Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1865-03-29

TO see your face by daylight. To-day IS
Friday; have not seen 1t since Sunday. l
must look upon it once again.
Do you feel worse? asked she anxious
ly, feeling his pulse as she spoke.
No, no, | think not; but | do want TO
see your face once more by daylight. l can
not wait till Sunday
Gladly would she have tarried by hIs
bedside till sunlight had stolen through their
little window but it might not be. Mon
ey was wanted and she must go forth to la
Dor. She left her husband. She reached
the kitchen Of her employer, and with 4
troubled face waited for the basket to be
brought. \ smile played over her wan face
as she assorted Its contents. She could get
through easily by two . clock yes, and if
she hurried perhaps by one. Love and anx-
iety lent new strength to her wearied arms,
and five minutes after the clock struck one
she hung out the last garment on the line,
and was just about emptying her tubs, when
the mistress came IN with couple OF bed
quilts saying:
AS you have a small wash to-day, Ada,
think you may do these yet.
After the mistress had turned her back,
cry of agony, wrung from the deepest
fountain Of the washerwOman heart, gush-
ed to her lips. Smothering it as best she
could, she set to work again, and rubbed,
and rinsed, aud hung out. Ii was half past
three when she started for home, an hour
TOO late. And the aged narrator sobbed.
An hour too late. continued she after
a long pause Her husband was dying;
yes, almost gone. He had strength given
him to whisper few or1s TO the half fran
tic wife, 10 tell how he had longed to look
upon her face; that he could nor see her
then he lay in the shadow OF death One
hour she pillowed his head upon her suffer
ing heart, and then-he was at rest
Mary, Mary, dear and there was
soul-touching emphasis In the aged woman :
words-'be kind to your washerwoman.
Instead OF striving to make her days work
as long as may be, shorten It,. Tighten it.
Few women viii go out washing daily unless
their needs are pressing. No woman on her
bridal day ever expects to labor IN that way; {;
and be sure my niece, If she is constrained
to do so, it is the last resort. That poor
woman laboring now SO hard for you, has
not always been washerwoman. She has
passed through terrible trials, too [ can
read her story in her pale sad face. Be kind
to her; pay her what she asks, and let her
go home as early as she can"
You have finished in good time to-day
Susan, said Mrs. NJ, as the washerwoman,
with her cloak and hood on, entered the
pleasant room to get the money she had
earned.
Yes, ma am | have and my heart is re-
Heved OF heavy load, too; was so afraid
| should be kept till night, and I am need
ed so at home.
rs there sickness there?' said the old
aunt, kindly.
Tears gushed to the woman's eyes as she
answered. An, ma am, | left my baby
most dead this morning; he will be quite 80
tomorrow. | know it, / have seen it so
many times; and none but a child of nine
years to attend him. Oh | must go. and
quickly" And grasping the money She had
toiled for while her baby was dying, she
hurried TO her dreary home
Shortly after they followed her the
young wife who had never known sorrow,
and the aged matron whose hair was white
with trouble, followed her to her dreary
home, the home Of the drunkard's babes
She was not too late The little dying boy
knew its mother. At tmidnight he died, aud
then kind friends took from the sorrowing
mother the breathless form, closed the bright
eyes, Strengthened the tiny limbs, bathed the
cold clay, and folded about 1t the pure white
shrond yes, and they did more-they gave
what the poor so seldom have, time TO weep.
''Oh, aunt" said Mrs. NJ, with tears in
her eyes, IF my heart blesses you how
much must poor Susan Had it not been
for you she would have been too late. 1t
has been a sad, yet holy lesson. | shall al
ways now be kind to the poor washerwo-
man. But, aunt, was that story you told
me a true one-all true / mean?''
The reality of that story whitenad this
head when it had seen but thirty summers,
and the memory OF it has been one of my
keenest sorrows. 1t is not strange that [
should pity the poor washerwoman.