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The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1877-1885, March 14, 1878, Image 2

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iDicii ricimrlmciil.
V K 11 E .
ittca fT The farmer an.l Median c,
M 1
"And now I will gather my roses
Anl twine in my long braided hair,
And Willie willcouie In the evening
And srnili when he see me so lair .
Out rang the pure sweet voice and
suitin" her actions to the words, ere
Herbert stoojd, and plucking a pale
blush-rose placed it among the braid
of golden-brown hair that framed the
oval of her sweet, ilowcrdike face
with its cream v complexion, tender
woman's mouth and great laughter
loving eyes. AVomlrously fair she
Jooked.standingin the old garden with
the dying light of the June sunset
lingering about her. rI he click of the
latch made her turn suddenly, and
gathering the dainty fold of her blue
dress about her she" ran swiftly down
the walk. , , . ,
Why 2 titer, what brings you home
b0 " she stopped suddenly, startled
by the wan, haggard face her father
turned toward her. She never re
membered seeing him look like this
but once before, and that was ten long
years ago when he had taken her. a
child scarcely eight years old, in his
arms and carried her to press her last
kiss upon the death-cold lips of her
dead mother.
"Father, father, what is the matter.'
He took her upturned face between
his hands and gazed sadly ami tenderly
at her for a moment, then letting his
hands fall at his side, he turned away
with a bitter groan.
4t Father, speak to me; are you ill
"Yes, sick at heart! Oh my poor
child, my poor child, that I should
have lived to see this day ! You whom
1 have guarded so from care or want,
that you should be brought this! I
could have borne it for myself, but for
you oh my God!" and sinking on a
rustic seat the man covered his face
with his hands.
Father, what is it? Tell mo what
it is you dread for me ; 1 can bear it
if you can," and her arm fell lovingly
upon his shoulder. Slowly he raised
his head
Vere, I am ruined.' You know I
was security for a friend for a large
amount, the money is due and I am
un ible to pay it everything will be
sold and we will be jxnnilcssr
For a moment the girl stood still
dazed and horrified ; it seemed like a
dream she, the heiress of thousands
this mornina beggar at sunset ? But
one irlance at her father told her it
was no dream. In a moment self was
forgotten.and winding her arms about
him, she drew the gray head to her
shoulder saying softly, "My poor
The pent up emotions of the man s
heart broke lorth and throwing his
arms about her, he burst into hoarse
...t;.t..t (ientlv. as if he were
fiitiu. . l.ihl she soothed him till the
storm of grief was over, then sitting ing eyes fixed on the wall, her hands
lieside him in the last beams which had clasped convulsively. She could not
risen upon her an heiress, Vere heard weep, her tears seemed frozen in their
her fathers story and how at its setting beds, she tried to pray but the words
that sun left her penniless. died on her stifT white lips, so there
" Ynd now Vere, how shall I ever she lay in her silent, despairing grief
tell mv wife?" and his hands clutched while tho moon climbed slowly up the
.i-t-.u'wU- dark blue heavens and dropt to its set
lie i wUoi l -.-rrti -, , , ,
" I will break it to her ; come, the ting. Toward morning she sank into
sooner it is done the better." a kind of stupor from which she was
"My noble girl, how bravely you aroused by a loud knocking at her
I....,- it i ' ii.i l'nsi'i ner itnuer v uuu i
drawing her arm through his, they
I .1 - lb . . -. ;
walked slowly up the broad gravel
walk leading to what was but yester
.i.iv tliMir beautiful home. A Deal of
childish laughter broke upon the air
uml two children, aged ten and twelve
till VA v v 7 , ,,
Bpraiv down th steps and bounded
iwayacross the lawn. Mr. Herbert
looked after them mournfully.
