The Westerly echo, & Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1854-1858, 1856-11-20
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WESTERLY, RI, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1856.

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ey, The old man is very kind, and
long our neighbour
Yes, but he is as poor as ourselves,
and talkative, too No, l will keep our
need quiet, and walk the distance. /
shall get on well if it is but fair over
head, and be home earlier, too, than if
[ waited to return with Broom. So
Mary Bradly's girl must come in, and
take care of you dear. And you must
keep your heart up while | am gone'
She promises she will, and the sisters
retire to rest, when Margaret has made
suadry preparations, inclusive of seek
ing for the two precious volumes, bound
in vellum, and wrapping them carefully
in paper. They are almost the sole re-
lies Of once noble library e.s
The morning breaks dull and gray.
No snow has fallen through the night,
but the clouds are laden with it and, i,
though there has been temporary thaw
which must have made the condition of
the roads dreadful, the wind blows with
arrowy keenness. The poor gentlewo-
man, Miss Margaret Butler, is up be-
times. Sne effects her small household
work, carries up her sister her break
fast, then helps her to rise, to dress,
tescome down stairs, and to take her
place on the sofa, where she had passed
her days for nearly fifteen years. She
is great sufferer, but patient and gentle
withal. Not thing for her comfort is
forgotten by Margaret; the remnant of
Deefrea is set upon the hob, her toast
and-water made, her books and work
put on small table beside her whilst,
on the other hand, Eleanor's anxiety
with respect to Margaret is extreme
She knows the dreary road, the painful
errand at its end, and guesses that Mar
garet's scanty clothing can but i'll resist
the bitter cold. On this latter point
the truth is worse than she suspects.
With so many things thus to do, it is
between ten and eleven o'clock before
Margaret sets off At about half a mile
distant from their lonely house lies a
rustic village. Here she calls at cot
tage, and asks the mistress to spare her
eldest daughter while she is gone, as
Miss Eleanor is quite alone. To this
the mistress gladly assents, for not only
is her little Susy pleased to 60, but the
Misses Butler have been the best of
friends in many an hour Of poverty and
sickness, and she is anxious to oblige.
But you be not surely going to walk
ma'am p says the woman anxiously.
My master says the roads be dreadful,
and deal more snow coming. Pm
sure old Broom would give thee lift, if
only for the sake O. th' years thou hast
dwelt among u.s.
Il know he would, Mary but, as |
cannot afford to pay, cannot think of
trespassing on his kindness Now good
day. The roads may be better than |
expect, and the snow keep off. Please
let Susy be attentive to Miss Eleanor,
and keep the fire up with wood have
got ready Thus saying, she closes the
cottage door, and plods on her weary
way.
'Now, Susan says the woman. be
quickly off, Take a bundle O. fagots
under thy arm, for l know their woed
be low enough, and the coal spent three
weeks ago. Ay, it's right hard for
ladies like them to know such deal o.
poverty, and this through no fault of
their. .......
1t is nearly eight miles to the cathc-
dral town by the somewhat heightened
road Margaret Butler takes, for the sake
of avoiding passers-by who may have
known her in more prosperous days. In
summer time this is very picturesque,
winding amidst hills, crossed by pretty
rivulets, and bordered by fields and
healthy tracts but now, these natural
beauties add to its impassableness and
desolation. With snow-drifts, over.
flowing water, and melted snow and
mud, the road for a greater part is o.
perfect auagmire. Yet the poor gentle
woman plods on, carefully guar ..rs her
rusty silk dress from spot or blemlsh,
though soon giving up the attempt to
walk cleanly, or to save her feet from
getting wet. They are soon soaked