The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1869-07-10

ooh. n is with q heavy heart, sir; and
| I shall always remember your kind
ness. But man knows when he Is
beat. And I'm beat now He hung
his head IN silence awhile. Then he
| aaid- in a faint voice, 'This is what has
done it, and handed him the letter:
Mr.. Cheetham examined 1t, and said;
IT am not surprised at yon being taken
abaok bv this. But It's nothing new
to us; we have all been threatened in
this form. Why, the very last time l
fought the trades, my wife was threat
shutter, with my intestines sweeping
the ground. That was the purport,
only 1t was put vernacular and strong
err. And they reminded me that the
old gals clothes (that Is Mrs. Cheetham;
she Is only twenty-six, and the pref
| worries that would do your heart good;
now these Hillsborough hays haven't
got a set OF front teeth among 'em,
Young or old). Well, they told me the
old gals clothes could easily be spoiled,
and her doll's face and all, with PEN
north of vitriol.'
The monHtersI'
are threatened fifty times for once they
are DONE
L shall not risk it. My own skin, If
YOU like, but not hers; never, Mr..
Cheetham-oh, never, neVeTl
well, but, said Mr.. Cheetham, she Is
in no danger 80 long aa you keep away
from her. They might fling one Of their
there; but otherwise, never, In this
world. No, no. Little, they are not so
bad as that. They have blown up a
whole household to get at the obnox-
ious party; but they always make sure
he Is there hrst.'
Bayne was appealed to, and con-
firmed this; and, with great difficulty,
thew prevailed on Little to remain
with Them until the unions should
decide; and to discontinue his visits to
the house on the hill In the meantime.
1 need hardly say they had no idea the
house on the hill was Woodbine Villa.
He left them; and. sick at heart,
turned away from Heath HUI, and
strolled out OF the lower part OF the
town, and wandered almost at random,
and sad as death.
He soon left the main road and CROSS
ed a stile; 1t took him by the side OF a
pabbllng brook, and at the edge OF a
picturesque wood. Ever and anon he
came to q water-wheel, and above the
water wheel dam made originally by
art, but now looking like a sweet little
lake. They were beautiful places; the
wheels and their attendant works were
old and rugged, but picturesque and
countrified; and the little lakes behind,
fringed by the master-grinder's garden,
were strangely peacet9l and pretty.
Here the vulgar labor OF the Rrlndstone
was made beautiful and incredibly
poetic.
'Ah l. thought poor Little, how happy
a workman must be that piles his trade
here in the fresh air. And how I'M
fortunate 1 am to be tied to a power
wheel in that filthy town, Instead of
hnFn NRtnFR
wheel, and the birds chirp at hand, and
the scene and the air arc all purity and
peace
One place of the kind was partIcu-
larly charming. The dam was larger
than most, and sloping grass on one
sheep; on the other, his strip OF gardeni
and bushes and flowers hung over the
edge and glassed themselves in the
clear water. Below the wheel, and at
one side was the master-grinder's cot
tage, covered with creepers.
But Henry's mind was in no state to
enjoy these beauties. He envied them;
and, at last, they oppressed him; and
he turned his back on them, and wan
dered, disconsolate, home.
He sat down on a stool by his moth
or, and laid his beating temples on her
knees.
'What is 1t, my darling2' said she
softly.
well, mother, for one thing, the
unions are against me, and see shall
have to leave HillsDorough, soon or
late.'
Never mind, dear. Happiness does
not depend upon the place we live in
and oh, Henry. whatever you do, new
or quarrel with those terrible grinders
and people. The world is wide. Let
us go back to London the sooner the
better. l have long seen there WAS
something worrying you. But Satur-
day and Monday-they used to be your
bright days.
Henry, evading her last observation.
'Yes,' said he, YEARLY, st will come to
that And he signed so piteously that
she forbore TO press him. She had not
the heart to cross-examine her suffer
ing child.
That evening, mother and son sat 81
lent by the fire. Henry had his own
sad and bitter thoughts, and Mrs. Little
was now brooding over the words Hen
ry had spoken In the afternoon; and
presently her material anXieties found
q cOpiOus vent. She related to him, one
after another, all the outraEes that had
been perpetrated In Hillsborough, while
he was a child, and had been, each in
Its turn, the town talk.
1t was a subject on which, II her son
bad been older and more experienced
in her sex, he would have closed her
mouth promptly, she being a woman
whose own nerves had received SO
friHhtful a shock by the manner of her
husbands death. But, inadvertently,
he let her run on, till she told him how
poor grinder had been carried home
to his wife blinded and scorched with
gunpowder, and another had been
taken home all bleeding to his mother,
so beaten and bruised with 1ife.pre-
servers that he had lain between life
and death for nine days, and never ut
tered one word all that time In reply to
all her prayers and tears.
Now Mrs. Little began these horrible
narratives with forced and unnatural
calmnesS: but, by the time she got to
the last, she had worked herself up to a
paroxysm of sympathy with other
Wretched women in Marlborough, and
trembled all over, like one in an ague,
for herself; and at last stretched out her
shaking hands, and screamed to him,
'Oh, Harry, Harry, have pity on your
miserable mOtherl Think what these
eyes Of mine have seen-bleedlng at my
eet-there-there-I see 1t noW-(her
eyes dilated terribly at the word)-oh,
promise me, for pity's sake, that these
Same eyes - shall never see you
brought and laid down bleeding like
him.! With this she went into violent
Mysteries, and frightened her son more
than all the ruffians in the town had
ever frightened him.
She was long time In this pitiable
condition, and he nurGed her; but at
last her convulsion ceased, and her
head rested on her sons shoulder In a
pitiable langour.
Henry was always good son; but he
never loved his mother 80 tenderly as