"They, at least are safe, Vere, your
step-mother's property is settled on
her and your step-sistera so the credi-
tors cannot toucli that; you and I are
the only sutferers." "
"Thank uou; answered mo gin ler-
On a lounge in the library they found
Mrs. Herbert, a delicate worldly wo
man whose great redeeming virtue
was her love lor her indulgent hus
band and her two children by a for
mer marriage. Placing her father in
a chair, Vere went and kneeling down
at her step-mother's side, broke to her, that threatened her, she devoted her
as ently as her own aching heart self to her father, watching his every
would admit, me news ot lier lather s
failure, then leaving them together she
went back to the garden to be alone
with her own sad thoughts. She gazed
at all the dear familiar objects, touch
ed into new beauty by the rising moon,
and tried to realize she might no long
er claim them for her own. Oh, it
seemed too hard to be true that she
who had been reared in the very lap of
luxury and shielded from even a breath
of sorrow's blast must in one short
hour lose all that had made life beau
tiful. No, not all, amid her dark
thoughts one ray of comfort stole like
a heaven sent messenger. "uome
what may, sue mused, "l have still
the greatest treasure left; alter all
what is wealth weighed against a true
manly heart? The law may take all
else from me, but it cannot take his
love," and the girl almost smiled as
she paced up ami down the moon-lit
walks, rejoicing, noi over ner loss, but
that she at last had a test to try the
much vaunted love of A lllie Grey, her
old playfellow and whose bride she was
to be in the autumn.
"Of course 1 shall oiler to release
him, but " a step on the gravel be-
hind her and she turned to find the
subject of her thoughts before her.
"Wandering about like a restless
little spirit as usual! I wonder if you
were ever still a moment in your life,
queenie r criea me young man gaiiy,
taking her hands, then noting the sad
face and quivering lip, he drew her
toward him, asking tho cause of her
For a moment she was silent, it
secmed as if she could not tell him,
but with an effort she regained her
composure and having once begun she
gathered courage, anu looking into nis
face with her great, earnest eyes, she
told him all, then withdrawing her
hand, she ottered to release him from
. their pniMcpmpnt. Knnwincr n wt11
Q"0 ' ----w
how .he should have m U d had their
po-itions been leveir-1, .she had t
lor out' moment doubted him; what
wa-s her surpri e tlu -iff ore when in
stead ol the old protestation.-, of hve,he
vtood before her silent ami m-'tionloi-s.
Ol couisc Willie. thi w ill make a
"leat different o with the world, no
Cue will oxicct you to keep your
promiso and marrv a ponmlesji girl
when vou thought to find an heiress,
and I am willing to release you.
'Of courbc it can make no difference
in mv love for vou' he an.wered
tdowlv then htooping to pluck a
llowe'r from the In.rder, he murmured
something about entangled estates,
and nothing willing to ask her to
share his poverty, all of which she
could not understand, but she listened
with a dull pain at her heart. wondering
if she heard aright and if after all he
did not love her. But when he turned
and reproached her with not caring
for him, saving she had coaled to love
him and was glad of any excuse to
throw him over, her eves were sud
denly opened and she saw how base
and mean was this man to whom she
had pledged her life. Knowing well
that what he said was only a loop-hole
to excuse his own conduct he did not
dare look into the honest eyes bent so
indignantly upon his face, but stood a
little wav from her his head bent over
the ilower he still held. She heard
him through without a word:
" Vou know there is not a syllable
of truth in all that vou have said," she
said with slow, withering scorn, and
he quailed before the contemptuous
light of the blazing eyes. ' You know
that I have never, for a moment, been
false to you at least to what I thought
you were. I came here to-night with
a sorrowful heart to tell you of my loss
believing it was my love, and not my
monev, vou sought ; now I could re
joice over that loss, since it has been
the means of showing me your real
character before it was too late .
Enough!" she continued, haughtily,
as he tried to interrupt her, and draw
ing the tell-tale diamond from her lin
ger, she dropped it deliberately at his
feet. "In future we meet as strang
ers ; never presume to address me
otherwise, Mr. Grey, I have the honor
to wish you good night," and sweep
ing him a low, mocking courtesy, she
moved away.
For a moment he .was speechless,
then starting forward, "Vere ! Vere !"
he called after her ; but the haughty
head was not turned, nor the firm,
swift pace slackened. Yo gods!
what a spirit the girl has ! a perfect
little tragedy queen. I'll declare, if
the estates were not so mucn emuar-
rassed, I'd marry her money or no.
