The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1896-08-26
A New England Lady.

A new Eng ldHu Dhugs
AS l write the words, quaint, small
figure steps noiselessly out of the past
a slight figure, too, though well-knit,
weighing scarcely ninety pounds. The
face is gently old and withered like
late-hanging peach, keeping still
shade of its youthful pinkiness. The
hair, brown and fine, with a wide part
ing and snug twist that curls when re-
leased, is kept in unvarying place by
an old-fashioned BACKBONE. Two
small, fiat curls are held close to the
delicate ears, partially covering them,
by modern side-combs.
The eyes, gray-blue and clear, look
out on a world that has been hard to
their owner, who has not repaid it n
kind. She must have wondered often
at its hardness in the years before she
accepted it bravely as something in the
general plan.
The gown, clean and becoming, is of
fine, old-fashioned calico-always of
calico and always clean-chocolate
brown in color and lightly sprinkled
with tiny sprigs of white. A bingham
apron of blue check is tied with
smoothly-ironed tape-strings around
the waist, which is trim as young
girls. About the neck kerchief of
thick muslin, that might be cousin to
the Breton Golf, carries with it the
thought of spotless purity that always
attached to Aunt Lois.
She was aunt to the town-never in
vited, but always hidden to its festivi-
ties, to take the part she loved best
without which, tea-party, sleigh-ride-
supper, winter dance, and wedding feast
would be incomplete. When she ap-
peared,l serene and capable, RESPONSE
bility dropped at once into her hands,
and the satisfied house-mother took no
more thought for the day or the NOR
row.
Aunt Lois was by no means the
grande dame, the fine lady, of whom
we think and speak vaguely. She was
too fine, too grand, for careless speech.
From her early youth she had been a
bearer of almost incredible burdens
borne in silence, with such dignity and
sweetness that they became blessings.
"You see, never had rheumatism
or any ailment, not even headache,
so l could always work right along day
after day. My back was strong, or l
couldn't have done great many things
that were necessary. Many time
carried my first baby two and three
miles to do ouse-cleaning, and back
again at night. He was so good /
could put him to sleep and tuck him
away in rocking-chair where nobody
could sit on him. So you see he wasn't
much hindrance. But 1 went a little
early and stayed later, of course, tc
ha I NJ
thankful was to be able to do it,"
Aunt Lois had mothered not only
eight children, but a good-natured
worthless husband to boot, who sawed
the wood for home use and kept the
kettle boiling whenever he could be
spared from the more hilarious pas.
times of the tavern. No work was toe
hard or too disagreeable for Aunt Lois
no weather too wet or too cold. Sh;
was the happiest perhaps at those EN-
barrassing times when one family was
moving out as another moved into
house, and she, as capable high priest
ess, had charge of the lares and penatet
of both.
"But what are you going to do TO
your dinner?" one would ask. ether,
is positively nothing TO eat in the house
since that last load went, not so mucl
even as a spoonful of teal"
SNOW, child, don't give it one singh
thought" Aunt Lois would reply, com
fortably. "There's kettle full of no
water. It's better for most folks thai
tea, you know. | never was much of
tea-drinker; and put cracker in m
pocket, too, this morning, for | knew
you'd be all stirred up to-day. It's al
l want, certain. 'Tisn't so easy t
starve as you think, and l never wa
hungry like some folks. l rather thin
the Lord knew when be made me wha
sort of work he'd laid out for me-"
And never was back more beauti
fully fitted to its burden. Ga being re
monstrated with one day for carrying
heavy basket up three long flights {
stairs, without stopping to take breath
she said, authoritatively, as she KEY
on: "Don't say word, don't say on
world Some folks don't have an
stairsl"
When Aunt Lois was in full vigC
and nearly seventy years old, he
youngest child, a lifelong invali'
died suddenly. This daughter was tn
cheerer and comforter of her life, il
heriting the high courage and fearles
faith OF her mother. The neighbol
near and far, in tender appreciation
sent flowers and messages to the be
reaved home, and two ventured to 9
in person, dreading, as all did, to Sc
this personilication of strength an
cheer reduced to the pitiful straits {
ordinary humanity when its last pro
is gone.
The little house stood quite by itsel
a mile outside the town which ha
gradually drawn near. Poverty marke
it for her own-a little e-story dingi
hroun honaa Ito tanapf woo ono ,