News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1888-07-05
The MiIham ChiIdren's Tramp.
By r. H. STEARNs.

school one day, she brought her mother
letter with strange postmark. But,
indeed, any letter at all was such q
novelty to the family in the little brown
house that they all gathered around Mrs.
Milham as she looked it all over on the
outside, with many speculations as to
whom it had come from, and at last cut
away the end Of the envelope and drew
it forth.
''Read it ont, read it out, mamma %
ehorused the three excited children; and
so their mother began, slowly aud won
deringly:
'BLUE Corners, August 8, IS.
'' RESPECTED NIECE BETsEY' (Who on earth
can it be from ?)-'This is to inform YOU that
my late housekeeper, Cynthia Brown, departed
this life three weeks last Wednesday. Eeing
in sore need of some one to fill her place and
hearing from mutual friends that you were in
reduced circumstances, l would be pleased to
visit you next week-Saturday. if agreeable
and see if satisfactory arrangements can be
made between Us. / hear that YOU have three
children, but hope to be able to endure them,
unless too noisy and rude. Respectfully yours,
:" HAYWOOD PATTERSON.
''Wer, of all the things!" said Mrs.
Milham, as she came to the end of the
page; ''this really looks like a special
providence!"
f'Who is If, mammal What does he
wantl" cried the children. wild with Gu
riOsity as their mother sat back in her
chair, deep in thought.
1t did seem as If these children, with
their bright, earnest faces and affection
ate ways, would be anything but
drawback to any ones happiness. Yet
it was with much Ilisgiving that Mrs.
upon the effect of their entrance into
Mr.. Harwood Patterson's peculiar
household establishment.
"Wko is it, children2 Why, it's your
great uncle Patterson, your fathers IN
Gle, that lives in Blue Corners, up !
North. He's an old bachelor, rich, but !
very queer He has always lived alone, /
with nobody but housekeeper, in a
great big house. l never saw him but |
lust once-right after your father and !
were married. He seemed then to take |
quite a fancy to me; talked to me more
than he was accustomed, folks said. So
now his old housekeeper is dead, and he
wants me to go live with him and keep
house for him! And it all depends on
whether be takes a notion to you, chill
dren. He is coming to see Us next
week. Will you be very quiet and lady
like and good-na tured, so that he viii
be willing to have you go back home
with him?"
fsOh, yes, yesI" cried the children.
'We'il be auJuI dood,' said Bcss, the
youngest.
''I guess you'd better look out for
yourself, Miss Bess, said Garry. 81
guess if you get one of your naughty
D.
leave you behind.
"He won't, neither, retorted Bess.
But these symptoms of an outbreak |
were quickly dispelled by Mrs. Milham. |
"There, there What bad way to
beginl Garry, don't you tease Bess
about that, now. All of you had better
keep practicing to be quiet and good all |
the week, so that you'll be perfect in it /
next Sunday"
1t did seem a providence that the let
ter came Just at the time it did to this
family. Mrs. ATilham was widow with
these three little girls; the oldest eleven
years old, the youngest four. For two |
years she had been struggling on, trying
10 make both ends meet-to pay her rent
and bring up her children respectfully.
But it was hard fight with these three
hungry mouths to feed and these grow
ing bodies to clothe, and the outlook for
the coming fall and winter was very dis
eouraging. Warm clothes were yet to
be bought, and woodshed and potato bin
to be filled, and it was hard to lay by !
anything from the small wages that she +.
was able to earn by her daily work. And |
now there was q chance for an easy and |
respectable situation where her children
might be warmed and fed and clothed
and get n good education And yet,
from what she knew and had heard of
this old uncle, all depended on the way
in which he might be first impressed by
those children. They we're, plainly. the
only doubtful point in his mind. "But
I'll never give them up" said Mrs. Mil
ham to herself "I'll starve myself first,
and Uncle Patterson can keep house for
himself. But oh if / can only get them
10 keep quiet and not offend him It's
the first time, really, that l ever wished
hey didn't have quite so much lie IN
hem. Goodness only knows what they
won't take it into their heads to do and
say ! Well, I suppose [ can trust the
Lord TO do what's right, and needn't
ToTrv too much about it. We've been
Jared for thus far, and we will be still.
In the meantime the children, IN
state of great iubilation, were discussing
The wonderful prospect which had so
opened before them. To 80
md live in Blue Corners-a very me-
iropoIs compared with their little vii
age-to live in a big house with q rich
lncle-what more in life was left to be
desired
'It's like fairy story said Llzzy.
Don't you know how the fairy god
mother came to Cinderella and changed
her old dirty clothes to q silk dress, and
gave her the glass slippers and took her
lif to the ball / always thought some
hing of that kind was going to happen
10 u.s.
Lizzy was a great reader of stor1es'
md very fond of day dreaming.
"WilI Uncle Patterson give US SIX
iresses 2" asked Garry.
81 shouldn't wonder, answered !3N
Lizzy, confidently. 81 think he IL t'He
great fancy to us-we'u behaVe 80
adylike, YOU know-and Just give Us -
OTIS of things, most anything we want.
sTm doin' to make him dive me a ste
) dishes" struck in Bess, " na VII VII
ilk dwess, and a gween P"""0
aHe won't give you anything. Bess aSs
IIilhem." said Garry, eff you don Z n"'0