Perhaps, after all, the alTair is not so
bad, and she may tako me into favor
again. But before I ask her, 1 11 see
how much her governor has lost, for,
li sue is reany a ueggar a vigoi-
ous pull at the delicate mustache cov
ering his upper lip, and a shrug of his
shoulders, concluded the sentence as
he turned to the gate.
Vere did not pause till she had bolted
herself in her own room, then all
power of motion deserted her, and
with a low moan she sank to the floor.
She neither cried aloud nor moved but
after that moan lay, her wide despair
"What is it?" she started at the
sound of her own voice so different
from her former ringing tones.
" If you please, misses says you are
to come directly, marster's very sick
and they've sent for the doctor."
1 t . if a 1 1 t
un a strong enori sue roiueu ner-
self and went to her father's room,
The physician was before her and she
found him bending over the bed while
her step-mother was sobbing hysteri-
cally in a chair. The strain upon Mr.
Herbert's naturally weak constitution
bad proved too great and before the
iosc ne .is &pweeiue&3 irom juirai-
"He may recover with good nurs
ing, the doctor said to Vere. " but
that is all that will save him.1
" I will nurse him myself," the girl
answered, steadily, and putting awav
all thought of herself and her own
heart sorrow, before this new grief
mouon, amicipaiuig ms every wisn
and scarcely leaving his side for two
!ong weeks, at the end of which time
she was carried almost lifeless to her
own apartment after having, with her
own hand, closed the staring, stony
eyes that would never smile upon her
again in life !
"When Vere again opened her eyes
to conciousnes3 she was in a small room
entirely new to her. The furniture.
the few pictures on the wall, all were
strange, rsear the Y.indow, through
which streamed the beams of the sink
ing sun and beyond which she could
see the far-a-way hills Hushed with red
and yellow bv the early fall, sat Mrs.
Herbert reading. She looked up as
she turned her page and seeing the.
great wistful eyes fixed on her from
the bed, immediately came forward,
" Where am-l?' whispered Vere.
"In Vine Cottasre. our new home.
You have been ill for a long time, but
are better now and will soon be entirely
well I hope," answered Mrs. Herbert
gently. " You must not talk any more,"
she added as Vere parted her lips to
speak, "try and sleep again."
Too weak to resist, Vere swallowed
the sleeping draught her step-mother
I held to her lip9, and turning on her
puiow sne was soon sleeping quietly.
bhe had been ill a long time. June
roses were blooming when she was
first taken, and now September was
nearly gone : her wholo constitution
had been broken up, and her recoverv
was necessarily slow and tdioui
"When she was strong enough Mr llr.
bert told her everything how all of
ner lather s property, save a small sum
expended during the girl's illness had
gone to pay the securitv nml hw
from her own purse, she had bought
I nml fnvinclm,! i.;- .... . i
iutuii.u incu pivr5tl.il IlUIIlt.
Vere heard all in silence. t.o weak
even to 1m wail her own deflate Mtua
tion As she lay on her invalid s
couch, unable to exert herself many
wav hv bad ample time for thought,
ind in the thoughts lived o r
again all her iat happy life, from the
time she knelt at her mothers knee
and lisped her baby prayers to the
bitter present. How vividly before
her rose that mother's image as she
lav on her death-bed, blessing her
weeping husband and child. Then
followed the four or live years she hail
spent with her father in their elegant
home on the banks of the Hudson ere
his second marriage. Vere had not
iMvn prepared to welcome her "new
mama" and step-sister, younger than
herself, with any degree of ccrdialit ,
but for the sake of the father whom she
loved. 3Irs. Herbert was kind to the
daughter, so this new arrangement
made verv little dilTerence in ere a
life Then came the time, only a short
vear ago, when she had put school
hooks awav and come out mto the world
the beautiful, courted heiress and belle.
