The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1854-05-23
MILE LEE.
BY CLEMENT L. BABR.

BY CLEMENT l.. BABR.
eThere,' said friend to mo one day, "ther
goes a heroine l looked around, but secin
only o little girl trudging barefoot along tn
road, with basket almost rs large rs herself
turned my eyes with a glance Of inquiry to
wards the speaker He answered it by point
ing TO the unromantic object just described
i mean her, Millio Lee. You think that sh
is only poor, shoeless, stockingless child
but tell you she is heroine with noble
heart than ever beat in tho bosom of Joan o.
Arc, or Margaret Ajou."
My friend was not accustomed TO talk a
random; hence my curiosity was excited. ant
drew from him rs We sat in the shade to rest
this story Of Millie Leo.
Pive years ago there came 10 our village
laborer named Robert Lee. He was idle and
Incorporate, his wife feeble and heart broken
their children so pale, so hungry, and so sick
ly-looking that il made my heart ache to sec
them. Thcy had been born beneath tho shad-
ow of fathers neglect,-a mothers hot tears
had fallen on their faces as they drow nourish-
mont from her breast, and lay upon her break
ing heart. How could thoy be like other chill
dron? On the desert shrub, every now leaf
tells by its premature searness, of the arid sand
in which tho root is withering. Hence those
children never played or smiled They crept
about so still and sud-thoy ate their hard dry
crusts with such melancholy look, that yon
would have thought their homo must have
been a house of death. And so it was. Their
father would lie for hours as ono dead!-dcad
to all tho beauties Of nature, to all the 0civi.
ties of the world, to all the claims and slffor-
ings of his family to all the nobility If the ma
ture that he was burning to cinder Of ever
lasting rcmorsc by tho fires of rIm. Ofton
have accosted those children, crouching to-
gethcr by the door of their home and tried to
draw from them smile; ] gayo them food
when | know they were very hungry, and they
would thank mo sweetly; but rot a CLEAN Of
sunshine would pass over their FACES. They
woro grateful but could not be gay.
We tried tn do something for the family, but
the wretched father would not let any of them
leave him, and would squander for rum, or de-
stroy for spite, whatever we gave them. lie
had great deal of maudlin independence, and
our kindness he scornfully refused as an ohic-
ious Interference with his affairs. Hence we
could only carry food to his starving wife and
children while he was at the dram shop.
At last Mrs. Leo died Never saw | such
scene before, and God in mercy save mo from
over witnessing tho like again Lee was roll
ing on tho floor, too drunk 10 understand what
was going on or even 10 rise. But his tongue
was loose, and he accompanied tho groans of
his wifo, and tho sobs of his Children with
SHdtcueS OI rlDulu songs anu cuT6c5 lIiiL lNdue
my blood curdlo in my veins!
need not dwell upon the funeral We
managed to keep Lee sober until his poor wife
was put under the ground. But he seemed to
havo little feeling; he wont to the church and
tho grave like man stunned or in dream
We left the family at night with everything
for their comfort intending to find homes for
tho children next day.
In tho morning having made our arrange
monts, we went early to the cabin. We heard
as we approached q discord of mingled cur
SOS, screams and blows. Wc entered and
there was Lee, in drunken rage, with the po-
kcr in his hand He had driven the children
into corner, and before tho younger ones
stood Mllie, covering them rs hen covers
her brood, and meeting the eye of her father
with such a look of freproach and sadness, that,
demon as he was, he quailod beneath it. After
wo had gono away tho night before, tho wretch.
cd man had stolen out to ono Of those low dcns
where they would sell rum to q grinning skel-
oton if it had only three cents in its hand
There, pawning tho clothes that had boon Civ
en- him for tho funeral, ho prepared himself
for the sceno we witnessed.
Having disarmed him, and released tho
trembling orphans, wo insisted upon taking
thom all away. Millie said wo might take
Sally and Georgey and tho baby, but she wol'd
stay; for, since mother was dead, there was |
nobody to look nftor father
"But MilIic, he will beat you; he will kill
you'll
maybe he WILL sir sho answered, "but
vet must not leave him. He gots drunk, 1
know, and then he is cross but still, he is my
father" EfInrre
looked with wonder on that feebe child
4 thought of all that she had suffered from that |
brutal man, who mover smiled eYcn on her |
childish prattc thought Of all she had yet |
10 fear from him, alone in that cabin, and felt
that no recorded instance of female heroism
exceeded hers. We reasoned and we pleaded |
but Mlio was firm. We were obliged 10 leave
her, though with many sad forcbodings.
We heard nothing from her until tho next
day. Then shc ran up TO see the baby, which |
was at my house. asked her. show are you
getting on at homo now, Mlie"
.Pretty wo thank you," was her reply
"Did your father get drunk last night%-
She tried to keep back tho tears as she an
swcrcd:
"IIe camo home very cross, sir"
"Dii he beat you. Miller sfGff
90, not much. He only struck me twice.
and once II was with nothing but his hand"
"And tho other timo?--yos, see, il wss will,
the poker. and ho made deep gnsh in your
head! You must not stay there, Millie." I
go, sir, 1T did not hurt mo much, and when
he saw tho blood lt seemed 10 soOor hlm lit
tic, and he threw down tho poker and told mo
to tic up my face and go to bed And after
was in bed ho sat by tho fire and muttcrcd to
himself. and thought by what heard that
he felt because he struck me; and don't think
bc will do so again"
Poor, patient loving, hopeful Millic Loci
She kissed the baby, and hurried back TO get
some supper for hor father.
That night 1 was out late returned by
Lees cabin about eleven o'clock. As ap-