The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1849-11-03
Nary Lering's Lesson of Life
BY MISS NARY N CHASE.
CHAPTER |.

CHAPTERI.
POOr ehldI what lonely days she passed, with nothing
70 re al,
Bat bitter t4ants aud words looks Cold
Than al"
By the glowing embers on the kitchen hearth
OF large, old fashioned farmhouse, sat Abel
Martin and his wife. 1t was late in the evening
and a chill blast was without They had been
sitting long in silence, and at length Mrs. Martin
spoke
1T don't handy seem as If poor James was
gone, after alll'
She uttered this in a half suggestive, half
doubling tone, and accompanied It by very
proper sigh. Whoever James might be, II was
evident that his loss had not very deeply affected
her
Il really cannot realize it, she continued, 'and
then TO think Of his sending his daughter to me
TO be took care Of and brought up. Ii is certain
~ very affecting, though don't see how 1t is 10
be done, and | am not used to having children
about the house. But she said, warming with
her own eloquence, she can pick Up chips, and
Tdn OF eTTsnds; and they say she is very smart
with her needle, and paints, and sings, and all
that. She mustn't think TO have anything TO do
WITH such useless stuff here; but | can keep her
sewing good part OF the time. There's the lin
en- 1 made three years ago Tot made up yet, be-
sides great deal Of flannel and tow.cloth; and
she can learn 70 spin and weave dare say, If
she learns other things so quick, and guess |
can make her useful after all
Mrs Martin paused and looked up at her hus-
band for a reply. He had been gazing at the
hreyeV steadily for the last hour, without the
slightest change of expression in his counte-
nance. But now raising up and clasplng his
hands over his knees, be said, Hannah do YOU
know how much property your brother james
leftl'
mo-
well, it was Just fifty thousand dollars!
Fifty thousand dolIars! and all TO that girl!
yes; and | am 10 be her guardian till she is
Of age. She's little over fifteen now. tell you
what, Hannah; that girl don't look to me as If it
would take much to carry her of. She's been
always kept to school ever since her mother died
and looks dreadful pale. Ifsnything should hap
e. p''p' O 90 ''' -
Fifty thousand douaTs!' repeated BIS wife, as
If unable TO comprehend The amount.
Yes; and If ouOny manage night, 1t will all
be ours. Just keep her night under your thumb.
Don't let her think she can have her own way at
all. Because IN the fIst place it viii be the cas-
lest way, and next, when she's grown up, it she
lives so long, which can't think, it will be less
trouble TO prevent her marrying and taking her
money into her own hands For, Of course,
there u be plenty that will be glad to get such
ncb girl
Conversing thus, the farmer aud his wife sat
until the embers had nearly died out upon the
hearth, and all discourse was Of the orphan girl
who had that day come uRdeI their charge. A
mothers love she had never known, and her IA
ther had lately died in adistant part of the estate
whence she had been sent TO be cared for by her
relatives.
Little did James LOnng know the misery,
grasping disposition OF his sister and her husband
when BY his will he left his only child TO their
care They had not met for many years, and
each had been sufficiently occupied in the pursuit |
Of wealth almost to forget the other. Abel Mar
tan had no children. Perhaps the influence of
young and generous spirits might have made him |
d better man But with none save themselves |
10 provide for both he and his wife had gone on,
ifon year TO year, toilingto amass property which
they could neither enjoy themselves nor share |
with Others. But they had welcomed their young
Beiative with as much warmth as they knew how
10 infuse into their words; for she was an heir
ess and an invalid, and they were her nearest |
hin.
But OIL how the poor child's heart sank with
N her, as she gaZed around on the large, dimly
lighted rooms, whose pondeTous furniture had ac-
quired that stiff, immovsble air which slways
unused articles; and a desolate,
homesick feeling settled around her heart, as she
tins lonely house with her own pretty
chamber, where all was sunshine and comfort /
Except on great occasions, the kitchen and
some small sleeping looms were the only ones
opened. The former served for all domestic puI-
poses, for dining-rOom and parlor. 1t was large
and almost as lonely as the Iest-brown beams
frowned gnmly Overhead, and the vast fireplace
seemed ready TO swallow up the whole.
When she was shown TO her chamber at night,
fO0fefpna ponOQd fhs.. i
)eted hall and on the bare creaking stairs
When her aunt left her, she threw herselfon the
,ed and sobbed aloud. And well she might; for
Nothing could be more cold and dismal than that
Dom. IL was furnished with a bed and a very Il
mall lookingglass, and stand Of the narrowest
'roportions, with long, nckety legs. And this
vas all. Never before had she passed q night
n such a loom.
But when she had dried her tears and laid her,
elf down for the night she could not sleep. The |
old linen ruck chill through her frame, and
be weight Of the bed-clothes, which yet gave no
Esrmth, was insupponable. Then the wind rose |
nd made such strange unearthly noises around |
1e house that she was filled with fear. III
At last, after two or three hours, she rose and
mapping her shawl about her descended TO the
Itchen. As she opened the door, the pair, who d
bill sat by the hearth, were startled by her unex-
ected appearance. Ii
What Is the matter, my desr!' said Mrs. Mar v
n, IN tone intended 10 be very gentle.
oh, aunt, it is so cold spd so lonesome up n
ans, had rather sit up all night than stay upl
1ere.' la
IF you are cold, III put more clothes on the
ID, but as TO being lonesome I'm sure there :
MT anything be more nice and snug LII
III you please, won't you let me sit here till
~ go up stairsi / shan't mind il SO much
EN- r,
Mrs. Martin looked at her husband, who shook 81
. head, and she replied h
NO, my dear Go night back TO your room,
"a III bring you something warm to put 10 your u
et can't have you think TO begin TO be a N,
10Y, and II You are afraid Of the wind, shall 10
ashamed of you. And don't you ever come or
'vn STAIN my dear, after you have gone to bed al
n co. '' \.
VIM . hssvy hesrt poor Mary Loring again is,