The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-09-28

and rephed, that it Mr. Frue was going for 10
do anything for him, be would learn for to be
butcher; that was the trade for him for to
be-he could learn other frings enough him
self
"What have you learned" asked
How for to eat like q dog-a good deal
faster than the old wayn
All at once he fell to limping and walking
on one toe.
What is the matter - | asked.
"1he stone fruse is about as bad as it can
be-" hs said; but discerned the occasion of the
sudden lameness before he spoke. A little way
before US was my father, sprinkling salt on q
patch of briers, thas they might be eaten by
the sheep and Doke feared he might be called
on to lend 6 helping hand
Well Mary said my father, coming To-
ward me, how do you like the man you live
with, and do you think you viii stay there
whiislp
hardly know why, but felt humbled to
the earth his simple honesty seemed to reproach
my cunning wisdom; and when said liked
my place very much, and thought should stay
there, satisfied him, but not myself. had told
HIM tie truth, and yet after manner that
made it a lie.
Think be is going to sell his farm to that
lame man?" he continued, stirring his hand
through the measure Of salt.
said, no; the lame man had already bought
farm, and was about to establish school,
and that was to 20.
Then | am afraid you WON'T earn muchn
40, | shall work night and morning, you
know; and am such a good girl, Mr.. Richards
Is willing to pay me more than he would give
hoped to make my father laugh; but did not,
and signing instead, he said:
swell, Mary, you must try to be good
girl, and do as near right as you know how;
and if You can get schoolin', and think it will
do You any good, why, go to school; | am too
cid 20 learn now; whenlI was young and smart,
like you, was bound, and had to work airly
and late. Well, no matter, Pm glad you are
ike to do so well.
81 hope to do well, father; | mean to try"
said
"Ha9e you heard anything from Chsrley?"
no asked, for he always seemed to think that
my sources of knowledge were unlimited; and
when / said | knew nothing of Charley, hut
hoped he would come back before long, he
seemed TO think nothing so likely, and, with
Something like s:ni!e on his tanned face, went
back TO his work in the briers.
( 81 felt that had no right 70 the confidence
he gave me, that no did not understand me,
and that had not sought to mako myself I'M
derstood
My hopes and fears were trembling beneath
the commonplace surface upon which he look
ed.
| was Badder for our interview; to have seen
him cheerfully and hopefully at work, and to
have received some word of caution or reproof
would not have cut me down as did his conf
Gence, founded on wrong approximations.
H. al hxxh nd Fafh nr
and child could not have been moro unlike. |
had no. asked how things went at home. saw
plain enough in his detected countenance, in
HE ragged and buttonless sleeves, his unshaven
beard and the neglected and Embraced condi-
sion of the whole man.
] was half disposed to 60 back and tell him
that | was to be married to Mr.. Richards, and
ask him to sanction my choice. But, after a
little hesitation, went on.
S When we were quito out of sight Doke said
pie foot was betser-in fact, he could walk on
st as well as the other; and 80, now hopping
On one foot and now on the other, now turning
somereets and now doubling himself along like
snake, he managed to get over the ground
very fast could not imagine st first why he
was so anxious to visit the poor girl; but all at
once he pcrched himself on stump, and when
came up asked if siek folks were not likely
TO havo good things sent them which they could
DOT eat. | said no. for was vexed to see my
good father imposed on by even so wretcbed
creature as he.
Lucretia was not so i'll as | had expected to
find her--or, perhaps should say not so much
prossrated, for that she was seriously i'll there
could be 10 doubt. .She smiled when she saw
me, and for moment the fiery light of her
eyes took q softer glow but so soon az she
knew that brought no intelligence from Char
10y, there came a sinking of heart and mind.
Her hand lay clammy in mine, and returned no
presSure--it was as if the blood lay dead in her
veins. Some sticks of wood lay on the hearth
partly burnt, but there was no fire; it seemed
TO have died week before; and bucket Of
water stood on the table over which the dust
had settled. In the windows hung spider webs
specked with flies, some dead and some flntter-
ing in vsin A dish Of fruit was on the table,
over which the mould stood up like white fur |;
and the ashes, which the wind had blown along
the hearth, lay there with the trails of mice
running through it. She seemed not only to
hare lost ell interest in life, but all natural Gp
petites and inclinations. The door was closed,
and tho windows too, though it was the sweet
summer season; and on stiff, uncomfortable
chsir, and in the middle Of the room, the sick
girl sat, withou. books, or papers, or anything
with which to amuse herself When | asked
if she was better, she said she was quite well,
not 30 etrong as she used to be-that was all.
She smiled, or tried to smile, when told her
about the school, and said she was glad and
grateful but she seemed only to recall her
thoughts from fsr-off melancholy musings to
say SO; for her heart had evidently no part in
tho words she spoke.
Doke asked her if she was not very hungry,
afeer having been sick; but she said no, not
even experimenting the force Of his remarks;
when he continued to sag, he had lately had
the yaller janders, and that having become
well, he was 80 hungry he believed he could
eat anything-it almost seemed as if mouldy
sass would taste good. She only said she had
heard that some persons were very hungry
after having been i'll, but that she had less ap-
petite than she had ever had.
/ hoped to rouse her by speaking of Mr.
Goodman, but her settled calm was not in the
least disturbed. He thinks am very wicked,
che said; and that / made the children bad
did not mean to do SO, but maybe did
must be publicly disgraced, he says; nothing
else viii bring me to Q sense of my own unwor-
thiness. When | am alone, | ask God to for
give me as | forgive all my enemies, and, if /
have done wrong, to teach mo to do better.
mover meant to be Q bad girl, and | would
rather have starved than to have taught chill
dren to be wicked. And so she recounted all
she had said and done in school, and how the
children loved her, for that ono brought her
an apple, and one some flowers and another
kissed her and curled her hair; aud, though
for her Life she could not see wherein she had
been so sinful, she did not question the truth
fuluess of the accusation.
"And what did he say of Charley :" asked
for | knew it was on the ground of her &C
quaintance with him that, Mr. Goodman had
based his defamation.
Her check flushed, end her voice trembled