There was no laugh more joyous, no
eye that shone brighter no heart more
generous and warm ! With her frank,
merry ways, she was the centre of
every circle, and the idol of her fath
ers heart. Then her mind came nearer
the present, and she thought of how
mid last May's blossoms, her heart had
learned its first tender lesson of love.
nM nlavmate. V line
Oliu uiv-i. j-v. " - - i J
from his European travels,
on1 him for weeks with
her thoughtless, willful ways, had giv-
en her heart to his Keeping, ucucmi
l.o xcniihl be "tender and true." But
now she knew that, though he might
have cared for her in a degree, it was
her monev which had been the chief
attraction ; that was gone, and with i t
his love, and with all her woman s
prid she scorned his tickle, mercenary
lionrt .mil thanked God that the fell
blow which had cost her wealth, home,
friends: father, love ave, and even
,.,, ad not been dealt in vrin since
i i i i 1 t 4 vi i ji-o
it had snown ner, m m imc vm
the man she had endowed with the
qualities of a god !
AW.iriK- tho weeks wore away, and
bv the close of autumn Vere was able
to walk to her father s grave, in the
village church-yard. As she knelt by
the quiet, lowly mound, and thought
of the great unselfish heart lying be-
neath it, and how uesoiaio nei me .i3
xvitlimit him. she nraved in her agony
that she might die and go to him ; but
God docs not listen to sucn prayers.
"I must do something," she said to
her step-mother, "I cannot live here
in idleness and let you support me :
besides, if mv thoughts are not occu
pied I believe" I shall go mad ! " And
so it was arranged that sue snouia
take the place of the governess, whose
form w.mnut. and teach the children.
She entered thankfully upon her du-
ties, since they kept her inind irom
dwelling on her sorrow, and took from
her a galling sense of dependence
which she had been made to ieei in
many little ways. Sadly and wearily
t..H winter nassed. and spring at last
began to emerge from its icy shadows.
l'ossessed or a nveiy liiiagnuniwu.
Vere conceived the idea of expressing
somo of her conceptions upon paper,
and already many of her articles were
in the hands of eminent editors, as
"neeentpd matter." and her name be
gan to be known in the leading papers
of the dav.
"With the snrinc a faint tinge of color
came into the wan cheeks, and her
step lost somewhat of its accustomed
listlessness, but the old brightness had
irone forever from her life, and th
merry ring from her voice. Thoughts
of the past were fraught with suller
inr: so. with a resolute will, she put
cz 'A
them awav, determined to live down
the dull pain throbbing at the heart.
Toward the close ol Jlay, urs. Her
bert's brother returned from Califor
nia, loaded with wealth, and offered to
educate his neices, and leave them his
property if their mother would make
her home with him in his elegant
i x- -v- l- mi
uovise iu ew ior. xnis was a
tempting offer, especially as .Mrs. Her-
, . x - j
bert was growing very weary of hwr
quiet life in the village, and she
accepted it with joy.
"Of course vou will go with us.
j j
Vere, my brother wishes it." But
1 ..! 111 I'll
ere declined, ueciueuiy ; me children
would no longer need her services,
she said, and she had no claim upon
their uncle. Besides, a return to the
city could only be full of painful asso-
ciaiions, ior ner winters had always
been spent there, and she ronld not
bear to return a mere dependent whe e
she had formerlv lived, court Ad nml
admired. The children pleaded hard
J 1 J 1 A t . 1
ior ner to go, out sue was nrm, and
Mrs. Herbert, seeing the evident ad
miration with which her hurl. dor
brother regarded the sad, sweet face,
11 ! il
ami ureaoing me consequences that
.--. c . ,
nugm resun irom too ciose a compan
ionship, urged her no more.
" But what will you do, niv dear ?"
44 1 do not know," answered the girl,
wearily ; "you know I have promised
to go to Amy for the summer, and by
the tail l shall get something to do.
Amy begs me to stay with her, but I
cannot accept a home from her anv
more than irom you ; any labor is bet-
1 1 1 a
ter man dependence ;
And so the trunks were Packed, the
good-byes said, and the last link broken
that bound Vere to her old. bright life.
