The weekly Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1854-1861, 1854-10-18
58s5 .55s RAEEN y D OCTOBER I8.ls54.

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Z absMWork for my 'children,pl she replied,
srOusing herself and speaking with some
t RESOLUTION. %Ihave hands to &Ork, and I
am illing 70 work 49,. 7aT o.. .o'.
"Mu ch better go home TO your fathsr,'''
said the womaig 10 giT
, lsThat isdimPossible. He hes a Adispwned
Eme, and ceased toHloveme or care for me-
| cannot go to him again; lfor, Il could not
bear as am now, another harsh repulse.--
No-po-I VIII work with my own hands
God viii help, me provide for my children ,
\ In this spirit, the almost, heart-broken
! young woman, for whom the boarding house
keeper felt more than a common interest,"
an interest that would not let her thrust her
out from the only place she could call her
home-sought for work, and was fortunate
enough to obtain sewing from two or three
families, and thus enabled her to pay a light
boardnfon herselfand children. But inces-
sant toll with her needle, continued late 1t
night and resumed early in the, morning
gradually undermined her health, which had
becsme delicate, and WEAKNESS and pains be!
came the constant companions of her labor
Sometimes in carrying her work home,
the ,forsaken, would have to pass the old
home other grlhood, andtwice she saw her
father at the window. But, either she was
changed SO that he did not know his child, or
ba u,n,Id ~ ~ bonnd e. - h;a .to.> -oszI....
to disown her. On these two occasions she
was unable on her returning, to resume her
work. Heifngers could not hold or guide
the needle; nor could she, from the binding
tears that filled her yes, have seen to sew,
even if her hands had lost the tremor that
ran through every nerve other body. ''a
Ayear had rolled wearily by, since Lo-
gan went off, and still no word had come
from the absent husband. Labor beyond her
bodily strength, and grief that was to se-
we're for her spirit to bear, had done sad work
upon the forsaken and disowned child. She
was but a shadow Of her former self. a-.
Mr.. Crawford had been very shy of the
old Quaker who had spoken SO plainly; but
his words had made some impression on him,
though no one would have supposed so, as
there,was no change in his conduct towards
his daughter. He had forewarned her of the
consequence if she acted in opposition to his
wishes. She had taken her own way, and
word-4his word that had ever been inviolate.
He might forgive her; he might pity her; but
she must remain stranger. Such direct
and fagrant act of dsobedence to his wish
es, was not to be forgotten nor forgiven
Thus, in stubborn pride did his heart con-
firm itself fin its cold and cruel estrange mcnt
Was he happy' No! Did he forget his
child! No! He thought of her, and dream
ed of her, day after day, night after night.
But-he had said it, and he would stick to
it His pride was qnbendng as iron.
Of the fact that the husband ofFanny had
gone off and left her with two children to
provide for with the labor Of her hands, he
had been made fully aware. but it did not
bend him from his stern purpose.
"She is nothing TO the." was his impatient
reply, to the one who informed him of the
fact. This was. all that could be seen,
but his heart trembled at the intelligence.
Nevertheless, he stood coldly aloof, month
after month, and even repulsed, angrily, the
kind landlady with whom Fanny boarded,
who had attempted, all unknown to the
daughter, to awaken sympathy for her in
her fathers heart. ,, a....... r.. .,I
One day, the old Friend, whose plain
words had not pleased Mr.. Crawford, met
that gentleman, near his own door. The
Quaker; was leading little boy by the
hand. Mr.. Crawford bowed, and evidently
wished to pass on, but the Quaker paused,
and said
81 should like to have d few words with
thee friend Crawford" ,.t t'' ..'a .g|
"Well say on.n BE- .ea,rNH 40 " j'
"Thee is known as q benevolent man,
friend Crawford. Thee never refuses, it is
said, to do deed, Of charity p. .,". . . e5a
Il always give something when I am
sure the object is deserving" ,#b ~, ~,
$50 am aware. Do you see this little
boy?'' h'H94 "A $3.50 'He@' '" y. 'a.t' 90 .5.iE
Mr.. Crawford glanced down at the child
the Quaker held BY the hand. AS he didso,
the child lifted to him, gentle face, with
mild, earnest loving eyes.. s..ioe' y i' q " se.I
at is a sweet little fellow" said Mr..
Crawford, reaching his hand to the child. -
He spoke with some feeling, for there was
a look about the boy that went to his heart,
at is, indeed, a sweet child--and the i'm.
age of a poor, sick almost heart-broken
mother, for whom Tam trying to awaken
an interest. She has two children, and this
one is the Oldest. Her husband is dead, or
what may be, as bad, perhaps worse, as far
as she cis concerned dead to ehsr; - and she
does not seem to have relative inthe world;
at least none who think about or care for
her. In trying to provide for her children,
she has pyertssked he, delicate frame, and
made haraelfe sick. d Unless something is
donesfor herp a worse thing must follow
She must go to the Aims house, and be sep.
arated from her children Look into the
Sweet sGinnoeeht face ofttbis dear child. and
let yopr heart say whether he ought to be
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