Bloomsburg democrat. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1867-1869, 1868-11-25

U Dc UTOuSut' n pcuuthui s"He p'"y .
over her wan face as she assorted tscontent'
She could get through easily by two O'Clock
and perhaps it she hurried, by one. Low
and anxiety lent new strength to her wear
arms; aud fivc minutes after the clock struc
one, she hung the lust garment on the line
and was just about emptying her tubs, whe1
the mistress came in with couple Of bed
quilts, saying, As you have 80 small wasl
to-day Adaline, l think you may do thcs
yet A wall Of agony, wrung from tn
deepest fountain Of the heart, gushed to he
lips. Smothering it Us best she could, sh'
again took up the board and rubbed ant
rinsed and hung out. It was half past three
when again she started for home-an hou
too late."
And the aged martyr sobbed.
"An hour too late" continued she, after
long pause. "Her husband was dying, yes
almost gone. He had strength given t.
whisper few words 10 his half frantic wife
to tell her how he had longed to look up
on her face, and how that until the clock
struck two, he could see, but after that
though he strained every nerve, he lay in
the shadow Of death. One hour she pillow.
ed his head upon her suffering breast and
then-he was at rest.
But for the grudging or thoughtless ex.
action Of her mistress, she had once more
seen the lovclight flash in her husbands
eyes, and he have looked upon her who was
so dear.
Mary, Mary dear, be kind to your washer
woman. Instead of making her work as
long as may be, shorten it, tighten it.
Few women will go out to daily washing
unless their needs are terrible. No woman
on her bridal day expects to labor in that
way and be sure, my niece, if constrained
to do so, it is the last resort. The poor
woman, laboring SO hard for you, has not
always been a washer woman. She has
seen awful trials, too. can read her story
in her pale, sad face. Be kind to her, pay
all she asks, and let her 60 home as early as
you can.
"You have finished in good season to-day,
Susan" said Mrs. Merton, as the washer
woman, with her old cloak and hood on,
entered the pleasant chamber TO ask for her
pay.
"Ycs ma am, that have; and my heart
ma'am is relieved of heavy load. was
so afraid l should be kept till night, and l
am needed so ut home"
''Have you any sickness therc2' asked
aunt Hannah, kindly.
Tears gushed to the poor woman's eyes as
she answered. ''Ah ma am, / left my ba-
by most dead this morning; he will be quite
SO to morrow. l know it, I've seen it too
many times, and none but child of nine
years to tend it. Oh, Imust go, and quick
ly." And grasping the hard earned money
which she had toiled for while her baby was
dying that when dead it might have decent
shroud, she hurried to her home.
They followed her-the young wife who
had never known sorrow, and the aged
matron whose hair was white with trouble
followed her to her home; the home Of
the drunkard's wife, the wretchcd home Of
the drunkard's babes. She was not too late.
The wee dying hoy yet knew his mother, yet
crayei Il drlrght from her loving breast.
Ua'il midnight shc pi,owed him there, and
thcu Kind hands took from her the breath.
less form, shut the bright eyes, Strengthened
the tiny limbs, bathed the cold clay, and
wrapped about it the pure white shroud.-
Yes, and did more. They gave what the
poor SO seldom have-time to weep.
20, aunt" said Mrs. Merton, with tears
in her eyes, as, having seen the little coffin
cd babe borne to its last home, they returned
to heir own happy one, "if my heart blesses
you, how much more must poor Susan's.
Had it not been for you she would have
been too late-the baby would not have
known his mother. It has been sad yet
holy lesson. l shall always be kind to the
poor washerwoman. But aunt, was the
story you told me true one-all true /
mean?'
1.-THE reality of that story whitened my
head when it had seen but thirty summers,
and the memory of it has been one Of the
keenest sorrows 1t is not strange that I
should pity the poor washer-woman. Ada.
line and aunt Hannah are one and the
same"