The Plymouth pilot. (Plymouth, Marshall County, Ind.) 1851-1852, 1851-07-30
From the Flag of Our Union.
THE WIDOWS DREAM;
An Oasis in the Desert Of a poor Seam
stress Life.
BIZ A. F. WHITE.

By A. F. WHITE.
| The cold. piercing winds Of a Decem
! Der night whistled and moaned around
the old frame tenement of poor widow,
who resides In a narrow, dark street In
populous city whereof one Penn was the
founder. The widow in vain stuffed the
surplus. tattered pieces of her sparce
wardrobe into the assures of the shatter
'ed door and windows, to exclude the nip
ping breath Of Jack Frost" as it oozed
into her humble apartments, for the fer
ce winter king and his snowy train drove
furiously through the deserted streets.
aud in boisterous glee Knocked the dying
embers of the poor womans fireside.
Upon small dea. table before her, as
she crouched in low chair beside the
expiring fire, dimly burned lamp. while
the benum5ed fingers Of the widow, gui
deG by her weary eyes, were playing ov-
Ier a half finished garment Of acheap tail
oring esta Adjustment. Ever and anon the
poor woman would cast her eyes towards
large and i'll accou tered bed, in a corner
of the room, and as she did so, she would
renew her wasted energies to complete
her task. That humble couch contained
all on earth that was dear TO her, her two
children slept. nothing the less sound
because of their wretched poverty, but
slept that sweet ead refreshing sleep
that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.
and falls as gently upon the beggar in his
shed, as the millionaire II his palace.
A sobbing moan escapes the poor widow,
tears suffuse her hollow cheeks.
Il can work no more, my lights near
ly gone. I'm chilled to the bone. But.
o, what will my children do for bread
to morrow They almost broke my heart
when ! put them to bed hungry and cold
TO night. Tomorrow they'll have moth
ing-no food, no fire. Great God, they
must not perish, while I've an eye or
heGd.' And the poor woman again piled
hex needle, nodded, sobbed. sighed and
worked on, until the last ember of her
fire was gone. The light of the lamp
fiiekered in the socket for moment; and
the last stitch in the garment was COM
plete as the faint streaks of day broke
through the interstices of the windows.
Pale and wan, as if death had already
claimed his demand, almost as rigid ritti
cold, too, the widow arose from her seat,
crossed 10 the bed, gazed upon her still
quietly sleeping children, and falling up
on her knees beside them, she prayed
prayed that God would call them all
Il,
seemed before them. But the sun began
to spread his broad rays over the frozen
earth, and the ham and roar of busy
city resouhded again in the streets. The
poor woman donned her plain habili-
ments, kissed her waking children, ard
bidding them sleep until she returned
with food and started. through the deep
snow and keen morning air, to the tail
oring establishment.
1t was one of those large 6epots where
ready made clothing holds out such great
allurements to the economical wearers of
such goods; long established and tole-
rated species of iatter-day Bastile. for
the torture of those poor females who
fight to the last, against most overwhel
ming odds and cha noes of wretched ex
istence, in defence of their honest power
ty, and a purity of purpose. which. when
preserved, scarce attracts passing COM
mendation: yet. if lost, all the world,
law of the land. and pulpit malev olence.
fails not to scathe to the hearts core the
misery -goaded wretch. She stood beside
the proprietor's counter, while he, array
ed ia his flashy wardrobe, and ornamen
ted with seals, keys and chains, fumbled
over the garment, examined the seams.
tested the strength of sewing, found
fault with this, and objected TO that; and
with all the vulgar coarseness and tyran
nical stupidity peculiar TO the driver of
"slop shop" or the debauched manager
of second-rate thea ter, Shears, the pro-
prietor, dealt out his i'll humor to the
hale famished. pale woman before him.
At length he consented to take the gar
ment in. half finished as he proclaimed it
to be, and sulkily threw the wretched
seamstress quarter of dollar upon the
counter. She grasped it. it was the link
between her and dissolution. She stood
for a moment, waiting for-r,ore work.
"You may CO." said the proprietor.
"Have you no more work. sir?'
mo; you don't deserve any more. If
| intended to give you more work !
should have made you work the button
holes of that coat over again"
"But sir, how can afford to do neater
work, on such coarse garments, at such
price?"
"Price? Why. | can get hetter work
done, hundreds will be glad of the chance
to make one of them coats for three ftp
penny bits?"
"Ah, sir, have two small children to
provide bread and Fl re for! work inces-
sanity on one Of those coats from day