Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1867-04-24
THE SIX-PENNY CALICO.

not for moment lift her eyes from her book.
who is she ?' ''W hat is her name p
We're the questions of the girls; but no one
knew. Il suspect she is not much, said
one of the girls.
''Do you see her dress?" said |. ''Why,
[ believe it is nothing but six-penny cal
ico?''
Poor thing she must be cold' Il
can imagine how person can wear calico
was the admiration of the school. Il must
say like to see person dress according to
the season" remarked another-''that is,
if people can afford it, she added, in a
manner plain enough meaning that her IA
ther could
None of us went to take the stranger by
the hand, and welcome her as the compan-
ion of our studies and our play. We stood
aloOf, and stared at her with cold and un-
feeling curiosity The teacher called her
Susan. When she first came to repeat her
lesson, she took a seat beside the rich plaid.
The plaid drew proudly away, as if the six
penny calico might dim the. beauty of its
colors. A slight color flushed Susan 5 cheek
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 u.s.
On one occasion we had a harder arithme-
tic lesson titan usual, completely battling our
small brains. Upon comparing notes, none
of US had mastered it. ''I'll ask Susan of
her success, said one of my class. ut is
quite unlikely she has, [ replied do stay
here besides what if she has ?''as
Il will go,9' she answered. Away she
went, and as it appeared, Susan and she
were the only members of the class ready
for their lesson. Susan had been more sue
cessfui than the rest of US, and kindly help
ed my friend to overcome the difficulties of
the lesson.
BY and by I took to patronizing her.
''She Is really a 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 zone of us in
the play ground. In fact / began to have
In Susan which called 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
lTttle walk. Dressed in my new cloak, warm
furs, and hat, [ was soon ready. My moth
er turned into a narrow street. wv here,
mother" | asked, ''are you going in this
vulgar part of the town?'
mot vulgar, my DEAR" she said. ga
very respectable and industrious part of our
population live here" ''Not fashionable,
certainly" | added
''And not vulgar because not fashionable.
by any means,'' she added. They stopped
before an humble looking house, and enter
ed the front door,
Then gently opening a side door. she paus
ed a moment on the threshold. Come
in said a voice from within.
GEproy, do NOT - coil INV ofbnr
going toward an afflicted, lady-like woman
who sat in an armchair. ''You look better
than when ] saw you before" | was intro
duced. and | fancied the invalid looked at
me with a sort of admiring surprise, as she
took my hand. and hoped [ should prove
worthy of such a 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 her daughter.
'She has gone out on some errands, was
the answer ''The dear child is a great
blessing to me, y and tears filed her eyes.
''She will return soon. She has gone to
carry some work which she has contrived to
do in her leisure moments The self-sacri-
flee of the child is wonderful. A 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 winter dress, 80 mother!"
she said, 'tthis is too costly for me, when
you want some warm flannel so badly. See
mother" she said, II shall enjoy this cali
co hundred times more than the finest
dresses in the world, while you can. have
your flannel" Excuse me for telling it, but
you know a mothers heart. There is her
step, she is coming.
The outer door opened. How | longed to
see the comer! II am sure [ shall admire
and love her. said to myself. The latch
was lifted. A young girl entered, and my
schoolmate Susan stood before me | could
have sunk to the ground for my shame.
How wicked my pride how false and fool
ish my Judgment Oh how mean did my
own winter dress appear before the pen
ny calico.
[ was almost sure mother had managed all
this: for she had way of making me see
my faults and making me desire to cure
them. without ever saying much directly
herself. This, however, did not come about
by her design. God had taught me by his
providence.
As we walked home, my mother gave me
an account of Mrs. c., who had been
her early friend. She had lost her proper
ty and her husband, and had fallen into
great distress But that story is no matter
here. [ will only add that my judgment of
people was formed ever after according to a
truer standard than the dress they wore, and
that Susan and L became intimate friends.