As the lonely girl paced the deck of
the little vessel which was to carrv her
to her friends for the summer, she
tried hard not to think of her desolate
situation ; every thing was so changed,
so dark and bitter she had no hope
for the future, and tried to put it from
hertl loughts. At Sunnyside she was
welcomed warmlv bv hr i.i.i .-i.,-i
friend Amy Hall, and her husband,
and made to forget, as far as possible,
her sorrow. There were several young
people gathered there for the sum
mer, and me days new bv with pic
nics and excursions, all "on a small,
quiet scale, but none the less merrv
for that ; and even Vere. under the
genial inlluence, regained a little of
her former gaiety, the color deepened
on the warm cheek and the lithe,
graceful figure recovered somewhat
of its old roundness. But still the fu
ture hung over her like a dark shadow
for she had been unable to obtain em
ployment of any kind. She worked
i. i i i . t
itaru wiui ner pen, dui she was voung
and inexperienced, and it would be
some time ere she could depend en
tirely upon that for a livelihood.
Shedwuded to the breakfast table
one August morning feeling ery
much dejected, w heii glancing her tr
over the morning s laper. she aw in
it column, a iragraph which ti.x-1
her attention immediately:
- Wanted, a companion f'-r an inva
lid lady address Mrs. U. T. Raymond.
Klton.Va." ,
That dav's ist carried an applica
tion from "Vere for the situation. She
waited in feverish impatience for a
reply; it came at last.and Vere was en
gaged as a companion by Mrs. Ray
mond w ho would like her. if conve
nient, to begin her duties in September.
And so when the summer was dy
ing and fall begining to creep on, Vere
bid good bye to her Sunny Side friends
and went out alone into the "wide,
wide world."
At B. Vere left the railroad and
took the stage for Elton. There were
no other passengers she was glad to find
and leaned quietly back in her corner,
she drank in with the keen pleasure of
an artist the lovely scenes through
which they passed. After three or
four hours drive, during which they
seemed alternately climbing to heaven
and plunging again to mother earth,
the lumbering old stage drew up with
a grand llourish Ik fore the small inn
of Elton, a poor but picturesque. min
ing village in tho heart of the Blue
' Please miss, be you the young lady
to go to the Hail? step this way.miss."
and Vere followed the sable old serv
ing man to where a pretty spring wagon
was waiting to carry her to her new
home. After seeing about her 'boxes '
the old man swung himself into the
seat in front of her and gathered up
the reins.
"Misses would have sent the kerridge
to fetch you," belaid apologetically,
"but its been broke, leinme ee, nigh
on to six years. Mars Ralph aint never
at home "hardly now, ami misses she
never goes away, so they aint got no
use for a kerrige" Never Uen in these
parts before ?"
" Ah ! you ought to have known the
hall like 1 did. in the good old time
that's gone ! 'Twas a gay place then,
for Misses always had some one a-stay-ing
with hers "and Mars Ralph lived
here all the time. Ah them was happy
times ! happy times ! But taint so now.
misses is always sick and Mars Ralph
aint lived at home regular like for nigh
six years: the miners and tenants com
plains niightly 'bout it, but he never
stays more than a week at a time. All
this 'longs to lum," continued the man
pointing across the beautiful valley
with his whip, "anil hereis the Hall!"
A noble old building it was with its
stacks of white chimneys, its gabled
roof, and its broad passages and spa
cious chambers. At the arched stone
entrance they were received by the
white haired butler and Vere was
ushered into a large, elegantly fur
nished drawing room, and left to wait
while her arrival was announced to
Mrs. Raymond.
During her long journey her heart
had not once failed her, her predomi
nant feeling being that of joy at her
independence, but now when she was
about to be presented to her future
employer, a sudden shyness seized her
and she heartily wished herself back
at Sunny Side or even with her step
mother in New York, anywhere rather
than in Mr. Raymond's drawing room.
