The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-03-02
THE ICEBERG.

by this the spring know.
THE ICEBERG.
TcoNT1NUED.
well, Iwrote and told the lady all
about it, and she sent for her and the
baby, and called her Mrs. Sands
Esther wouldn't give me back the
letter with that in it, though it was
written for me; but I didn't care so
long as she was happy.
s'I took her down there, and oil the
way down she did nothing but cry
and talk about Sands. took her to
the owners house, and she saw the
lady and the boy, and left her there,
and went another voyage-not North,
though, you may guess I'd had
money enough to stop ashore, but I
never felt quite easy about it; so I
settled some of the money upon mo-
ther, and the rest upon Esther, with
out her knowing it, and went off.
''I got letter from-the owners
son, I suppose I ought to call him
now, instead of the boy seeing he
was quite the gentleman in the count
ing-house now.
cts here in the pocket of this
book"
He took the letter, old, crossed and
yellow, from the pocket, handed it
ME, and with his leave I copied it
afterwards. It ran thus:
DEAR BEN: I told you I'd write
soon, SO I'm now going to fulfill my
promise. I'm in the counting-house
got the drudgery to go through.
Governor says that no boys fit for
anything as clerk till he's done the
lowest work of the Office. You and
he think alike; recollect tarring down
that back-stay by your orders now. I
don't get much pocket-money, still
enough, you know, Ben; and Aunt
Nelly has given me couple of pis-
tolls. I can hit card six times out
of ten-at twenty PAGES.
My neck has got all right, except a
scar; and there's scar on the left
leg, where I hit it that day I fell on
the blocks.
That puts me in mind of Mrs.
Sands. I say, Ben, was she Mrs:
Sands, after all? You know what 1
mean. ''The boy" as you used to
call me, is quite out of mothers good
books, and Mrs. Sands, too, because
he won't tell for the ten thousandth
time the story of being on the ice.
I've had to tell so many people, I'm
SICK OF 1t, and mother wants me to
tell it over and over again; and as for
Mrs Sands, she's always bothering
me to know how he died. I liked
Sands we'll enough, yon know, but
didn't see him die, and was stupid
after I saw the sail, so could tell her
very little. She's marked in her
prayer-book the prayer the doctor
read over him when he was buried.
Everybody says you're next door to
a fool for going to sea again; but /
suppose you know best. Mrs. Sands
IS, after oil, nice woman, and mo-
ther takes to her uncommonly-treats
her more like daughter than a SER
want; and she's more like one, too.
know many girls that amt half as
ladylike as she is, spite of their silks.
I've got my clothes under her, and I
haven't had button off for weeks.
L used always to go about with a bit
OF string or cotton somewhere for o.
button. | say, Ben, if you were to
SUCK up to her, she'd have YOU. T
know. 1 saw her cry over your last
letter in her room.
"Td mentioned Sands in it, said
Ben, by way of explanation.
She's only widow, after ~: and
any one might be proud of that youna
Sands, he's such Jolly little chap
friends. He seems to like me. and
Mrs. Sands is never happier than
when I'm nursing him. She says I've
been near him, and he would have
nursed him. She means Sands
Goodbye, old fellow. Thanks for
feeding me with bone spoon. Mo
ther keeps it in her pocket, I think.
If you want friend, Ben, or money,