The Feliciana Democrat., 1859-01-08
HISTORY OF A sCOLDING WIFE.
CEApTER I.


It small house, not more than large enough
for the twain," you would have thought
but there were some four or five haxcn heads
bobbing about in the currant aud sweet.bri.
or bushes that grew thickly by the front yard
fence heads in which perpetual motion seem
cd to be we'll on its way towards pefect devel.
opment, judging from the chattering of busy
tongues
There was O low door, wooden-barrcd, pan
try window on one side of it, at the east end
Of the house, and in the sunshine of the June
morning q tall, back.eyed, hustng wonal,
went busily back and forth before it, stopping
now md then to see as she said, "what mis-
chief the young ones we're into;" administer.
ing slight cuff here push there to keep
ing her that she must take care Of that baby
If she didn't-' and the rest would be lost
inside the door.
But at last there was cry that must have
aroused the "seven sleepers." had they been
in that vieinity-a cry that could come in such
voluminous force from no lungs but those of a
young, stout specimen Of babyhood- and in
n moment, Hester came, carrying the boy,
holding him, as one could see, with all the
strength Of her slight arms, and with look
Of tronble on her her face that would have
been more becoming some halfscore of years
in the future, sat down with him in the door
trying. in the time, with all the baby. pleasing
art she was master of, to quiet him. But no,
baby kicked and screamed, and grew purple
in the face by holding his breath he was warn,
and tired, and hadn't any idea Of laughing ut
the pink sun-bonnet which had put him in an
ecstacy Of delight an hour before
II never!" said Hester's mother, with q
very unamiabIe frown over her black eyes,
why can't you Keep him still? l don't be.
lieye you try.
II do try" answered Hester, quickly, with
little culver at the corners of her mouth ad.
ding. in an under-tone, as pouting look took
its place, "you never think ! do though"
II never think you do!' repeated her moth
er, sharply, "what dreadful ugly mother yon
have got, haven you? Here give him to me,
and 60 where you please, there's no use in try
ing to have you help me, or in wanting to make
good girl Of you, either
The child went out walking slowly, with her
fingers pulling at her bonnetstrings, giving
the lattice gate sharp slam as she closed it,
and looking steadily before her at nothing and
for nothing, yet with light in her eyes half.
wistful and half angry. She not hand
some, not even pretty Her fac was thin and
her complexion dark, her hair parted and bound
back tightly over her fore head, and her eyes
dark and deep though they were you would
say that they held scarcely more beauty than
bane. She walked on, down the road that
passed her home, into footpath that led
through the forest, then, with a burst of pas
sion, threw herself heedessly on the ground
II am wicked" she said, with the sobs break
ing through her words; wicked and naughty
and never shall be good, for grow worse
every day. l know it, and God knows it, but
! cant help it, He dOnl. wish | was dead
! don't care il it is wicked to say So Mother
don't like me, she never did, she never will
1t makes me mad to hear her fret at me, and
l believe she tries to make me ugly. Oh if |
had never been born"
CHAPTER H.
Father, please don't, they won't hurt any.
thing"
"DOn,t what do Won sllnnoee I'm noiro, IA