The Kenosha telegraph and tribune. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1859-1860, 1859-10-20
THE SACRIFICE.

Paiiu Aitll n uoZcn golu pieces.
~ Yes, you are, Edmund, the very best hus-
band in the world" and she lifed up her sweet
| face, beaming with smiles as a June day with
sunshine
THANK you, thank you, for the very hatter-
ing words. And now, dear, want you to have
the cloak by next Christmas. am very anxious
to see how you look in it."
"But, Edward" gazing steadily into the
shining pieces in her rosy palm, "you know we
are not rich people, and it really seems piece
of extravaganza for me to give thirty dollars for
a velvet cloak"
"No, it is not either. You deserve the cloak,
Mary, and I've set my mind upon having it,
Then it'll last you many years, that it will be
more economical in the end than less ex-
pensivs article"
1t was evident the lady was predispossd to
conviction. She made no further attempt to re-
flute her husbands arguments, and her small
fingers closed the gold pieces, as she rose up,
saying
swell, dear, the supper has been waiting for
half an hour, and 1 know you must be quite
hungry.
Edward and Mary Clark were the husband
and wife of year. He was book-keoper in
a large establishment, with a salary Of fifteen
hundred dollars. His fair young wife made
little earthly paradise of his cottage home in the
suburbs of the city, for within its walls dwelt
two lives that were set like music to poetry,
keeping time to each other. And dwslt, also,
the peace which God giveth to those who love
him
Mrs. Clark came into the room suddenly, and
the girl lifted her head, and then turned it
away quickly, but not until the frst glance told
the lady that the fair face was swollen and
stained with tears.
Janet Hill was young seamstress whom
Mrs Clark had occasionally employed for the
last six months. She was always attracted by
her young, bright face, her modest yet dignifed
manner, and the lady saw at once that some
great sorrow had smitten the girl,
0beying the promptings of warm, impulsve
heart she went to her and laid her hand on her
arm saying seftly,
won't you tell me what is troubling you,
Janet9"
Nothing that snybody can help" answered
the girl, trying still to avert her face, while the
tears swelled in her eyes from the effort she
made to speak.
but perhaps can. At any rate, you know
it does us good sometimes to confde our sorrows
to friend, and ! need not assure you that
sincerely grieve because of your distress"
AND SO, with kind words, and half caressing
movements of the little hand, laid on the seam
stress arm, Mrs. Clark drew from her lips her
sad story.
She was poor orphan. supporting herself by
her daily labors. and she had one brother, just
sixteen-three years her Junior. He had been
for some time kind of under-clerk in large
wholesale establishment, where there was every
prospect of promotion, but he had seriously in
jured himself by lifting some heavy bales of
goods, and at last dangerous fever set in, which
had finally left him in so exhausted a state that
the doctor had no hope of his recovery.
And to think that should never see him
again, Mrs. Clark" cried the poor girl, with
fresh burst of tears. To think he must die away !
there, among Strangers, in the hospital, with no
loving face to bend over him in his last hours,
or brush away the damp curs from the forehead
which dear mamma used to be so proud Of Of
George-my darling brigbfaced little brother
George" And here the poor girl broke down
in storm of sobs and tears.
Poor child, poor child" murmured Mrs. !
Clark. her sweet eyes swimming in tears. |
How much would it cost you to go to your |
brother, and return?" she asked at last.
About thirty dollars have not so much
money in the world You see it is nearly four
hundred miles off; but could manage to sup
port myself after got there"
A thought passed quickly through Mrs Clark 8
mind. She stood still few minutes, her blue
eyes fixed in deep meditation. At last she said
kindly,
Well, my child, try to bear up bravely, and
we will see what can be done for you and the
warm, cheerful tones eomforted the heart of the
seamstress
The lady went up stairs and took the pieces
out of her ivory portemone. There was brief
struggle in her mind " Somehow I've set my
heart on this velvet cloak" she thought, land
Edward viii be disappointed. was gong out
to select the velvet this afternoon. But them
there's the dying hey, lying there with strange
faces all about him, and longing as the slow
hours go by. for the sight of the sister who loves
him, and would not this thought haunt me every
time put on my new cloak After ALL my old
broadcloth is not so bad, if it is only turned.
And l am sure, / can bring Edward over to
my way of thinking. No, you must go without
the cloak this time, and have the pleasure of
knowing that you've smoothed the path going
down to the valley of the shadow of death,
Mary Clark. And she closed he portemonie
resoutely, and went down stars
Janet, put up your work this moment-there
is no time to be lost Here is the money. Take
it and go to you brothor"
The girl lifted her eyes moment, almost in
bewilderment, to the lady, and then as she com
pretended the truth, cry of such joy broke from
her lips, that its memory never faded from the
heart through all the after years of Mrs. Clarks
| life.
'Georgs George!" The words leaped from
her lips as the sister sprang forward to the low
bed where the youth lay, his white sharpened
face cleaning deathlike from amidst his thick
yellow curs.
He opened his large eyes suddenly-a flush
passed over his pallid face He stretched out
his thin arms, exclaiming, 20 Janet! Janet
l have prayed God for the sight of you once
more before died.
g His pulse is stronger than it has been for