The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1844-08-23

oIach lashes uroopeu over his pale cheeks
he stepped back and tainted. There he
lay among the blossomng flowers, his
cheeks pressed TO the cold grass, and hi:
book Rugged TO his bosom even in his in.
sensibliy.
Poor George did not come home ill
nightfall. Then he stole away very soft.
y to his bed in the garnet for he wished
to escape observation, not from any era
ven fear, but because he would not pain
his mother and his little sister, whom he
loved with all his heart But few mo-
mems after, the door was softly opened,
and GEORGE George /! repeated a low
sweet voice. 1t was his mother, and the
poor fellow heard the kind gentle tones of
that aiiectlonate parent, he set up in bed
and began to sob for the first time since
his father so brutaly beat him. Mrs.
Damer had brought up the supper, hoping
to find him there, and yet almost fearing
and tr embling to see him. She sat down
the plate of bread and butter and casped
her boy in her arms and wept with him.
lie was her lavorte child, always gentle
and aft ectionate, where he could be so, he
was nevertheless ill-treated by the father,
and OF course the more doated upon--the
more loved by the mother. When he
found she was crying, the brave little fell
low, with desperate effort, forced back
his tear, and winding his laceraied arms
around her neck, he kissed her and tried
10 soothe her.
Don't cry mother, dear mother, am
not much hurt said he, looking into her
face and trying to smile, but the wet eye
lids drooped, and he laid his face in her
bosom.
You do not deserve this, my noble
boy' she murmured kissing his forhead !;
your father will be sorry for it some day :;
yes, my child, God will bless you, and
when you are man, such as my heart,
tells me you will be, HE will think of this
and weep, and tremble, and pray for it to
his very grave
Il know it. mother, told him so,' said
the boy, raising his hands, his eye spark
ling with an unearthly light-'but am
glad Of it now it has opened new world
to me--a light broke on me even while |
was standing there, with the whip play
ing like scorpion about my shoulders !;
mother, mother, ii almost dazzled me with
briliancy-and then, and then-molher
how old am p
Fourteen, my son. said she, looking
on her boy with astonIshment, for she
had never heard language like that from
his lips before.
yes this morning | was fourteen, but
| am much older, MOTHER said he with
drawing his arms from her neck and look
ing strangely beautiful as he turned his
eyes upward and clasped his hrnds on his
bosom-'I tell you mother, lis the pulses
Of the heat and the thoughts ofthe brain
that make the time, and oh how fear
fully have mine lived since morning
Your boy is almost man in heart moth
er-yes,' he whispered, i will never
trouble father to horsewhip me again,
can take care OF myself now
Mrs. Damer drew back with tears in
her eyes and scarcely dared to answer the
child before her. A mighty change had
indeed come over hiul--the spirit of that
poor, abused boy had suddenly grown in
power and might, until he was as much
above his oppressor, as the stars are above
the earth.
At that moment little Mary crept softly
in, in her night-gown, with large piece
of apple pie in her hand. she was
beautiful child, with deep loved blue eyes,
and ilaxen ringlets playing over an open,
innocent brow. The traces of tears were
on her ripe rosy cheeks, but she smiled
as she saw her brother sitting up, laying
the pie on the plate, she climbed upon the
bed, and winding her little arms about his
neck, kissed him with the tenderness of
warm hearted child.
Il have brought you some pie, dear
George said she, Il didn't want any sup
per myself, and save it for you, because
know YOU are hungry, Father shan't
whip you again, he shan't he stunt she
continued, sobbng aloud, while the poor
boy pressed her to his heart and began
to cry himself, a, this new proof of ailec-
ton.
mo, no. sis, he won't whip me again,
never-never
Il knew he wouldn't! would 20 be-
tween you, and he might beat me to death,
| shouldn't care,but he should never touch
you again, my dear, good, kind George.
| am sure you are ten thousand times bet