Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1863-06-05

And sure now it's cryin' | am betimes
because I'll have no more!'
The dear, beautiful, dirty old woman :
| cried and laughed with her, and !
bought ten times as many blackberries
as | wanted and Mrs. O'Reilly and ]
were fast friends.
She and hers, her could man." her
sons and her daughters, were thence
forth our ready and devoted retainers,
dexterous and efficient in all manner Of
service, generous in acknowledging any
return that we could make them; re-
spectful, and self respectful true men
and women in their place, not unfit for
higher, and showing the same by their
demeanor in a low one.
They came in and went out among US
for long time, in casual employments,
until, with elaborate prefaces, and doubt
fol apologize circumlocutions, shyly and
hesitatingly, Mrs. O'Reilly managed to
! prefer her petition that her youngest
girl, Bridget, 10y name-tbere were few
junior boys-might be taken into my
family as a servant. | asked the old
woman a few questions about her daugh-
ter's experiences and attairments in the
household grace and economies; could
not remember her; thought | bad seen
all the "childher :" found that she had
been living with Mrs. Deacon Adams,
and had not been at my house. 1t was
only for forms sake that I catechized !;
Bridget came of course.
She was such maiden as her mother
must have been, one of Natures own
ladies, but more refined in type, texture,
and form, as the American atmosphere,
and food, and life always refine the child
ren Of European stock-slenderer, more
delicate, finer Of complexion, and
with soft, exquisite sweetness of voice,
more thrilling than her mothers, larger
and more heartfeltness of tone-and with
the same, but shyer ways, and swift
bushes and smiles. In one thing she
was a silent, reticent girl her tears were
not SO quick as her mothers, nor her
words; she hid her thoughts. She had
learned it of US secretive Americans, or
bad inherited it of her father, a silent,
though CHEEKY man.
Her glossy wealth Of darkbrown
eyes, long eyelashes, sensitive, delicately
cut, mobile red lips, oval face, beautifully
formed arms and hands, and 1.-the, grace
fuI, lady-like move ments, were a
sweet household picture, sunshiny with
unfailng good will, and of dexterous,
neat-handedness very rare in her people.
MY husband was looking at her one day
and as she tripped away on some errand
he observed:
She is a graceful little saint. All
her attitudes are beatitudes."
Bridget was pure and devout enough
for the compliment and had not been
married so long but that could excuse
the evidence of his observation of uno-
ther, for the sake of the neatness of his
phrase. l should have thought the un-
conscious child anonymously lovely
amongst brooms and dust-pans, pots and
kettles, suds and slops and dishwater,
had not been about as much concern
ed among them myself.
Bridget had been with me only day
or two, when a friend and fellow matron,
in the course of an afternoon call, appri-
sed me that there were reports that Bridg-
ct O'Reilly was thief--in fact that she
had been turned off by Mrs. Adams for
that very offence, which she told me out
of kindness, and with no desire to injure
the girl but there is so much wicked
ness among these Irish !" She had heard
this tale through only one person, from
Mrs. Adams herself
This troubled me yet should quick
ly have forgotten it. / 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. l could not tell her large
hearted old mother. This reluctance was
entirely involuntary, an instinct. l wish
| had felt it more clearly, and obeyed it
altogether! 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
mechanical conclusions of mere reason
and when our reason, our special human
pride, has failed US, we say in our sor-
row, see now; if had only trusted
my first impulsel What is this cloud