Fortunately she had not long to wait
ere she was summoned to that lady's
sleeping apartment, like the drawing
room large and handsome, but utterly
devoid of any homelike comfort. As
Vero entered Mrs. Raymond raised
herself on her elbow from the bed
where she lay, the pillows scarcely
whiter than the delicate,high-bred face
resting on them. There were many
silver threads among the dark hair
drawn smoothly from the forehead, but
the eyes that met Vereis were gentle
and soft. She greeted the girl kindly.
" Excuse my not rising, Miss Her
bert; there, take that scat. Did you
travel alone ?"
" Yes."
" And were not afraid !, you have a
great deal of courage."
There wan a pause during which the
sick woman regarded the petite grace
ful figure opposite her, very intently.
Do you know.Miss Herbert, that I have
been lying here for the last hour spec
ulating as to what you looked like?
I had quite decided that vou would bo
very larje and a blonde, I find how
mistaken I was. You are younger too,
than I thought for," she continued. I
rear you will find the hall verv lonely."
"Oh no : lam sure I shall like it verv
much," replied Vere quickly.
i trust so my dear, you have a gen
tle face and a sweet voice, and I think
we will get along nicely. But you
must be very tired. Jackson, this is
M its Herbert, take her to her room
and see she wants for nothing: I shall
not require vour presence tilltea.so go
and rest vourself, mv dear."
When Mrs. Jackson the motherlv
old housekeeper had left her alone,
Vere proceeded to change her travel
stained dress. As she combed out her
hair before the long mirror she paused
and looked at the rellection.
"A gentle face?" she said musingly,
"it was not called so in the old time, I
think the lady across the passage would
change her opinion if she saw me in
one of my tantrums T and she made
a wry face at herself to keep back
the tears that were dangerously near
the surface, for she felt very lonely:
this girl.who had ever been surrounded
by hosts of friends was now a stranger
in a strange land.'
She seated herself at the window with
a book determined not to think of her
..elf, but ala3 ! thought will not always
be bridled and many times during the
next hour she was "compelled to dry
the heavy tears from her eyes ere she
could continue her reading. At last
however the afternoon wore awav and
she was summoned to tea in .Mrs Ray
mond's room.
" I have ail my meals here for I am
unable to descend to the dinning hall;
tis more than six months since I quit
ted this room,' said Mrs. Ravmond
with a sigh.
Vere hoped she would soon be better
and able to go out; Mrs. Raymond
shook her head but smiled at the sym
pathizing face opKsite her, "Not "un
less you instill new life into me, Misa
When the little French clock chimed
nine, the K w Ui.tW ..iv- V le .1
"Read in i bapt r, mv ih-ai. it will
In' one of our duties every Iilht .
Thank you. .die coi.tiini'-d a.- Wie
i-io.d the Uik. "J.i.hI !:i;:!:t. ! In
i-Ute and dep x.undlv.'
- And ended Vt re's tiit evening at
the Hall.
In the morning die erterod regular
ly ujon her duties which after all
wen very li iht. She re: id aloud for
several hours each day, sorld ami
wound the worstids and talks for Mrs.
Raymond's embroidery, and with th.
doors set oi:n so that the music could
llo.it up to the sick rm above, shu
played soWtions from the church ser
vice or other sacrtnl pieces on the piano
in tho gloomy old drawing room, and
when tho clock struck nine and Mrs.
Raymond was quietly in bed, Vero
read acliapter from the Rible ami sang
hymns in her rich young voice till the
lids dropped over the eye of the weary
invalid. The rest of her time was at
herowndispoal,and with Nero.a fierce
blood hound whose love she had gained
by sundry kind pats and words, she
spent much of it in long rambles
through the valley or along the moun
tain sides, always returning with a
strange llower to Ik examined, or some
little adventure to lo told, seated at
Mrs. Raymond's ide of whom she
soon grew vry fond, and into whose
heart she so wound herself that the
sick woman often said:
"Vere, how have I ever managed to
live without you ? you are the very
sunshine of my existence ! "
There was a pretty little room join
ing the library and owning iqHii the
terrace through glass doors; this, with
Mrs. Raymond's jHrmisim ami Mrs.
