Cleveland daily leader. [volume] ([Cleveland, Ohio]) 1865-1873, 1865-11-04
DAILY LEADER.
THE
[Fton Harper. Marniine fur Natcn

b Tue . NabDy. She had -rejeetel
Ezra twice, and had included his mothe
IN the rejection. Why shonld she stoJ
and ponder ver those ehimneys, with tina
D basis of remembrance, seems inconsistent
but she stood as one taking a fond leave
ike the soldier upon the hill. At tina
moment Ezra was eating his supper O.
bread and milk, thickly dashed with
huckle-berrieS and allowing there wa,
nothing equal TO them In their season; but
his mother, who was watching him, pre-.
tended to make a moan over the necessity
she was under of going into the swamp tc
pick more for him. q EsR
Rheumatic fever and colo would not
keep you from picking every daried one,
mother, Ezra said. ~ T'iiHH
Now, Ezry, you know you lie; why, /
haven't dried one yet"
Folks are crazy in huekle-berry tifhe
they are ferocious to get into the woods
and swamps, where a cat-bird would be
ashamed ~tolsqual1.7
"What do you think ofthe Florida swamp
where human beings live for days on buck
leberries p asked his mother, wishing to
divert his mind
"Mother, our minister will spoil you
with his politics. 1 wish he would attend
to his gospel business, and not distress
you with florida" "f
"Fellow-creatures, Ezry.2
"ibere, there; go on with the buckle
berry crop exclaimed Ezra; there's no
philanthropy in that Ff7aY
That's what l mean all along, Ezry 1
am glad to convince you that [ had bet
ter do something"
"The combat is over, then" said Ezra.
"fOr the present, and I'll take a smoke
If Ruth, when she started from home in
search of field lilies, had been aware of
coming in sight of Ezra's chimnevs she
would have taken some other path; but
here she was on a lonely road, and there
they were, set in the deep border of woods
in the west. The enchantment of the
summer eve, with its splendid sky, its
odorous thickets of dog-roses, swamp-ap-
PIE blossoms, and wild grapes; its sleepy
birds, who could not resist the rosy brill
fancy Of the atmosphere, and sang faint
broken songs of delight in their leafy
beds its sweet silence and repose; aggra-
waited her remembrances against him, it
offered such a contrast to his appearance
in his evenings rest and leisure. His
shirt-sleeves were rolled up on bis arms,
of course, which, like his complexion, |
were ham-colored, and of a hairy muscu-
larity. Probably wisps of hay stuck in
his hair, and husks Of rye were dropping
from his clothes he was b~are-legged, an
-dOubtedly, and most likely was taking his
supper on the old doorstep. She struck
from the bushes along the path Struggling
bits. Of hay which had caught from passing
loads, and twisted them, ~viciously wishing
that she could twist the whole thing out
Of her mind. But that was impossible;
she must live where Ezra lived, and still
lneetfhe Widow Nabby. She could never
probably move away from Repton, where
was but one church, one society.
She walked to and fro between the thick
cts till the %chimneys disappeared in the |
of the woods, the sky faded, and
The dew fell When she arrived at her
mothers d or she thought of the errand
he had been on, and that inquiries would
,e made for the lilies. Though her moth
II, Mrs. Bowen, sympathized with her in
to Ezra Clark, she knew a scold-
ng would come if a confession was made
# such erratic unnecessary reverie; for
Mrs. Bowen was matter-of-fact, and chose
to love nor hate from any ideal
point of view. Ruth concluded to say
concerning the chimneys, and
the house with shawl and bonnet |
n her hand.
"Your aunts vases will not be filled this
I perceive said Mrs. Bowen. !
Ruth shrugged her shoulders, and shook
,ut her dress. -r
@What have you been doing aH-tIHs4I
ime, Ruth? Your dress is awfully be-
-raggled." Z!
"Bespangled you mean, mother, with
ew.' !
What I mean is that 1 have to wash J
nd iron your dresses. Where did you F,
o." !
q have been walking on the upper road;
"Any mosquitoes % 1 |
Suppose Aunt Eliza should ask me 10 :
ONE and live with herr Ruth asLod re- :
:
"1can't suppose so; it is to0afoolish an :
lea. Eliza knows that this is our place" !
~ / wish to leave Repton. |
"No, you do not; where should we be !
/, much respected as here? Who would I
are to learn that once we were respectable :
hen we went about begging for work2 !.
What do people think of poor widows gen I
That's what l am, when you !
JllC " tlb DOAACo u lhC AnlDR- OOn 1 -
think that lam going to throw awayl 4
lie result of sixteen years of labor and :
Ianagement. I expect to live and die I
it'll the best here.n l
Ruth shuddered at the idea of being in :
ny spot where her claims to equality with =
le highest might not be recognized as Z
asking for work any where, it could
Of be done. II
What ails you ~ continued her moth Z
!. /" Has your evening walk unsettled :
mind 1t Is not best to speculate on =
change; if you will dwell on one, L
Ike into consideration the im~possihility of 3
our ever ever gathering again the com .
we now have. Once give up our
Duse, which is in order, aud our furniture Y
all our belongings, in short-bow could !
{. ever raise money to start afresh2 1t u
IS taken me years TO roll together what
tile we7have." l.,
Ruth was silenced and convinced. =
Hannah Brown called while you were "
It" Mrs. Bowen begun again. "She ,
lis me she is going up to Ezra Clark's !
ext week to quilt for Mrs. Clark, who =
links her time may come any minute, =
Id that she had better get together all Z
ie bed-clothes Eara's wife will need dur ~
g her lifetime" u
q Ezra's wifeI" exclaimed Ruth, with =,
,ntempt. aWhere Willie find herr What =
md Of quilts did Hannah say old Clark d
as getting up p u q
" Furniture chintz, very handsome,
hich Mrs. Clark bought five years ago"
"Ezrais wife is welcome to themI" .
"He will find some suitable person, I :,
ire say-one that the old woman can u
anage, and one who will feel under OBJ y
cation to him for a home. 1t is bedtime,
nth; take all your things up stairs-I do "
1t want to begin the morning in a litter.
bose bosoms are to be stitched the first =
wn. =
q Mother,s Ruth asked, -drowsily, after o.
had been IN bed some time, "haven't
e got s-good many b~edquAts2" n
" Not one Mrs. Bowen answered, gap Il
that hasn't come to darning."
Mrs. Bowen-asLhe had said, was a !,
idow, and a genteel one. Her husband Ut
ID been genteel also, but his geHtility did
1t prevent long absences from home, in III
le of whichvhe died without any effects q,
least none ever reached his wife; and u
e was obliged, at the age of thirty, to IL
st about her for means to live by and to D..
ing up Ruth, then six years old. For a So
W years she kept an infant school-that 81
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