The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1867-02-21
The Six-penny Calico.


eyes from her book. Who is she p'
" What is her name?" were the questions
OF the girls; but no one knew. g | sus-
pect she is not much," said one of the
girls,
Do you see her dress ?" said l.
Why, believe it is nothing but six
penny calco?"
" Poor thing! she must be cold" al
can't imagine how person can wear cal
leo this cold day." said another, whose
| fine plaid was the admiration of the school,
l must say like to see person dress
ed according to the season." remarked
another" that is, if people can afford
1t, she added, in manner plain enough
meaning that her father could.
None Of US went to take the stranger
by the. hand and welcome her as the com
panion of our studies and our play. We
stood aloof and stared at her with cold
and unfeeling curiosity. The teacher
called her Susan. When she first came
to repeat her lesson, she took a seat be-
side the rich plaid. The plaid drew
proudly away, as if the six penny calico
might dim the beauty of it's colors A
slight color flushed Susan's check but
her quiet remained the same. 1t was
some time before she ventured on the play
ground and then it was only to stand on
one side and look on, for we were slow in
asking her to join US.
On one occasion we had harder arith-
metic lesson than usual, completely baf-
fling our small brains. Upon comparing
notes, none Of us had mastered it. "Pll
ask Susan Of her success" SAID one of my
class. g 1t is quite unlikely she has"
replied; " do stay here; besides, what if
she hasY"
" will 60" she answered. Away she
went, ard, as it appeared, Susan and she
were the only members of the class ready
for their lesson. Susan had been more
successful than the rest of US, and kindly
helped my friend to overcome the difficult
ties Of the lesson.
BY and by took to patronizing her.
" She is really very nice body, and
ought to join us more in our play" we
said. So we used to gather around her
desk during school hours, and make her
{" one of US in the playground. In fact
began to have sort of liking for her
There was something in Susan which call
ed out our respect.
One Saturday afternoon, as was looking
out of the window, wishing for something
to do, my mother asked me to join her in
a little walk. Dressed in my new cloak,
warm furs, and hat, l was soon ready
Ny mother turned into narrow street
" Where, mother" I asked, " are you 60
ing in this vulgar part of the town."
. Not vulgar, my dear" she said. A
very respectable and industrious part of
our population live here" Not fash
ionable certainly" l added.
" And not vulgar because not fashiona-
! bic, by any MEANS" she added. They
stopped before an humble looking house,
and entered the front door
Then gently opening a side door, she
! paused 4 moment on the threshold. -
= Come in" said voice from within.
&" Pray do not RISE" said my mother,
going toward an afflicted, lady like wo-
man who sat in an arm chaif. " You
look better than when saw you before"
l was introduced, and fancied the inva-
lid looked at me with sort Of admiring
surprise, as she took my hand, and hoped
should prove worthy of such mother.
Then, while mother and she were talking,
| sat down and took notes with my eyes
of everything in the room. 1t looked
beautifully neat and the furniture had
evidently seen better days. BY and by
mother asked for daughter. q She has
gone out on some errands," was the an
swer. The dear child is a great bless
ing to me" and tears filled her eyes.
" She will return soon. She.has gone
to carry some work which she has con-
trived to do in her leisure moments. The
lfsacrifce of the child is wonderful
4 little while ago, an early friend who
had found me out and has been kind to
me as you have" (tears came into the
speakers eyes) "sent her handsome win
ter dress, s. o motherw she said g this is
to costly for me, when you want some
warm flannel SO badly. See mother"
she said, " shall enjoy this calico hun
dred times more than the finest dresses in
the world, while you can have your fan
mel" Excuse me for telling it, but you
know mothers heart. There is her
step, she is coming"
The outer door opened. How opged
to see the conner! Z" am sure | shall
admire and love her." | said to myself
The latch was lifted. a young girl en-
tered, and my schoolmate Susan stood be
fore me- I could have sunk to the ground
for my shame. How wicked my pride!
how false and foolish my judgment! Oh!
how mean did my own winter dress ap
pear before the six-penny calico.
/ was almost sure mother had managed
all this; for she had way of making me
see my faults aud making me desire to
cure them, without ever saying much
directly herself This, however, did not
come about by her design; God had
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