and George Elliot, we may yet reach
some humble heart to whom their
grand thoughts would be dead Ian
guage. There is place for all in the
grand economy of the universe.
was glad to greet Samantha James
familiar signature once again in our
columns. 1t was lonely place for
awhile, as you know if you were not too
i'll to read, with all the floral sisterhood
buried under the snow, apparently be-
yond resurrection, and only Mrs. Brown,
Evergreen and Mr.. Hemlock saved it
from complete wreck and ruin. You
flatter me too much, giving me credit
fairer" than yourself. 1t made me
feel almost as young as | did when
"Stella admitted me to the charmed
circle of "us girls" AS for the en-
thusiasm, l hope to retain my enthusi-
asm for the good, the beautiful, the
true, though should live till my head
were white as our own mountains in
winter. No, Samantha Jane, am con-
WINGED you are not my double, else you
could never have committed those free
trade ASPIRATIONS to paper. share
your detestation of copper-heads, but l
have no divided heart in this campaign.
believe in the republican platform, l
believe in our candidates, and if the
law or my sex permitted, would show
my enthusiasm at the ballot-box. l
trust that Grandma True will come
often; her thoughts have the ring of
sincerity, if we don't always quite agree.
We can not all see things in the same
light, and this would be a dull and
monotonous kind of world if we could.
/ think Stella Boldwood has been fish
ing long enough to make report.
trust she has not been caught herself.
If her champion had not lately been
heard from, should imagine they had
disappeared together, but as he and
"Miss Skeeter" have lately come to
the front, trust no worse has befallen
Stella than good ducking.
Wild Rose should tell us some more
about that wonderful new baby in her
home. If there is one of the house
hold band who is not interested in the
subject, she may read politics instead
Mari Gold is too hardy to have been
winter-killed; where is she2