The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1847-07-17

HHn 80 -
my elder brothers were frequently alb
sent, and as my mother never CLOSED
her heart orher door on the unfortunate
"Crazy Lucy'' often spent an hour O.
two by our fireside.. Her appearance
was very singular. Her gown was al
ways patched with many c%olors, ant
her shawl, OF mantle, worn and torn
until it was all open-work and fringe
The remainder of her miserable ward
robe she carried in a bundle, under hel
arm, and sometimes she had a number
of parcels of old rags, dried herbs, &c.
In the aso of flo wers, her tattered
bonnet was profusely decorated with
those which she gathered in the wood,
or by the way-side. Her love fol
these and her sweet voice were all tina,
were left her of the bloom and music
Of existence. Yet no--her meek and
chlldlike piety still fingered. Her God
had not forsaken her; down into the
dim chaos Of her spirit, the smile Of his
yet cleaned faintly--in the waste
Of her heart she still heard His
voice at even-tide, and she was no,
"afraid." Her Bible went with her
experimentation torn and soiIed volume,
but as holy still, and it may be as dearly
my reader, as the gorgeous
copy now lying ON your table, bound
in "Purple and in gold," and with the
untarnished upon its delicate
leaves.
remember to have heard my mother
a touching little incident con.
with n Of Lucy's brief visits
to us. $500
The poor ceature once laid her hand
on the curly head of one of my broth.
ers, and asked Of him his name. .Wil.
Edwin" he replied, with a timid
upward glance. She caught away hel
hand, and signing heavily, said, as
thinking aloud, 81 knew an Ed.
win once, and he made me broken
hearted"
This was the only instance in which
she was ever known to revert TO tho sad
svent which had desolated her life.
Thirty years from tho time Of the
commencement Of this msurful history,
On a bleak autumnal evening, a rough
country wagon drove into the village of
.. 1t stopped at the almshouss-
IN attenuatsd form was lifted out, and
he wagon rumbled away. Thus was
Lucy Dutton brought to her native town
o die! a
She had been in a decline for several
months, and the miraculous strength
which had so long sustained her in her
weary wanderings, at last forsook her
Her sister had died some time
and the widowed husband had
DON after removed with his family to
he far west: so Lucy had no friends,
10 home but the almshouse. aai3
But they YER very kind to her there.
The matron, a true woman, whose heart
ven the hourly contemplation 0 human
could not harden, gave herself
With %unwearying devotion to the care
f the quiet sufferer With the eye Of.
christian faith she watched the shattsr-
d bark Of that life, as borne adown the
ide Of time it nsared the great deep
+ eternity, with an interest as intense
S though it were a royal galley.
One day, about a week from the time
f her arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer
and those about her looked for
er release almost impatiently; but at
light she was evidently better, and, for
hs first time, slept TRANQUILITY until
forming. The matron, who was by
er bed side when she awoke, was start.
d by the clear and earnest gaze which
net her own-but she smiled, and babe
he invalid good morning. Lucy look
d %bswildered, but the voice treasured
er, and she exclaimed: 81 < a.a
"Oh what a long, long night this has
sen!" Then glancing around inquir-
Ugly, she added, "Whsre am Is--apd
f-tT 0aIffNa ~. .l.MI.r. 10 tHtHe..Lf 1850 81