The weekly Anglo-African., 1859-07-30
THE POOR WAsHERwoMAN.

bed-quilt in the wash to-day. 1t does not
really need to go, either; but I think |
will send it down"
Why will you put it III, Mary, if it
does not need to go?" asked her good old
aunt, in her usual expressive way.
Why, you see, aunt, we have but
small wash to-day; SO small that Susan
will get through by one o'clock at latest,
and / will have to pay her the same as
though she worked till night; So"
Stop moment, DEAR" said the old la
dy, gently, stop moment and think.
Suppose you were in the situation poor
Susan is, obliged, you tell me, to toll over
the wash-tub six days out of seven, for
the bare necessities of life; would you not
be glad, once in while, to get through
before night, to have few hours of day
light to labor for yourself and family, or,
better still, few hours of rest2 Mary,
dear, it is hard way for woman to earn
living; begrudge not the poor creature
an easy day This is the fourth in success
sion she has risen by candle light, and
plodded through the cold here and there
to her customers houses, and toiled away
her very existence. Let her go at noon,
| if she gets through; who knows but that
she may have come from the sick bed of
some loved one, and she counts the hours,
yea, the minutes, till she can return, fear
| inc that she may be one too late Put it
back on the bed, and sit down here while
| tell you what the washerwoman endured,
because her employer did as you would to
make out the wash,'
And the old woman took off her glasses,
and wiped away the tears that from some
cause had gathered in her aged eyes, and
then, with tremulous voice, related the
promised story:
There never was more blithesome
bridal than that of Ada r. None ever
had higher hopes, or more blissful antici-
pations. Wedding the man of her choice,
one of whom any woman might be proud,
few, indeed, had a SUMMER life in prospect
than she.
And for ten years there fell no shadow
on her path; her home was one of beauty
and rare comfort; her husband the same
kind, gentle, loving man as in the days of
courtship; winning laurels every year in
his profession, adding new comforts to his
home, and new joys to his freside. And,
besides these blessings, God had given an
other; little crib stood by the bedside,
its tenant golden-haired baby boy, the
image of its noble father, and dearer aught
else could not offer.
But | must not dwell on those happy
days; my story has to do with other ones.
1t was with them as it has often been with
others; just when the cup was sweetest, it
was dashed away. A series of msfor
tunes and reverses occurred with startling
rapidity, and swept away from them eve
rything but love and the babe Spared to
one another, to that they bore brave
heart, and in distant city began new
fortune. Well and strongly did they
struggle, and at length they began to see
the sunlight of prosperity shine upon their
home. But little while it stayed, and
then the shadows fell. The husband sick
ened and lay for many month upon a
weary couch, languishing not only with
mental and bodily pain, but oftentimes for
food and medicines. All that she could do,
the wife performed with faithful hand.
She went from one thing to another, till at
length she who had worn satin garment
on her bridal day, toiled at the wash-tub
for the scantiest living. In dreary win
ter, long before light, she would rise morn
ing after morning and labor for the dear
ones of her lowly home. Often she had
set off through the cold, deep snow, and
groped her way to kitchens, which were
sometimes smoky and gloomy, and toiled at
rubbing, rinsing, and starching, not unfre-
quently wading knee-deep in the drifts, to
hang out the clothes, that were frozen ere
she fastened them to the line. And when
night came, with her scanty earnings, she
would again grope through the cold and
snow, to her oftentimes lightless and fire
less home; for her husband was too sick,
much of the time, even to tend to the fire,
or strike light. And oh, with what shiy-
ering heart she would draw near, fearing
she would be too late 1t is fact that
for six weeks, at one time, she never saw
the face of her husband or child, save by
lamplight, except on the Sabbath How
clad she would have been to have had,
once in while, small washing gathered
for her
"One dark winter morning, as she was
preparing the frugal breakfast, and getting
everything ready before she left, her hus-
band called her to the bedside.
"Ada,' said he, almost in a whisper,
1 want you to try and get home early to-
night; be home before the light goes; do,
Ada
"I'll try answered she, with a choked
utterance.
DO try, Ada. have strange de-
sire to see your face by daylight. To-day
is Friday; | have not seen it since Sun
day l must look upon it once again
"' Do you feel worseP asked she, anx-
iously, feeling his pulse as she spoke.
"' No, no, think not; but l do want
to see your face once more by daylight.
| cannot wait till Sunday
"Gladly would she have tarried by his
bedside, till sunlight had stolen through
their little window; but it might not be.