True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1858-10-20
Amy Hartley.

Hl ia Ju6 HCdIb vi 1OnuOH tb udTK1 OD-
sSuro street, which leads from the narrow
avenues and filthy purlieus of Drury Lane.
High old ruinous tenaments give it pc
culiar aspect, whilst numberless cages Of
singing birds, and boxes of pigeons, dar.
ken the broken windows, whose lodges
are filled, too, with pots of homely, old
fashioned flowers, which droop on from
season to season, in that close city air
like the human plants within, withering
yet existing. ....
1t was on fine summers evening
that stout mddle-aged man, dressed in
an old suit Of black, worn at the elbows
and glazed with grease and dirt, was
preceding up the street in question. He
held by the hand little girl, about ten
years old, whose bright hazel eyes, all.
burn curls and fresh blooming complexion
contrasted pleasantly with the hard,
thin faces of children OF the same age,
who, engaged in play, nearly filled the
narrow street. the man entered long,
dark passage and assembled flight Of
stairs, closely followed by the child,
whom he told 10 hold fast small bundle
he carried. They entered a large room
which stood half open, at the top of the
landing, woman raised her head on their
entrance, she was guant and careworn,
and though still young was bent nearly
double from her employment, which was
weaving horse-hair chains, on small
iron pin stuck in Gus hion before her.
The man sat down, and wiped his face
with his handkerchief.
Well, John" said the woman, 'is i,
true that they are both dead p
Aye-they were gone three days
before | went. The fever has carried
away half Evertham. William died first
and Annie an hour after"
An ye had to take The young un ~
said the woman.
Why, yes. | thought she'd be more
use than TO 60 to The workhouse. No
but folks offered to take Amy, for though
they were only newcomers in the village
it was said that every one liked them"
At the mention of her name the child
raised her large, dark eyes, which looked
heavy and swollen with weeping, and
drew close to the man.
The woman, who was about to speak
stopped, and stared at her a moment.
odd they leave anything after them.!'
she said. ..
Well, William was not at work when
he got the fever, but the minister gave
me this pound for the child"
The woman clutched it eagerly, anC
secured i. in her bosom.
Supper is over" said she; "but
there's some cheese left, an I'll get ye a
mug of beer an some bread now"
The bread was brought, and Amy
Hartly sal down with her uncle. She
liked him better than the woman for tho
che had never seen him before, and he
had said little to her on the road. he wa.
her fathers brother, and was like him
So the child clung TO him with the mys
terious instinct Of kindred.
When he was done he got up, and
said he thought it was time for him to bt
off. Amy learned after, that he was {
scene.shiher in the theater, and worked
at making artificial flies for angling during
the day.
The child, who seemed too tired ant
sorrowful to eat, gazed around her. All
was noise, buslle, and confusion. A
variety of trades seemed carrying on in
the room. She had been used to flower.
and gardens. and poor but quiet home
and all seemed very strange to her. II
one corner a boy was teaching white mict
to dance beside him poor cripple wa'
making colored paper toys. Two mer
were seated on small table making sail
ors' clothes. By-and-by boy with {
hand organ and little blind girl with ;
parcel OF baskets and wicker bird cages
came in. This last was Amy's cousin
Ruth the smallpox had carried off hel
uncle's two other children the previous
winter; this one was spared, but will
the loss Of sight
~ hope, child, ye havn'l brought tn,
fever in yer Clothes" said her aunt a.
she pointed out her sleeping, place;
pallet stretched on the floor Of little cell
like passage, at one side OF the room.
Amy said that all her clothes had beel
burned, and kind lady had given he
what she had on, and what was in tn,
bundle.
"I thought they were over fine 70
poor folks children" muttered the wo
man.
Amy's bed-fellow was Ruth. She wa
two years older than herself, but III
child thought she was not as good al
some blind people. She had known oil
Ralph, the carrier, who used often I
give her ride upon his donkey, Dobbir
and little Tina. that sang in the choil
and used TO string necklaces Of daises fc
her. Ruth was sullen, aud kicked he
when she came near her in the bed. Br
little Amy was gentleness itself, and no,
the shadow Of great sorrow was to
heavy on her heart too heed even unkint
ness. She knelt meekly down and sal