The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-10-25
VOLUME /.
NEW ORLEANS. SUNDAY, OCTOBER Is, 1865.
A NEW LIES WORK.
Martha Toliyar pushed the book from the
windOw-ledge, and leaned sullenly on her

elbows
IA great and beautiful thing to be alive
Umph! That depends" she muttered.
1t was some story, with dilutions of Car
lyle in it, that she was reading.
Martha's eyes were q reasonable gray, and
the projecting forehead, under the coarse
yellow hair, promised q good deal of
strength and intelligence; but hebrain be-
low was little muddled just now with half
comprehended Carlyle.
To think of living !" looking out into
the clear December night glimmering into
softer starlight, the gray eyes slowly filling
with tears. I" 1t might be worth a trial
to live-somewhere, where there would be
I I0o ha ,f ssI II csss a she " wess
she could be on the battlefield, perhaps"
her blood hot and her teeth clepched.
Given women could do something in hos
pitfalls they lived years in day there. But
here-here1
The clearer the thought of the full chival-
ric life yonder grew to her, the deeper was
the disgust on her face.
She caught the window sash as If it had
been an iron grating, looked up and down
yard, at the room within, with its white-
washed walls, rag carpet, and green and
yellow chairs. "Bahin with q cultural
outbreak, /" I'm sick of the whole Of it,"
Matthias three years of schooling at the
Seminary on the hill had not cleaned off
ulbuucT--idIu
even made her conscious of them. But apart
from that she was an honest, earnest CIR,
with good right feelings below all,
Well, it was true there was not much of
the polish or delicacy of life around her, you
might have thought, that evening. Her
they livedl in the front rooms of the Jail,
wide and well lighted enough, but with the
mllsty smell of crime about them somehow,
and the cells and their thieves just on the
other side of the hall wall.
She could hear two of the typsy women,
put in last night, yelping at each other
now. Her father, raw-boned man in
red shirt, was smoking a pipe at the other
side of the room, and below the window
where she stood was basement Kitchen,
where her mother, fat and jolly, was finish
ing the weeks washing the two Jail bull
dogs were snarling over a heap of bones at
the door. Martha had been starching all
day herself; her hands were stiff and
bleeding.
No, not an inviting, poetic life, certain
ly; yet may be (glancing at the glass; good
enough for her. She did herself injustice
in the look, perhaps, seeing only the steut
solid figure, and the features both heavy
and dull. She did not know how bit of
cheerfufness and smile kindled the whole
face into downright beauty, just as it did
I" Matty," said her father, knocking the
ashes ont of his pipe, "don't you want to
put on clean collar and thingsf Sam III
be mp before the meeting" he said.
90 It don't matter"
Her conscience twinged her sharply. She
went to the glass, smoothing her hair,
Strengthening her dress. Sam loved her as
nobody else ever would; for two years he
had been working hard, SO that they could
go to housekeeping in the spring, not say
ing much, but jogging Oh, day after day !;
she ought to remember that.
Well, she did. Poor Sam, with his snub
nose and bushy red hair, there was not much
Toomin his nature for heroic effort,r-How
absurd these longings of hers tonight
would seem to him!
1t was long time since Martha Tolivar
had spent SO much thought on her lovers |
nature. She had grown SO used to him. 1t
seemed to her they had been engaged since
they were children.
Down q by-street she could see the snug
little house he had rented for the spring.
Well, Sam would go on working in the nail
shop, then, and she would do her own cook
ing. Her life was ruled out straight to the !