Morning journal and courier., 1891-03-19
COMMUNICATIONS.
A Sketch From Life.

I wish you could have seen that little bowed figure in the wheeled chair that was drawn up before an eastern window in a pleasant New England farmhouse. That east window overlooked a long, shaded back yard, around which the barns, gran aries and other farm buildings clustered. The yard itself was populated with small villages of chicken coops, in which proud hen mothers with lively young broods dwelt; while chanticleer, pompously i'm portant and stepping lightly, ruled with absolute sovereignty the entire domain. There were numerous cherry trees, too old to bear, with blackened aud knotted trunks, which cast long fantastic shadows when the western sun was low in the heavens. A narrow path ran transversely across the yard, terminating at wide gate that led into an orchard filled with apple trees, which were also too old for fruit bearing. In short, everything outside, as we'll as within the house, corresponded with that small slight figure bending over her sewing.
 She was almost childish in size, and yet she was nearly ninety years old; with eyes so sharp and black, that neither sickness nor old age, had been able to dim their keen brightness. Her hair, still lu1uriant, was white as snow and was brushed smoothly back from the delicate aquiline face, and confined under black lace cap. She had been great worker all her life; the neighbors said she was "driver" and "little near," but now, for several years, her tired feet had refused her bidding, and were swollen and ehapeless, and she was confined to her wheeled chair; but still the busy hands worked on. Her husband died while young, leaving her with two little boys, and a farm to care for, which she managed so judiciously that everything she did prospered. Year after year she enlarged it's boundaries, adding acre after acre, as time went on, until now, as she looked from her window, she could see broad woodlands and beautiful meadows; fields of waving grain, and verdant pas lures in which peaceful COWS were grazing, that were all her own.
 Ceres may have taken the little widow under her loving protection, causing the gentle rain to fall when needful, and the
 
 I her harvests were bountiful, her crops | were always the best and commanded the highest prices Helplessly confined to her chair, as she now was, she still tried to | have supervision over all that was being l done on the farm. "I'm afeard them ! caeows haint ben milked this mornin', l hear em lowin' so," she would say, or "I | know them chickens hoint ben fed yet" or
 "ennyheaow I du think them cats will starve tn death" Then she would wonder l "ef John was agoin tn taeown tn day with
 that load of hay"
 1 She lad more energy in one day than many people have in lifetime; rising | early, sometimes at three, often before,
 and once at il o'clock; remaining up all night, and when the oil was burned and
 her light went out, sitting patiently in her
 chair, waiting for the daylight, that she
 might resume her endless sewing. Sc
 many carpets as she had made, and
 now she had commenced another, work
 ing at it with feverish energy, cutting
 each strip with careful precision, slightly
 rounding the ends she sewed together, that
 there might be no deviation from theil
 straight line, then turning down each edge l and sewing in tape form. It was tedious
 task, but she worked away bravely. w.
 liked tc thread the long row of needles fol
 her as we listened to her quaintly humor
 ous talk. She had much to say abou s'Mis Sturgis and her caeow;" now Mrs Sturges was a poor widow who lived alon' in a small brown house on the farm, ant
 she had recently lost a COW, which, witt her chickens and the little garden sh tended, was her sole support. Much sym pathy was expressed for her in the neigh
 borhood, and there was talk of raisini
 money by subscription for the purpose o
 purchasing another COW for her. As i t usual in country towns there were man 7 ideas about it. Some of the neighbor thought it would be much better for tn
 poor woman to take littl
 girl to bring up; others favore
 buying the COW. Our little woman
 however, thought it would be the height c l | folly to take the child, "Why," said she f "what dye spose Mis- Sturgis would d
 with little girl. She'd gret sight bette q | abaeout it?" We agreed with her that th
 COW would be the most sensible plan, a 5 though we never could see how the case e were analogous.
 @ There came a time last winter whe
 overtasked nature asserted itself, and or
 morning our friend did not rise as usua
 The boxes and baskets that contained ht e work, carefully rolled and folded in orde y were carried away. For long weeks sl 1t lay in bed, too i'll to be moved, her feeb .. hands, in the meantime, wandering . . and down, always sewing with invisib needle and thread, imaginary carpet rag
 At last one day, with thumb and fng'
 she was continually smoothing, smoothir r. the hem of her bed linen. It was a pitif l. sight for the friends who were watchir lo her. When asked what she was doin it she whisperingly replied ''Im turnin @ daeown." In a few hours she slept Il ia sleep that knows no waking. and for he s the leaf of her earthly life was turn' '" down.
 They folded her tired hands and laid b
 to rest in the church-yard, almost und of shadow of the church of which she h. .b been lifelong member, and where sl had been constant attendant, before u at infirmities of the old age confined her