Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1863-05-07

were a sweet household picture. sunshiny
with untailing good will, aid o.. dexter
ous neat handedness very rare in her PEG,
pie. My husband was looking at her one
day, and as she tripped away Oh some err
rand he observed:
"She is a graceful little saint. All her
attitudes are beatit1des."
Bridget was pure and devout enough for
the compliment; and had not been mar
red SO long but that I could excuse the
evidence OF his observation of another,
for the sake Of the neatness of the phra e.
| should have thought the unconscious
child anonymously lovely amongst brooms
and dust-pans, pots and kettles, suds and
slops and dishwater. had not been about
as much concerned among them myself.
Bridget had been with me only day or
two, when friend ard fellow matroB, in
the course of an afternoon call, apprised
me that there were reports that Bridget
O'Reilly was thief,-in fact, that she
had been turned away by Mrs. Adams for
that very offence, which she told me tout
of kindness, and with no desire to injure
the girl; but there is so much wickedness
among these Irish!'' She had heard this
tale, through only one person, from Mrs
Adams herself.
This troubled me; yet [ should have
quickly forgotten it. l met the same wo
man in several other directions within a
few days; and now it troubled me more,
Women are suspicious creatures. l don't
like to confess it, but it is true.
So | felt these stories. | could not find
it in my heart to talk to poor Bridget
about it. | could not tell her large heart
| ed old mother. This reluctance was en-
tirely involuntary,-an instinct. | wish |
had felt it more clearly and obeyed it al :
| together! There Is some fatal cloud of
! human circumstances that covers up from
our sight our just instructive perceptions,
makes Us drive them out before the me-
| chanical conclusions of mere reason; and
when our reason, our special human pride,
| has tailed Us, we say in our sorrow, | see
now; if | had only trusted my first i'm
pulse What is this clouda Is it origi.
nal SIM | asked my husband. He was
writing his sermon. He stopped and told
me with serious interest, -"This cloud is
that original or inbred sin which we re-
ceive from Adam; obscuring and vitiating
the free exercise of the original perfect
faculties willing them down, as it were,
from high native assimilation to the op-
erative methods of the Divine Mind, to
the painful, creeping, mechanical proceed
ures of the comparing and judging reason.
And this lost power is to be restored, we
may expect, by the regenerating force of
| conversion"
| know I've got the right; because, af-
for II h.,I &hop 4 To-
ton, he said [ was good preaching stock,
that the inquiry ',joggled up" his mind,
and suggested just what fayed in with his
sermon and afterwards / heard him
preach it; and now l have copied it out
of his manuscript, and have it all correct
and satisfactory. What will he do to me,
if he should see this in print2 But can't
help it. And what is more, don't be-
lieve his theological stuff. If it were true,
there would not so many good people be
such geese.
But whatever this cloud is, it now
| blinded and misguided ne. | quietly,
very quietly, put away some little moneys
| that lay about-locked up nearly all my
small stock of silver and 10Y scanty Jew
elry-locked my bureau drawers-count-
ed unobtrusively the weekly proceeds of
the washing-and was extremely watoh-
full against the least alteration of my man
ner towards my poor pretty maid.
1t might have been a week after this,
when my husband said one morning that
Bridget's eyes were heavy, and she had
moved with a start several times, as though
she were half asleep. Now that he spoke,
| saw it, and wondered that l bad not
seen it before; but | think some men no.
tice things more quickly than women. |
asked the child if she were well.
Eyes, ma'am," she said, spiritlessly,
"but my head aches"
| observed her and she dragged her.
self about with difficulty, and was pain
fully slow about her dishes. At tea-time
| made her lie down in my little back
parlor and got the meal myself, and made
her nice cup of tea. She slept little,
but grew flushed. Next morning she was
not tit to get up, but insisted that she was,
and would not remain in bed. But she
ate nothing-indeed, for day Or two she
had not eaten-and after breakfast she
grew faint, and then more flushed than
ever; seemed likely to have hard run of
fever; and [ sent for my doctor-a no.
m9opath
He came. saw, queried, and prescribed.
Doctor. like, he evaded my inquiry what
was the matter, so that | saw it was q
serious case. On my intimating as much,
he said, with sudden decision:
ON tell you what, madam. She may
be better Dy night. If not, you'd better
send for Ragford. He might do better
for her than l."
was EXTREMITY surprised, for Bagford
is vigorous allopath of the old school
drastic, bloody-and an uncomprcmising
enemy of " that quack," as he called my
grave young friend. | said as much. DR.
Nash smiled.
"Oh, don't mind it, so long as the
patients come 60 me. can very wei
afford to send him one now and then
The fact is, the Irish must feel their medi-
cine. It's quite often that raking dose
will cure 'em, not because it's the right
thing, but because it takes their imagiUa-
ton with it. The Irish imagination goes
with Bagford and against me; and the
wrong medicine with the Imagination il
better than the right one against it.
care more about curing this child than
5 do about him. Besides, "-and he grew
: grave" it may be no great favor to him.
[ obliged him to tell me that he feared
: the attack would develop into brain fever
: and he said something was on the girl:
3 mind. As soon as he was gone, | ran W
to poor Bridget, whose sweet face ant
5 great brown eyes were kindled, in hel
, increasing fever, into hot, fearful beauty
and now l could see steady, mourntul
l panied look contracting her mouth anC