Jackson's aid, Vere fitted up into a
charming sitting room. Tho furniture
was all light and simple but iu the
most perfect taste, and above nil there
was such an air of snug, home com
fort about it that Mrs Jackson declar
ed it did her heart good to look at it
but the shook her head when she
found Yore's wish was that Mrs. Ray
mond should occupy it.
"She don't even leave her room
when Mr. Ralph is here." Rut Vere was
not to be discouraged.
"We shall see," she said, and it ended
in Mi's. Raymond's spending the day
on a couch by the "snuggery ' lire in
stead of in her gloomy room up stairs,
"where she was losing her strength
day by day and would one-night die of
the horrors," Vere declared. When
Mrs. Jackson saw the wonderful
change, and how strong and cheerful
her mistress was grown under the
girl's influence she shook her motherly
old head again with a smile, saying:
"Surely Miss Vere, youaroa fairy ! "
"Yes, and I think we should call her
fairy Sunshine," answered Mrs, Ray
mond fondly.
But beside tho knowledge that her
services were appreciated at the Hall,
Vere had another source of happiness.
Wandering one day upon the moun
tains she lost her way. and stopping at
a miner's cottage to enquire her path
she came, for tiie first time in all her
young life, face to face with poverty
in all its bitter nakedness, and saw how
poorly the poor live. The half clothed,
half fed children, the patient, care
worn wife, the sternfc hard working
father, all appealed to her strongest
(7b be continued.)
Spring and Work.
',Y MRS. c. i. k.
The spring of ltf7? seems to have set
fairly in in Orange county. The llowcr
pots are full of daffodils and blue
hyacinths and Japan quince, the violet
stands are full of violets, and there is
a tendency to let the fires die out in
the middle of the day, ami to sit with
windows open. Out of doors the air
is smokv from innumerable little bon
fired in everybody's gardens, where
the corn-stalks and dry grass and
trimmings from the shrubbery are
being burned. Every now and then a
rooster crows somewhere in the dis
tance while the man who is spreading
the manure on tho beds and digging it
in, stops to take off his hat and wipe
his forehead as if hot weather had
come. I fear we shall have a plenty
of cold yet, but meanwhile we may as
well enjoy the soft and fragrant air,
and get our peas ami onions in the
ground. In the woods I know the
alder and the dog-tooth violets and the
liverworts are in bloom along the
creek, and I dare say the trailing
arbutus will be found before these
lines are in print. Even world-worn
and wearied people, even lifo-long in
valids, take fresh hold on life in such
days in spring ; they come out and
sniff the air, and sun themselves, and
thank God they have lived to see the
buds and blossoms once more. A puff
of rather stronger March air than
usual will send them shivering back to
their fire, wondering why March must
always be windy. I have never heard
the theory advanced which accounts
for high winds at thi3 season ; their
use on my premises is to make every
body cros3, to litter the yard with dead
twigs and branches from the trees, and
to accumulate a pile of dry leaves juht
at my front door htep.
The spring season with all its charm
and seduction to out-door life yet
brings to most housekeepers an in
crease of work indoors which keeps
them more closely confined than is at
all for their good. Happy she who
has had the forethought and the energy
to use many of the long winter even
ings in getting beforehand with her
spring sewing. Happy the family
where such work is enlivened by tho
voice of a good reader. How fast the
fingers lly, how unconsciously the
work progresses while thought, or
fancy, or feeling aro aroused and
l imulatfd. i-:Mk- ,itt- I,. , ..
net dd all "vi i N i tii .i: ! , .
ton 1. hip ought U . ,v- i . ; .
library, if for no . t hrr r., ,
bt.;hteM h!e fr tho w ?n i
their intelligence, and :.; .
inter ss.
With jtiirt of the hu. i
which w ill I neslHl at tii- ,, ,
change, bno, and off on, inj. .
is plenty of time for .r, ,u
time for tlowcrs, time fi r w
the children, and for refn
ImkIv nnd mind lofore h.u, , ;.
and tho general turn-ov r f tj.. . .
ies usual when spring 1 -ir . ;
not sure, however, to whs;
Southern housekeepers ob-v-r.r
peculiarly Yankee custom, i..
and ledroo!iis I know art tu:-.
side out. but whether ell. ir. v
houses, kitchens and ninlio.....-
descriptions are thus visit. .
uughly ransacked and whit,.-w
and put in order, 1 cannot
certainly ought to be d,.... 5!. ,
establishment no matter L.,. .
