Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1850-10-24
S Ell IT TALL
The Kindness that Kills.

BY THE REV. JAMES H. PERKINS.

CHAPTER /.
Come with me- Look at the cottage =
Mark the rosy children; the observant pig,
watchful for stray morsels of bread and apple
peelings; the dirty, noisy, gabbling, compan-
ionable, gossipping ducks; the sleepy dog with
his eyes wide awake; the all-sweeping, all
scolding ,all-spanking mother lis it not beau
tiful scene,-worthy of the Miami valley &
See that young, good-for-nothing who has
clambered over the garden fence, and is busy
looking in the grass for apples; how plump
and solid New Zealander would keep him
for an Australasian Fourth of July The
rogue deserves to be whipped; he's stealing
the russets from the tree. But what does he
do with them, They are all quietly made
over, under cover of the tall, iron weeds, to
the thin, pale girl, five years older than HIM
self, whose flesh has been shaken off by the
ague demons which haunt these same luxuri-
ant valleys. But, while we are musng over
the great problem of rich lands and bilious
dwellers, the pale, difiident girl, knowing how
little beauty she has-for her wavy looking
glass tells her the worst as to that-and know
ing what well of soul, of inner beauty, of
soul taking beauty. springs up in her dark eyes
when the magic of kind acts opens them; the
awkward, bashful girl, we beg you TO notice,
has stumbled backwards-against what las |
live, it is bee-hivei She'll be stung to death
What can be done, We are SO far off: and
the children run; the sleepy dog wakes and
runs; the pigs run faster than any; the all
sweeping mother has gone in doors; and round
her bowed, devoted head, as though all the
wealth of Hymett or sugar hogshead CEN
tered there, the reused legions of the insect
Victoria sound their gathering cry She poor
scared creature bows submissive never lifts
hand in selfdefence both hands, indeed, are
busy holding mp her apron full of apples 'bet-
ter be stung, $50 says inarticulate Affection
'than throw away Ned's gifts; which by the
way, Ned will be certainly spanked for giving
Meanwhile young scapegrace himself runs
Shame on himf do you sayl Ask first why
he ran. Napoleon might have run at the right
time. He runs for help. Good but STILL
you say, 'he should have helped his sweetheart
himself Very true. Notice now what he
does. AT ten steps off stand empty flour bar
rels, waiting the advent of those very apples
Ned had been stealing. Quick as hawk on
chicken Ned pounces on one; staggering, he
shoulders it, grasping simultaneously hand
ful of the straw which lies ready to embrace
the coy russets. Ellen, paler than ever, calm,
as only sick child can be, stands with bowed
head, holding her apron full of apples Only
an instant has elasped since the hive, long as
it takes to write and read about it; the bees
still dance their war dance with uplified
tomahawks when, like a new Achilles, Ned,
barrel on shoulder, whisp in hand, rushes
in, scatters the myriads for moment with
his straw sword, and plumps the barrel over
the astounded Ellen, who comes to her knees,
losing all her russets. Stay STILL says Ned,
'one minute and before the defrauded honey
hoarders knew what's what, or who's who he
is into the house, and out again, with bunch
of matches, and Ellen, half choked with graft
tude and birthstone, is trying to cough out her
thanks in the back kitchen.