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


for restraint. My whole soul rose up,
aud cried out against the Deacon's wife.
answered
"True. A small thing But are
lies and murder small things, Mrs.
Adams? Murderers, and whosoever
loveth and maketh lie, are to be left
outside of the heavenly city. And, Mrs.
Adams, suppose it should appear that a
woman of high respeetability, moving
in the best society, and most excellent
housekeeper, has both those two tickets
for hell? Do you remember the others
that make up that horrible company in
the last chapter of Revelations? Mrs.
Adams, tie girl is DEADP
The Deacon's wife's hard face had
blazed instantly into passionate scarlet.
But | cared not for her, nor for man nor
woman. For the words said themselves,
and thrilled, and sounded fearful to me
also; they hurt me; they burnt from
my tongue as melted iron might; and,
scarcely knowing it, rose up and en-
phasized with my fore-fnger. And her
( face, at those last four words, turned
stony and whity y-gray, like corpse. /
thought she would die. Oh, it was fear
full to think so, ard to feel that she de-
served i'll For did. do now. For
reason as will, could not help feeling
as if ;inge of the poor helpless childs
blood was upon my own garments. do
we'll to be angry. 1t is not that l de
sire any personal revenge. Blu. have
feeling-not pleasure, it is almost all
pity and pain-but yet feeling that
sudden death, or lingering death, would
be small satisfaction of justice upon her,
for what she had rendered to another.
Her strong, hard, cruel nature fought
tigerishIy up again from the horrible
blow of my news. She was frightened
almost to swoouing at the thing that ]
told and my denunciation, and the deep
answering stab Of her own con-
science. But her angry iron will raj
! lied with an effort which must have
been an agony; her face became human
again, and, looking straight, and defiant
ly at me, she said, yet with difficulty:
"Ah I'll see if my husband ii hev
sech things said to me ! That's all y
And she turned aud went straightway
out of the house, erect and steady as
ever.
1t may seem triding story, and its
lesson a trihing one. But it is not So
neither triAing nor needless.
1t is a rare thing, indeed, for a wom-
an in this America to long and love to
have children. The only two women
whom l know in this large town who
do, are Mrs. O'Reilly, the mother of poor
Bridget, and-one more.
Poor old Mrs O'Reilly She came
to me this morning, and sat in my kitch-
en-, and cried so bitterly, and talked in
her strong Colkonian brogue, and rock
ed herself backwards and forwards, and
shook abroad the great lambent banners
of her cap border-a grotesque old
woman, but sacred in her tender mother
hood, aud her great grief. Her first
coming was to peddle blackberries in
the summer. asked her if she picked
them herself,
"Och thin and shure ~ the childher
to do the saam,'' said she. And what
wonderful music must the voice of her
youth have been! 1t was deep of into
nation, and heartfelt-rich, and smooth,
and thrilling yet, after fifty years of pow
erty, and toll. "Aud ids enough of thin
that's in id !'' she added, with a curious
air of satisfaction, and refectiveness.
"Iow many children have you?'
inquired.
She laughed, ard blushed, old wom-
am though she was; and pride, and
deep delight, and love, shone in her large
clear gray eyes.
"I've fourteen darlins, thank God for
livery wan Of thin And it's a purity
partly til ey areF
"Fourteenp exclaimed-"how love-
lyP' l stopped short, and blushed. My
heart had spoken. "But how
stopped again.
The old blackberry woman answered
me with tears and smiles. What a deep
rich, loving heart was covered out Of
sight in her squalid life 1t makes me
proud that felt my heart and my love
in some measure like hers and she saw
| it, too.
"An' it's yersilf, ma'am, that has the
mothers own heart in yez, to be shure
/ An I can see IL in yonr ewes. ma'am