Not an old barrel, or U. . r
I, it tf iiUnl titlf .i.iill.) t., ) .
light, and tho pla e ulm. ,
swept and ducted. A c il u
a dwelling hone vs here l.in.j
dant and there u no need ton,
space, is a piece of fully , ...
inexcusable among intelligent j.
And built as carelessly as m. -t , f
cellars are, they aro lit only t.,
mould ami damp and entail i hf- ;:
affections ami low spirit- , .
dwellers in the houo. 1 new-.-,;.. ,
a cellar stairs without a cn t ;
depression of mind. Tho-. u j...
so unfortunate as to posses- u
should feel called Upon for t:.
taking of all t hat is stowed t i . i -.
let no dark corner f it nm..
visited and unclcansed.
Wo ought to make n;n
whitewash about our farm lu
fences. It is certainly ehe.ip .-:,
.1 l i l 1 t: r . ... . .
aim w oiim iuju mi j i in. i
appearance of the house, tin- !
and all the premises. If our ! '
generally would use it tho apj
of the whole country would
proved fifty per cent. When .:n
fields are green ami our whit' ;r. .
fruit blossoms instill thvir
think no country can show a i
spring than ours. If wo ha 1
farm-houses and fem es edin.: :
green slopes how greatly the l.i. :
would be improved. I rom s. nu
in Chapel Hill we have v. i ! v
tended views of tho neighlx r;'.
try half a dozen farm hous.-- v-
seen at once among the inn-,
one them is colored in any w .
paint or whitewash, and when - ;
comes not one can b distinui
the distance. Where wo cum'
paint I believe in whitewash 1: '
applied indoors and out at lea-. .
year. 1 append below as se t- '
.. l : .... . . .
ooupio oi it?iper ior nianiu i .
from a lxiok of standard auth
hoiiiehold matters and then f-:
1 . 1
fcumaoiv goou. l am m.t
howpver, on looking tiieinn '
ono of them calls for some ms:i
which country people ar im .
keej on hand, and no me in'
sure to cry, Oh, you donk' v.
am I to get it.' The ordinary
make whitewash is simply t" '
water on the lime and htir a :
lime is well dissolved an 1 '
Make it about as thick as cream.
add a little varnish to make
sonie add a little mohisses,
the lime with sweet skim milk
of water which is said to n: .
wash very smooth, and n ."
rubbed off. The are irr-nl. '
of making it, and people m .-'
for themselves as to tie .r -Sometimes
in the country we . -to
do anything. I have he, . ...
lasses tried and it i- n;.!';. .
addition, giving a go... m a;:,
tho wash.
Take a half bushel un-ia- 1.
and slack it with boiling '
ering it during tho pro'-. "'
add a peck of salt dissolve! -.
water, three jKMinds ground :
to a thin paste and put in !
half a pound of jxvdered w)..::
a pound of glue dissolve'!
water. Heat the whole i; -and
apply it as hot as Kj-ai:-----
Slack your lime with h"t 'v '
is nearly saturated with
a few handful of lino whit- -has
been sifted. Have ii 1
sietence of cream. You
low ochre or any colorin' ' '
choose for the outside of y -A
light stone color, or i -
I haps preferable to pure wh:'
J This second recipe, t'i: -j
cheapest, is aid to ia-t '
look as wwll lui oil-paint
Underskirts are made n ;u "
add nothing whatever to '
of the scanty and clingin
over them, their only p1"'"" ':'
being to keep out the tr ;- -Thev
are cut only to the ',
sively gored, except jut a' ,
and then llounceh of diffei'en.
are buttoned on according t' ! -
of the dressed with whica
worn; but all of them mu-i ! i
front and must "fun out ' I" '"

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