The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1867-11-14
The Doctors Match-Maki
BY JOHN @. WHITTIER. ~
8 a. ~ A.
TCoNCLUDED.1

CONCLUDED.
She seemed inevitably drawn to-
wards the sick and the suffering. In
their presence the burden of her own
sorrow seemed to fall Of. She was
the most cheerful and sunny-faced
nurse l ever knew; and /, always felt
sure that my own efforts would be
well seconded when / found her by
the bedside of patient. Beautiful
1t was to sec this poor young girl,
whom the world still looked upon
with scorn and unkindness, cheering
the Responding. and imparting. as it
were, her own strong, healthful life
to the weak and faint; supporting on
her bosom the heads of those, who,
while in health, would have deemed
her touch pollution, or to hear her
singing for the ear of thesdying, some
sweet hymn of hope or resignation, or
calling to mind the consultations of
the Gospel and the great love of
Christ.
Il TRUST" said 1, "that'the feelings
of the community were softened
towards her,
You know what human nature
is" replied the Doctor" and with
what hearty satisfaction we -abhor
and censure sin in others. 1t is a
luxury which we cannot easily forego,
although our own experience tells us
that the consequences of vice and err
ror are bitter enough without the ag
gravation of reproach and ridicule
from without. So you need not be
surprised to learn that, in poor Julia's
case, the charity of sinners like her.
self did not keep pace with the mercy
and forgiveness of Him who is in
finite in purity. NeverthelesssI will
do our people justice to say that her
blameless and self sacrificing life was
not without its proper effect on them. !"
What became Of Robert Barnett
| inquired. -
He came after an, absence Gfseve-
raj months, and called on me- before
he had even seen his father and
mother. He did not mention ulia,
but [ saw that his errand with me
concerned her Ispoke of her ex-
cellent departments and Suseful life,
dWelt on the extenuating circum-
stances of her error, andof her sim
cere and hearty repentance"
Doctor" said he, at length, with
hesitating and embarrassed man
ner, what would you think if |
should, tell you, after all that has
passed. [ have half madesup my mind
to ask-he to become my wife. =
Il should think better of it if you
had wholly made up your mind" said
/. And if you were my SON, Lwould
not ask you for a better wife than
Julia Atkins. Don't hesitate, Robert,
on account of what some -natured
people may say. Consult your own
heart first of all.
/ don't care for the talk of all the
busy bodies in town. he2 said, " but
| wish that father and mother. could
feel asyou do abouther.
" Leave that to me, said ;" they
are kind hearted and reasonable, and
| dare say will be disposed to make
the best of the matter, when they
find you are decided in your purpose"
did not see him again, but few
days after / learned from his parents
that he had gone on another voyage.
1t was now Autumn, and the most
sickly 'seasonl have ever known in
Il
wife both fell sick, and Julia en-.
bracedwith alacrity this Providential
opportunity to return to her fathers
house and fulfil the duties of a
daughter. Under careful nursery,
the Ensign SOON got upon. his
feet; but his wife, whose con-
stitution was weaker, soon sunk
under the fever She died better
than she lived, penitent and loving,
asking forgiveness of Julia for her
neglect and unkindness, and invoking
blessings on her head. Julia had
now, for the first time since the
death of her mother, a comfortable
home and fathers love and protec-
ton Her sweetness of temper, pa
tient endurance, and forgetfulness of
herselfiu her labors for others, grad
ually overcome the scruples and hard
feelings of her neighbors. Elder Sta
pies and Deacon Warner we've her
fast friends. The Deacon's daughter
the tall, blue-eyed, brown locked
girl you noticed at church the other
day-set the example among the
young people of treating her as their
equal and companion
One mid winter evening [ took
Julia with me to a sick patient of
mine, who was suffering for lack of
attendance. The house where she
lived was in lonely and desolate
place, some two or three miles below
US on a sandy level, just elevated
above the great salt marshes, stretch
ing far awayvto the sea. The night
set in dark and stormy. The fierce
northeasterly wind swept over the
level waste, driving the thick snow
clouds before it, shaking the doors