Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1847-05-28

-lsr-EA
broke over the careworn mother, stirring a
throb Of wild anxiety. Before night came.
the last food in The house was gone, and
thoughts of begging darted across her mind,
MS her guileless Amy besought with infant
Importantly for bread but pride checked
the |humbling thought, and she hushed the
child asleep amid her tears. She had no
friends 10 appeal to-the only persons with
whom she was acquainted, were the family
in the house, part Of which she occupied
But so ungracious were the salutations,
which she, "the poor widow, in the third
story" received, when her rent was not
promptly paid, that she dreaded 10 ask favors
in that quarter. Thanking Heaven for the
oblivion of sleep, she sought her pillow
On the next morning she raised her v ,ary
head, with the strong determination Of doing
all she might to save herself and her help
less children from famine. Her natural in
dependence would have i%nIpelled her almost
10 starve herself, before bending her head in
thankful meekness to s~clf-exultinE charity
givers but there were those depending up
on her, whose lives were far dearpr than her
own, and she. dared not listen to the voice of
that deep pride, which circumstances reveal
ed 10 her in a stronger light than she had ey-
er dreamed of; it seemed 10 live in the very
centre Of her being, one powerful feeling,
which only love for her children could cope
with. Long and earnestly she prayed for
strength from the Giver Of All; mourniully
her yearning gaze dwelt upon the innocent
countenarc e of her sleeping children, and
yet more than an hour went by, before the
struggle in her mind would allow her 10 APP
peal 10 the family of her landlord for aid
At length Frederick awoke, and Amy open
ed her soft bright eyes, and asked in her mr-
steal, childish accents, for ''breakfdst."
"les, love-" briefly replied the anxious
mother, half turning away her face, as she
received the glad caress Of the happy child.
Leaving the children, she haslened down
stairs, and knocked at the door Of the much
dreaded Mrs. Brooks.
"Ah! Mrs. Franklin, walk in," said the
lady, in a civil tone, as she opened the door.
"Children well :" she continued, after look
ing a moment in the face Of her visitor, which
too plainly betrayed her anxiety.
pretty well ~ was the answer then with
apparent composure was added, IL have a
favor to ask of you, Mrs. Brooks"
Here the lady addressed hemmed, and CAL
led her little Tobias up TO her, 10 tie his
apron string; he lwitched, because he said
INA near about chokcd his neck off," Ma
hen boxed his ears, and got him crying,
gave her ample scope for scolding and
him, and running over the catalogue
IF her cares and trial.
''Really, Mrs. Franklin" she said, turn
.ng towards her again, " there is no one
Knows what | have to 90 through with eve
" day of my life-l sometimes think | shall
raving distracted it is a miracle that I've
kept my senses as long as l have. 1t was
only yesterday that Stephen cut his hand
dreadGully, and we have had the doctor to
dress it, for ! was so nervous ! couldn't look
at it, without screaming right out; and last
week Tobias slept his little foot into a sauce
pan of hot water; Martha was holding some
candy up high, so that he could not reach it.
All these things | have toattend to, and there
is hardly a minute of my life, that | can call
my own. il wears me out! suppose peo-
pie think because Mr.. Brooks is getting
along very well in his business, and we own
this house, that we are quite rich but a
large family like ours, has Il thousand eXpen-
SEES, that a small family like yours can know
nothing about. | often envy you your tran
guilty! !"
every heart knows its bitterness ~ an
swcred Mrs. franklin, with a sigh. 81 have
no one to share my cares with me-to pro-
vide for my wants, and give my children
| bread. or to"
ooh as for that" interrupted Mrs. Brooks
''lhere is not much in that for if a person
has any energy, there is no danger but wha
a comfortable living may be made in a city
like this. | know very well, that if | wa.
left a widow, | could get along just as wei
as | do now. ] often tell Mr.. Brooks tina
he would have been wealthy years ago, if h
had my management. Now, you see if Nj
Brooks should die-(dear, it would kill me
! know but then, just supposing he should
why, | would let out a good many NOR
rooms in this house, and would make mr.
ney, besides getting my own rent clear
could manage in a thousand ways, but h
must always go in the beaten track well,
suppose il is all right; there are few me
l like Mr.. Brooks, | never saw any thing t
complain of in him, in my life, and we'y
been married thirteen years next March ~
"If such is the case, you are an uncon
, monty fortunate woman replied Mrs. Franz
. lin, who had listened, attentively, 10 this Ion
string of absurd remarks. She felt the di
: position to look steadily and incredulousl
4, in the eyes Of her contradictory landlady, hl
. she only smiled slightly and politely, FOR 81
I remembered that the dependent may hardl
S dare TO be frank, even in the expression
r their countenances, with those who may,
may not, raise them from want. 81 have n
yet done my errand," she continued, after
pause. ~ was disappointed on Saturday
: getting the money which was due me, and
y has caused me great Inconvenience. C,
= you lend me a few shillings until this afle
y noon z"
h "Oh, dear! Mrs. Franklin, you have con
+; TO the wrong one for money. | havn't g
&c any change in the house; | should like
y oblige you, but | can't do it,"
s The heart Of the wretched widow seem
3, ready to break, and the cold, decided tor
Ie in which these words Were spoken. Crus
/ ing her pride, as she thought of her hung
4 children, she exclaimed, in an agitated ma
S, ner,
l. "Oh Mrs. Brooks, do not deny me Il
/ kindness; ] will repay you this afternoon
s. "How can ! give you money, if ! hav
rs rot any in the house :" sharply inquired NJ
I'D Rroole