The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1864-01-15
A SACRIFICE CONSUMED.
A TOUCHING EPISODE OF THE
WAR.
From Harper for January.

A low room, scanty but neat furniture,
a small stove shooting red beams into the
growing shadows /; slight, STOPPING fig
ure at the window, using up the lingering
light for her busy needle. The fingers,
pricked and thin they were, moved with
nervous rapidity, now and then pushing
away impatiently the stray locks of brown
hair that would wave and ripple down on
her forehead in pretty, girlish way,
strangely in contrast with the face that
looked SO old and careworn. A shrinking
mouth and eyes that looked-well, they
might have power, you might say, after
watching them awhile; tonight they were
only dull. This was the picture. She
stitched ceaselessly on silk robe, whose
richness seemed to laugh at the meagre
room and its poorly draped occupant.
Very fast she sewed, the work must be
done by tonight but the thoughtless
western light crept away to its home in
the hills, and left her. She laid down
her sewing, put her hands to her strained
eyes moment, and sighed YEARLY. But
there was no time for rest, and in mo.
ment her lamp was burning and her face
bent again over her work. When it was
finished she tied on her bonnet, folded the
costly silk with CARE. and started to go
out. She turned round, however, before
she blew out her lamp, to glance over the
room but it looked bare and lonely no
voice to speak to her out of the stiffness,
no kind eyes to pity her WEAKNESS
By one of those sudden surges of feeling
which rush upon US when the physical
strength is overtaxed, the long pent-up
suffering that her toll and desolation had
made burst into wall These constant
drudging days-for what were they? To
warm, and clothe, and feed herself, and
herself only-to work, eat, sleep, and work
again, alone. Was this life? AS in a
picture the dragging years came before
her, and lOomed up in the future merci-
lessly.
Oh, these hours of dark prophecy =
sterner than the sOrrowful Past, more Bit
ter than the troubled Present, what WON
der is it that when their cold hand touches
us we shrink and faint beneath it? The
pale woman bowed her face in her hands
and cried out, sharply,
"Alone, all alone! No home, no love
always, always! o Christi"
think He heard her, for He knew she
loved Him. The word seemed to give her
strength, and the spasm passed away in a
few moments. Some thought seemed to
strike her which she repelled-a picture of
some face perhaps it was, which she ought
not to see just then. She put her pain
back, down deep into her heart, to go on
with her life and trust to Him.
It was almost dark when she reached
the street door; but her errand must be
done, and drawing her veil closely about
her face, the seamstress stepped out hur-
riedly on the pavements.
i am giving you no sickly sentimental
ism when let you into the secret of her
moment of pain. The heart Ofevery woman
calls to God out of its own solitude, in
such life as hers, with a bitterness He
only can fathom. You shall not blame
her nor pronounce her weak, that she
beats her wings against the prison door
and cries for her mate to open the door
and sing to her. And, ! am sure, the
humblest birds can make melody which
God loves to hear. They may build their
nests among the low grasses and daisies /;
but perhaps the song is sweeter then, for
it has so tar to rise.
This woman took her loneliness as God
sent, and bore it, for the most part, health
fully. He must have some object for her
existence; she would work out the prob
lem with tireless faith. This night, as she
passed by brightly-lighted houses in her
walk, and saw the home groups, like dis
tant fairy pictures, through the windows,
the happy mothers faces, and little chill
dren climbing on their fathers knees
she could not help it, the remembrance of
that desolate room was fresh-she chOked
and clasped her hands tightly together,
then wiping away the tears, angrily hur-
ried on faster than before. The errand
accomplished, holding fast to the scanty
price of her labor, she turned to go home.
1t grew darker. People peered curious
ly under her bonnet as she passed the
shop windows. One man stopped when
he saw her, turned and followed. She
walked faster, so did he; she turned
sudden corner, but started and screamed
slightly, as she heard his step behind her
and hand touched her shoulder.
''Ruth"
"Oh, John! Mr.. John didn't know
it was you"
"Did l frighten you? ann sorry.
will make up for it now by seeing you safe
home, if you will let me-"
He drew her trembling hand through
his arm quietly, and walked on with her.
'Why are you out so late ?" he asked?
81 had to take back Mrs. Alden's dress,
and it wasn't finished till dark, +" said Ruth;
and as vision of the lonely room came
up again at this she hurried to change the
subject.
care you just out of the store?" she
asked.
eyes; as I'm the only clerk, you know,
cannot be spared early. l get tired"
"Do you ?" said the seamstress, quickly,
with smothered tenderness. 81 am very
sorry"
They were passing a street lamp just
then, and the light fell full upon her face.
You would hardly have known it for the
same that bent over the ceaseless needle
in the darkening room. Her cheeks were
rosy with exercise and excitement. her