Year: 1875

The widow Minton had seen better days.
How far back wasn't exactly certified: but
she had seen them. Better days hung
mouldily about her, like the deiuced shreds
Of antiquated embroidery


The sturdy gossips of the seaside village,
who went about with their skirts tucked
up and their bare brown arms ready and
able for any work, looked askance at the
widow Mnton, with her pitiful meagreness
Of fasrect, her flickering black eye, and her
trailing old gown. They nudged each other.
and said, = Better days-Lord save us!"


But the widow did not trouble the neigh
bors much, nor they her. A body who
couldn't do heartsOme hands stirring was
best left alone to her brooding, and the
widows smoky little cabin, solitarily apart
on the sea-shore, was left pretty much to
herself and her boy Tom.


Tom was a sturdy, brown-faced lad. who
picked up a living by doing odd Jobs for
the bOatmen, and now and then taking
day for fishing. Tom had probably never
seen better days. The widow shook her
head over him-so stupidity content, poor
Tom! so beaming and good-natured over
beggarliness and hopelessness. A tall, we'll
grown fellow, with bare feet, a torn straw
hat, and a red shirt, Tom took the world
easily, looking with reverent eyes on his
mothers by-gone gentilty, but by no means
seeming to covet it for himself


The widow deemed it due to her past re-
spectability to be seen at church of Sun
day evening, and you could see the two
walking at twilight along thesands together,
she with her clean pocket handkerchief
folded over her old hymn-book and a cer
tain doubtful hesitancy Of gait, as if heaven
itself might be looking down critically on
her shabby black gown and rusty bonnet.
As for Tom, patient Tom, he went plodding
slowly after her, with his smiling face.
whistling to himself as he went. Always
patient, always plodding, poor Tom
Patiently falling asleep during the sermon.
and patiently listening open-mouthed to
the closing hymn, his careless bright face.
contrasting so oddly with his mothers
querulous and tear-worn visage. won for
him the sobriquet of the widow Minton's
rainbow.


The minister of the parish, mistaken
soul, deemed it incumbent to make call
on the widow; and, on charity bent, it is
said he unwarily offered to employ her
services in his household for season. He
deemed it his duty to rouse the old woman
to activity


lie did rouse her and it is ayerred that
he never found time to call at the cabin
again. Did he take her for a common
household drudge, or a low-b born field hand ?
She thanked God she had too much spirit
left yet to put herself under anybody's feet.
lie hadn't far to 90 to find scores of drudges
and diggers, but he might go futher before
he knew lady when he saw her.


1t might have been the afternoon after
the good mans visit that the widow sat
idly brooding at her cabin door. Her eyes
had wandering, far-away look, and her
face was keener an thinner than ever.
Beyond the bluff which sheltered her cabin
stretched fair line of sea-coast, the white
sand cleaning silvery in the sun. Far off
a group of bathers in bright dresses
froliclled between shore and water. They
came from the great hotel down beyond +:
she could almost catch the sound of their
voices as she sat slowly rocking in her door
way. 1t was quiet afternoon the air was
soft and soothing, and the widows heart,
so full of bitterness, felt itself sweeten and
soften in the stiffness. This part of the
shore, sheltered by its overhanging rock,
was seldom disturbed by intruders, but
presently the watchers eye eought sight of
young girl splashing and frolicking in the
water just beyond the rocks. 1t was a
pretty sight, the rounded arms, the curving
shoulders, the swaying, floating figure
And perhaps the old woman recalled with
a sigh the time when she was young and
blithe too, and had as CHEEKY voice as
that with which the fair swimmer hailed
her companions in the distance.


Gazing absently on the smiling scene,
reverie fell upon her, and when she looked