The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1869-09-02
Select Story.
A CROSS WORD.

"Lucy, if you mean to sew this but.
ton on, | wish you'd do i'll cant wait
all day"
Tom didn't spoak n bit cross, only
emphatic; but was out Of temper that
morning, and my head achcd badly from
sitting up too late the night before
Tom had gone to a superior the
second time since our marriage-giveu
by some of his bachelor friends, and
had come home the worst for it. 1t had
provoked me intensely, So | had fol-
lowed him to bed in sullen silence, aud
awoke, none the better pleased after my
sleep, on the morning alluded to. To
make the matter worse, just as he spoke
to me about this button, the knife slip.
ped, infiicting deep gash on my hand !;
aud the baby awoke, and sent up her
sharp little cry from the cradle, all in
one and the same mament.
"You can't wait Us well as ! did last
night, l reckon" l replied sharply,
really angry at last. "Don't hurry me
i do all eau, aud more than Im able
to do, with one pair of hands"
Tom dropped his button, and turned
toward me with startled
"Why, Lucyy"
"Don't Lucy me-" | retorted, throw
ing down the bread, and catching up
the baby, while the blood strcamed from
my hand over her white gown. you've
done euough-you've broke my bea:t.
| wish | had never seen you'll wish l
was back with my father and mother. Z"
l broke down with hysterical burst
of tears, and seeing the blood on my
hand, Tom came over aud knelt down
beside me.
"Why, Lucy" he said, his voice and
eyes full Of tenderness, you've cut
your hand. Why didn't you say so?-
Here, give me the child, while you
bind it up-see how it bleedsw
He held out his hands for the baby,
but snatched her away aud went on
sobbing.
"Don't cry, Lucy" he continued,
strokipg the hair back from my fore
head-''please don't. know I've done
wrong, dear-but didn't mean it.
fell in with some of my old companions,
and they persuaded me against my will.
But it's the last time, Lucy-the last
time"
Why didn't l turn to him then, and
help and encourage him? Because my
mean temper got the better Of my wo-
mans heart.
"Oh, yesl" l said, sneeringly, "it's
easy enough to make fine promises -
you told me the same thing before
How can you expect me to trust you
now after last night?"
Tom was spirited and quick tempered
great, loving hearted men always are.
He sprang to his feet like flash, and =,
before | had time to think or speak,
had left the room. | tossed the child
into the cradle, and rushed to the door
but it was too late--he was gone. l
just caught glimpse Of him as he was
turning the corner.
/ went back to the little break fast
room. How blank and drear it looked
aud what . sharp, singing thorn there
was ut the bottom Of my heartl Iloved
Tom and he loved me. We had been
married only eighteen months, and this
was our frst quarrel. l sat down with
the babe in my arms, needless Of my
morning work, and fell to thinking
All the old happy days came back; and
one in particular, when we sat in Dun
bury Wood II was in autumn, and all
the world seemed blaze Of gold, as the
sun shed down, and the squirrels chat.
tered over head, dropping . ripe nut
now and then into my lap as ! sat there,
with the last rose Of summer in my hair,
knitting purse for Tom.
"Lqcy," he said, as | woyo in the
last golden stitches, "you'yc knit my
love-my very life-pp in that purse.
Tell me now, before you finish il, how
is il 70 bc2 Am to leave you--aud
Oil | wont think of il eyen.-Lucy,
it would DO too drcadfulp
"No, Tom," l answered, ayop arc to
have The purse and the hand that knit
it, teq.D
Poor Tom, he cried then just Ike a
little child--hc, the brayest man in the
village.