The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1868-08-08
Selected story.
From the Springfield Republican,
HOW I SAW DICK EMS.
BY MARJORIE BANKS,


Do sweet waters, | argued, now from pltter
fountains? Yes Mr. Dickens had at least
one firm friend in Springfield, ane that was
/, Hepsybah Lee, who OWING 10 the gnawing
of poverty and utter failure to appear upon
the part of the young man 1oreordained and
predestinated to bear my burdens, according
to Dr. Holland, taught a, b, abs to the future
President of the United States; at least
tried to think so when the children were un-
usually stupid and dirty.
1t was charming thought, especially in
this connection. Were we not both working
for the benefit of posterity? Indirectly, per-
maps feebly, upon my part, but none the less
truly; and, thinking thus, my kindly regard
for him increased | read with all the inter
est OF personal friend OF his success before
the American public; even Dolby won share
in my good will. OF Dolby as genius, of
Dolby as human being even, L had no
thought, but the right hand, so to speak, o.
Mr.. Dickens could not be matter of indiffer-
ence to me, were he ever SO Indifferent a mat
ter, and therefore slight halo, or, at least, a
reflection of glory, encircled even Doiby's
head. =
When their coming to our city was not on
ly announced in the newspapers but actually
confirmed the next day, / began to look about
me for ways and means. There was no one
to ask me- no one ever did ask me to go any
where but once, and then could not go.
Della Spggins was going with her Joe, but
had no Joe. She kindly invited me to make
a third in the party, provided furnish my
own ticket, narrowing it down to question
OF dollars and cents.
1t was the beginning of a new term, the
first week, think; like most OF the teachers
had anticipated my salary, and after buying
few Indispensable and paying debts there
was but one ragged bill, two dollar bill, left
IN my purse, looked at it longingly. We
did not really need anything 1 thought
there was only mother, little Tim and 1 still
it was great deal to spend for self-eratfca-
tion was by no means sure that it would
be possible to enjoy any thing at such price
turned the ragged bill over and over in
my mind, without word to mother; and yet
she knew it all, think, and word from hel
decided me at last.
You had better go, dear; it is but once in
lifetime"
My feet were winged when l fastened ur
town on the way to school to buy the ticket.
but even then it was too late. There had
been watchers and walters since midnight
and carried into school only heavy heart
and ragged bill, while wandering thoughts
OF wise and foolish virgins and little Cratch.
Its, and thousand other things equally irrel.
evant, drove from my mind all thoughts of a.
b, abs. 1t was good as holiday to the
ounces Even Tom Trotter's daily whipping
was forgotten, until he fingered after the 9th,
srs, as though he missed something
1t was bitter disappointment which even
mothers prediction, that would yet hear OF
aIticket for sale, would not soften. And so /
did near OF more than one, but at prices rang
ing from i've to ten dollars; nothing less
And yet did not quite despair. 1t cannot
be, thought, that l, who have been his fond
est admirer, his truest friend, am never to see
his face, never to hear his yoicel | forgot
that virtue should be its own reward but we
are apt to forget proverbs in times of trouble.
Friday afternoon came at last, as all after
moons 90 come, neither earlier nor later for
bringing JOY or sorrow. l came home from
school tired and cross after the weeks work
MY future president seemed determined TO
make an A. j. OF himself notwitb
standing my efforts to the contrary. The
tea-table was unusually inviting, for mother
had brought out the old fashioned china and
made loaf of Gingerbread real luxury to
me, dear mother! 1t delighted Tim, but |
was only halt grateful, for the thought would
come that it would always be SO in life; Just
gingerbread, and nothing more.
You haven't any ticket?' / shook nv
head. She was kneeling by Tins chair, pull
ing off his shoes. They were patched fore
and aft. They had been soled and heeled
and toed until there was hardly bit of the
original shoes LETT but the copper toes.
