The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1856-11-27
For The National Era.
THE Y0UNG MAN
A STORY, BY ALICE CAREY.
WHO WENT TO TOWN TO LIVE

STORY, BY ALICE CAREY.
he did not say you have come short, so put
ting him away behind her and below her-he
knew how far he was from her already, but she
said, re have come short; and he felt that for
seOmmon imperfection there was q common
mercy, and a smile sadly bright came over his
face, as he said, III don't see exactly as my love
could do anybody any good, supposing had
snY-but know yours has done me good. The
Aet Is, Chatty, 1 have been bleeding at the
mslnartery for some time, and but for your talk
ing II up so tenderly, must shortly have been
dead in sin; as it is, there may be little hope
for ne. What do you think, sister; that life
has any better chance for me?"
Life has in it what we get out of it," she
replied, land five could not choose good or evil,
We should be mere machines; disgrace and the
prison may be just as near to you tonight as
liberty aud honor and the love and trust Of men.
D. David, be very careful TO choose the right"
The tears overlowed her eyes, and she hid
her face in her hands as she finished speaking.
She had never spoken so earnestly, so reproving-
ly; perhaps the shadow of coming fate had
touched her, and she was more than ever before
afraid.
By all the blue blazes, mean to do BETTER"
SAID David, rising, and stirring the Goals as he
spoke; $50, Chatty, don't cry about me-"
And the good loving sister dried her eyes,
and tried to smile, and, after little cheerful
talk, the blaze that had come up from the sha-
Ken Goals huttered and fickered, and ran hith-
sr and thither, in low, blue fame, and then
all was dark and STILL
In her bed chamber, so neat and so quiet,
With Its white draperies, Chatty heard the clock
strike one, and two, and three, trying all the
tine to go to sleep, and wondering why she
could not. Again and again she looked from
Tie window, as the wind rolled and rumbled
along, shaking the sash as it went. The night
was growing colder, for the snow, that had part
y melted at first, glistened now in an icy heap,
and above it the prairie was all white.
Again and again she lifted her head from
the pillow, and listened. David was walking
ABOUT his room; she thought, perhaps, he was
sick.
A flush in her cheek, and wild light in her
eyes that guided her as much as the trembling
candle lame, she made her way along the hall
ana up the stairs, and to the door, and softly
Slthln the door of her brothers room. His black
ISir and beard contrasting with the white pil.
low, ne lay, handsome as Apollo, fast asleep.
and smiling as he slept.
one hand, tight clenched, was thrown nm on
NE eounterpane, and it seemed to Charity strong
elOasn 10 put away more harmful harm than
sue had been meditating about. He was her
brother, thoughtless, and doing wrong things
"Iehmes, but he was not all bad nor very bad,
sau iEr the future he was going TO do everything
!" well, and be such a comfort and such credit
70 ner. 1T he had never walked from that sleep.
ne, .er SICK soul would have had his good promise
=. ~ lean on. Better if it had been so. How beau
uui ne looked /! Charity knew she was not half
- 'Air; but what cared she for that, as, shading
~e candle from his eyes, she stole noiselessly
ihe windy night went by, and the morning came
W cold and bright and clean with snow. The
music OF bells rung gaily far and near the fires
Su'ned brighter in every house and howell; and
asaant pools and soaking alleys and red mire
ere Sh covered up; the children, half clothed
al ,eSoi uneHOu ab tney were, l6ugncQ
sOd shouted to see how beautiful everything
made Those who could get sleds to ride
sTSn hill on, were rich enough; and those
!, Luo could only toss and tumble over the soft
n rseet spread everywhere, and watch their COM
paaons or listen to the jingle of the bells, were
b bs,y glad and very merry. They could hardly
L Issr The creaking of the old mills the sharp
lung air seemed to consume the thick cho-
s s'ng steam that crept SO low and so sluggishly
;ra hIlan Boffman was active and lively, speak.
~ eheetinl words to his customers as he sold
sS sm meat, and humming fragments of songs
SoO Ou' The Millennium as he stood in the open
sOJ apron almost as white as the snow,
he MS eyes, not SO much on the bright sleighs
ssr saw running past, as the bright things he
away In the future. The head of the black
nSise was out of the window, and often his
psss rIng shrill and loud, impatient of his idle
OOs c.. The old knife-grinder looked down, his
bod LOOT on the treadle, and his crippled hand
A'olns knife after knife evenly against the