Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1854-08-11

treHs came in with q couple OF bed-qullts, |
saying, As you have 20 small wash to-
day, Adalinc, think you may do these yet"
wall of agony, wrung from the deepest
fountain of the heart, gushod to her lips -
Smothering it as best she could, she again
took up the board and rubbed and rinsed,
and hung out. 1t was half past three when
again she started for home--an hour Too
late" And the aged martyr sObbed
" An hour too late" continued she, after Il
long pause. q" Her husband was dying-yes,
almost gone. lie had strength given to whis-
per few words to his half frantic wife-to
tell her how he had longed to look upon her
face, and how that until the clock struck
two he could see, but after that though he
strained every nerve, he lay in the shadow
Of death. One hour she pllowed his head
upon her suffering breast, and then-he pas
at rest.
" But for the grudging or thoughtless ex-
action of her mistress. she had once more
seen the lovelight fash in her husband eyes,
and he have looked upon her who was SO
dear.
Mary, Mary dear, be kind to your wash
erwoman. Instead of making her work as
long rnoy be, sliVI ten it, l,shton it.
Few women will 90 out to daily washing
unless their needs are terrible. No woman
on her bridal day expects to labor in that
way and be sure, my niece, if constrained
to do so, it is the last resort. The poor wo-
man, laboring so hard for you has not always
been a washerwoman. She has seen awful
trials, too. | can read her story in her pale,
sad face. Be kind to her, pay her all she
asks, and let her go home as soon as you
can
"You Rave finished in good season to day,
Susan" said Mrs. Merton, as the washerwo-
man, with her old cloak and hood on, entered
the pleasant chamber to ask her pay.
" Yes, ma am, that have; and my heart
ma am, is relieved of heavy load | was
SO afraid should be kept till night, and | am
needed so at home.'
" Have you any sickness there !" asked
aunt Hannah, kindly.
Tears gushed to the poor woman's eyes as
she answered, " All, ma am, | left my baby
most dead this morning he will be quite SC
tomorrow know it, I've seen it too many
times, and none but a child of nine years tt
tend it, o, must CO. and quickly And
grasping the hard earned money which she
had toilcd for while her baby was dying that
when dead it might have decent shroud She
hurried to her home
They followed her-the young wife who
had never known sorrow. and the aged mat
ron whose hair was white with trouble-fol
lowed her to her home the home of tn,
drunkard babes. She was not too late
The wee diving boy yet knew his mother, ye
craved u draught from her loving breast
Until midnight she pilowed him there, anc
then kind hands took from her the breathlcs
form, shut the bright eyes, Strengthened thu
tiny limbs, bathed the cold clay, and wrapped
about it the pure white shroud. Yes, anc
they did more. They gave what the poor 81
seldom have--t,me 10 ,Ceep.
80, aunt said Mrs. Merton, with tear
in her eyes, as, having seen the little coifinc
: babe borne to its last home, they returned t.
their own happy one, eff my heart blesse
you, how much more must poor Susdn's.-
. Had it not been for you she would have bee
too late--the baby would not have known it
|, mother. 1t has been sad yet holy lesson
. shall always be kind to the poor washerwc
man. But, aunt, was the story you told IN
, a true one-dU true, | mean -
,, 4" The reality of that story whtened IN
head when it had seen but thirty summers
and the memory of it has been one of IN
keenest sorrows. 1t is not strange that
; should pity the poor washerwoman. Ada
line and aunt Hannah are one and the same