He ought to have some new shoes, said l,
Ouy' ono siShcu, WORKING patiently at
tle broken string. lE
Il know, but L can't manage it, lust vet
pushed my chair back from the table, angry
with her tor signing, angry with Tim, and
even angry with myself; for my ewes would
wander to those ragged little shoes.
II believe III take that letter to the post
office. I'm tired to death of The sight of
children" and l gave little Tim push away
from my side.
Mother looked sorrowfully towards me. l
fancied she sighed again as she laid nv
piece of gingerbread back upon the plate.
wished had eater it. The angry feelings
died away from my heart. Poor mother
She had tried SO hard TO please me. l went
up stairs for my hat, hesitating between that
and my Sunday bonnet with pink flowers in
SIDE. 1t was hard to give up hope At last
chose the hat and came softly down stairs
and out OF the house. The fresh air brought
better thoughts, and before the corner was
turned 1 had made up my mind Up the
street little way was a shoe store, with the
sign OF gilt boot. AT the counter | asked
Tor ehildren's shoes, stout, pegged and copper
Going to Dickens? ?" asked the polite
young man.
was AFRAID was, in certain sense. but
said, mo, could not get ticket"
Ihey say there'H be a lot disposed of at
the box office, tonight; spectators couldn't
sell 'em, after ALL"
was measuring the shoes with my eve !:
no need TO do more for the little feet that
dressed and undressed so often. The mai r
dropped from my hand. What if said thew
would not suit, or I'D call again another day !?
1 put my hand in my pocket and felt the old
PortemOnnaie; the ragged bill was still in
sac. lhen l remembered mothers signs.
and said nothing. am so glad, now. though
l am AFRAID It was reluctant offering after
an. l chose the shoes and gave him the bill,
which he threw carelessly into the money
drawer All, well, he did not know.
linen walked slowly up the street past
tne opera house. The people were crowding
In, old and young; some l knew / caught
ghmpse OF our poet, his vile ard sweet
raced Slrl. 1t is something to know his face.
even., And there was Lille and Joe and
everybody else, it seemed to me- There were
silks ana veivets and soft white shawls |
flowers inside, and Rugged the shoes tight
while hurried home. III
,, as opened the sitting room door, little
inns cough struck my ear sharp and shrill
as II he were coughing into bell. The
worn out shoes were steaming under the
stove, and his little, wet, stained stockings
mug over chair to dry. l said nothing.
only united the parcel and set the COPPER
Toes where the first lays of the MORNING SIM
would strike them, close by the head of his
bed. Mother looked up into nv face as
came into the sitting room, with her ewes full
of tears. She knew it all. n : =, 80
Now" said /, with cheerfulness I was
only beginning to feel, for the glare of the
lights, the flash of silver and jewery, and the
sound OF happy voices were fresh in my mind,
we will have Dickens too" / took out card
photograph OF him, with his hand thrust into
the pocket of his embroidered coat, photo
graph which Joe had given billy, and stood it
upon the table before us. Then brought out
torn copy OF Pickwick from among fathers
ola books, and turned over the leaves until |
found the trial scene" 4
But you mustn't sew" said |, sand Won
must De dressed in your best. He has come
best" "i"i VIII o"r
Threw white knit shawl over her faded
Ilousseialne delaine DRESS and smootbing her
naI.sne mas soft, pretty hair-covered il
WIN ner last summers bonnet 1t was crumn-
iea ana yellow, but rather more dressy than
the OLD brown velvet. should have insisted
upon gloves, but her best were brown wooden.
ana as That would do, never! we overlooked
Inc uenclency, and she tried TO cover the
prlcked, toil-worn fingers with the ends of the
shawl. Then began. l think Tor time I
outDlckensed Dickens, until lookino unon
my audience for response, met mothers
plying eyes, and then
We'll, 1T was poor, little, dingy room at
best, which even our kerosene oil lamp and
frumplsh last summers bonnet could NOT
ennven. could not make it the opera house.
lald down my work and went out CRYING
ana we did not make believe any mora