Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1860-03-28

CdCicS UclOIe ullll5 anu Watching "HAAo0 NJ
eats Poor Samson. Her life would be
drear indeed without his tender pity
Ayel and while she eats, some memories Of
her own short life dim her eyes with tears.
OH that little farm near Windsor Forest,
where they made festival on Christmas
days; those days when she had father and
mother, and baby-brother, too. Those
days for which there was such genial,
though humble preparation; when mother
always went to the neighbOring town and
bought her new frock, and father always
brought home fine sprigs of holly from a
tree on Brecket's upland, she accompanying
when the snow lay not too deep, and the
cold was not too severe, Mother she has
now none; father, where is he? Will he
ever come again? So she bends her head
and weeps her desOlate tears.
AS afternoon wears on she finishes her
task; makes some tea from an ounce Sam
son bought her the day before; finds a
scrap of candle hidden up like precious
treasure; and with it comes book-Sam-
sons gift, also-from some other hiding
place.
When tea is over and the book wearies,
as the long night steals on, she gets forth
her poor box, to look within at the red and
black frock her father bought her before he
went away, for none more proyident than
he of the comforts of his darling child
What a precious little frock it is to her,
small and short though it be nOwl She
well remembers how and when he gave it;
and as her tears come anew, thinking 50,
she says, in her agony of spirit-"Father,
ather, come; or Emmy must die in this
drear and cruel place.
A knock-whose can it be- Perhaps
Samson's. She drops the little garment,
and hurries up stairs. Unlatching the
door and peeping round the chain, she
shows her pretty face.
docs Quilcher live here?''
Yes, sir"
"Does Emma Tucker live here?"
"Pm Emma, sir"
'let me in, then"
"Please, sir, Mrs Quilcher said 1 was
not to undo the chain"
Undo it, darling; father asks"
Undo it? Yes, she dashes it back, and
is gathered into his arms. Long and pas
sionately she cleaves to him, for to her it is
like resuscitation from the dead. But
he, calmer than she, lets her weep upon his
breast, whilst he closes the door. Then,
when they have mingled their tears togeth-
er, and he has comforted her soul by tell
ing her that he has come to fetch her, and
they viii never be parted any more, he sets
her down, and.she leads him to the kitchen.
The fire lends cheerfulness, but does not
hide Its look of sordid squalor, or disguise
its unwholesome smells Everything bris-
ties with locks-the salt-bo1 and the can
dle-bOx have each pad-lOck-tangible
signs of the soul which put them there
for where there are many locks there, be
sure, is meannes of soul, and nature in its
lowness is Of the coarsest human clay.
He sets her on his knee; he wonders at
her pretty face, though thin and pale; he
kisses her poor chapped and swollen hands;
a blessed mendicament which, be sure. will
heal; he lets her head lie upon his breast,
and mingles his tears with hers. For many
minutes they sit thus in silence, she only
breaking it by one low pathetic cry, :'Fath-
-er, father, take me away"
81 will, 1 will; only we mnsn't steal
away like thieves Wen wait TIL these
people come home What time will that
be?"
She says she does not know. Itmay be
ten, or twelve, or even later.
"Well, we'll wait, for must tell them
what think of their barba-ous usage
But pack your things my dear, you must
be all ready to 60 then they come
She needs no invitation to this necessary
duty. The little box stands ready; her
things are very few, some sordid rags, and
that is all. She shows her father the little
frOck, all of which is left of the things he
had given her, and tells him how she was
crying over it when he knocked at the door.
He does not answer, something is futtering
at his heart, and his voice is still.
When the little box is ready, and her
bonnet and ragged shawl too, she comes
back to his knee and listens wonderingly
whilst he tells that he is now no longer
a poor man. That going to the Australian
diggings he prospered there Being a So
Der, careful man, he had husbanded his
gains, and when sufficient he had sailed to
New Zealand and bought land there. This
he had cleared, fenced, and plOwed, stocked
with cattle, and built himself log house
and outbuildings- All this he accomplish
ed, he had left his farm in careful hands
and sailed for England. where he had ar
rived about ten days before.
81 made way at once to Berkshire" he {
continues, "and this without forwarning,
as l was anxious to observe for myself how
your aunt was dealing with you For 1
had from time to time sent money to her for
your keeping and schooling. When thus
came upon her unawares, and it vast until
l had threatened her with the police that
she confessed that she had kept the money,
sent you off to London two years before
Some of this money she reluctantly gave up,
rather than see the inside of a jail But Icould 1
learn nothing of YOU. except what little the