Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1870-03-11

stammcred Mr. Rankin, looking greatly
confused.
He had no need to remind the pale,
overworked, heart burdencd woman be.
fore him, that the Sabbath was not in all
his thoughts. She knew him better than
he knew himself; knew him to be a grasp
ing, extortionate man in his dealing with
others. and she tremblod for the poor
man that had, a few hours before, left the
house. She had reasoned with her hus
band until reason seemed futile, and ev-
cry day was she conscious OF losing con
fidcnce in his integrity, Sad must be
the day to that wife, who has love and
reverence for truth and honesty, that
brings home to her soul the sckening
truth that her husband is unworthy Of the
sacred places of her heart No true wo'
man can reverence the man who is con
tinually suffering the weeds and bramblcs
of human nature to choke out the bios
SONS of immortal good in his soul.
As the days passed. the stroke Of the
axe in Joe Miller's woods could be dis
tinctly heard at the farmhouse of John
Rankin. To him it was simply the clink.
| inc of dollars in his already full Golfers
No thought of pity for the shivering.
half-fed man and boys, struggling TO meet
the hard conditions he had pressed upon
them, ever entered his mind, as he
seated himself at his well spread table.
He was growing rich very fast; rich in
houses and lands, but miserably poor in
all that makes lilo beautiful, laying up
treasures for moth and rust to corrupt.
One of Joe Mller's boys cut his foot.
long before one halt the wood was chop
ped. The family was suffering for sufii-
ciently nourishng food. The high pri-
ces OF food and clothing were bidding fair
to swallow up the greater part of his Ia
bor 1t was taking more days than he
had anticipated to work elsewhere. and
earn the food necessary to keep them from
starvation. The fierce, biting cold of mid
winter was purpling the lips and checks
of his little ones. and the racking coughs,
| from colds taken by their constant expos
ure 10 the weather, while gathering chips
from the woods TO keep them from freez-
ing, smote heavily upon the fathers heart.
Sometimes the temptation TO give up the
Job, or not try aud complete it in the
specified time, was strong upon him; but
to do so would be to give John Rankin
too much of his hard earnings. He had
! learned that Thomas Barnes was TO have
one dollar per cord, and that angered
him. and made him feel all the more de-
,ermined to finish the work in fifty days.
II must have COW in the Spring"
he would think, rs he redoubled his ex
ertions Il was too grasping myself;
had taken only one hundred cords |
could have done il with ease. and not dis
tress my family; but the temptation was
too alluring"- were thoughts ever pres
cnt Then would the conviction of the
real truth force itself upon him that John
Rankin urged the two hundred cords
! from no other motive than seiishness.
As the expiration of the fifty days drew
nigh, he became fearful that hc should
fail to fill his part of the contract. His
second boy caught severe cold, and was
confined 10 the house with pneumonia.
He had calculated on the full help of his
two oldest boys. lie felt weak himself; !;
his food was not sufficiently nourishing
for such excessive labor. The last two
Sundays found him in the woods, splitting
and piling wood, instead of in his accus-
toned seat at church.
ION John Rankin's soul rests the sin"
said the poor man, repeatedly, rs be wip-
ed the perspiration from his brow.
Early one cold, snowy m orning. Mrs.
Rankin was startled by = neighbor wo.
mans rushing in, and asking for some
remedy Tor the Group, saying one of Joe
Miller's children had = severe attack
Mrs. Rankin, very much against her hus-
bands expressed wish, he fearing she
might take cold in such storm, took
what remedies she thought proper, and
proceeded TO the house across the fields,
about half mile distant. As she enter.
ed the house, the scene was appalling
Seated in rickcty armchair was Mrs.
Miller. with boy about e years old up
on her lap, gasping in the last agonies Of
death, while a cry of wailing went up
from the agonized father bending over
him, and from the frightened children,
crouched in one corner of the room. Mrs.
Rankin advanced and laid one hand upon
the white brow Of the little sufferer, and
parted back the heavy locks Of shining
hair
The poor woman's face lighted up with
strange, ,unearthly glow, as she shrieked:
"Dont touch him! | would not have his
precious body contaminated by touch so
vile Do you think. by your hard bargains
to grow rich upon the bone and muscle of
a poor man and his family-to sap the
lie blood of his little one, that your own
may be clothed in purple and fine linenp
o my poor dead boy" moaned the
wretched mother, as she hugged the life
less form to her bosom.
Heaven knows, poor woman, am
not accountable for your misery" sobbed
Mrs. Rankin, sinking upon broken chair.