Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1872-04-26
#isfellanepMs.
At THE PRISON GATES.
BY nARlEr PRESCOTT srofroRD,

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT spoFFoRD.
Christmas eve. and cola wind blow
ing, snow on the ground and frozen, in the
sky a rising storm, lonely hearth, q
heart full OF sad memories and memories
embittered beyond sadness--what signifi-
canoe could the time have for woman
growing old with no one to love, nothing
to hope ?, She had no friend in the world.
she had allowed no one In these last past
years to come near enough for friendship.
She was alone, for miles of distance sep
arated her from the one thing that was
hers; more than distance--stone walls
and irresistible fate; the one thing that
anchored her here, as stone around her
neck might have done, that made her feel
civilization mockery, religion fairy
story. that made her defy and challenge
tate as mote might do turning against
the blast that bore It; nay, more and
worse than that. that made her question
the goodness Of God, and let life seem to
her as worthless as pinch Of ashes.
Merry Christmas! The boys were call
ing 1t in the streets, the bells were ringing
it. 1t was twenty years since she had
known such thing She sat there to-
night, as the room darkened, and recalled
the last she had ever known, until the tit-
ful burst Of the freight seemed to light
up the scene with vivid flashes, and she
was living all its horrors over again.
Twenty Christmasses since then had been
blanks in her calendar
Well, what life hers had been. An
orphan at fourteen, wife at fifteen, q
widow and mother at sixteen; yes. q
baby in her arms when she was little more
than a baby herself. She could see her.
self now, as she sat rocking the little
month old fellow thrty-seven years ago
yes, thirty-seyen years ago! She remem-
bered looking up at her picture in the
glass with her black gown on and her
brown curls clustering out of the edges Of
the little widows cap, with her brown
eyes as soft and bright, her velvet cheek
as rosy as If sorrow had never touched
her, only a tremulous lip made the smile
wave about the mouth as she tried to sing
her lullaby, and thought of the baby with
no protection but herself in all the world.
Not that she had been unhappy about Mr..
Hamilton's 8 death. She had feared him
more than she loved him; he had been
the guardian of her trifling property. and
when he had asked her to marry him she
obeyed him as she would have done if he
had asked her to 60 to school. He never
found his error though, in that single year
of happiness vouchsafed him. Grave and
stern and silent as he was, his heart was
blessing the little being who had made his
home SO bright the year long; and when
he died, after quiet illness, it was found
that he had given her all his own prop
erty-not much as fortunes go, but more
than enough.
He gave her another legacy, too--a step
daughter, the child of former and. most
unhappy marriage, three or four years her
junior in point of time, thousand years
her senior in point of assurance and the
knowledge of good and evil.
Mrs. Hamilton felt very grateful to her
dead husband for leaving her his money,
for giving her sou. For dying? No, in
deed; oh no, indeed But strange teel-
ing was upon her. all the same, as if she
had suddenly found wings. Perhaps the
step-daughter. Alice, knew this. She did
not spare hundred taunts that touched
upon it; and when the minister proposed
that Alice should be sent away to school,
the little step-mother, who had been mar
ried too young to have any education her.
self but that of events, gladly said that
Alice's father would certainly have wished
her to have the best the land could give !;
and Alice departed for her accomplish
mentS.
Four happy years then, without flaw
in them! 1t seemed to her now that she
could recall every day and hour in them !:
the first smile of the little dark-eyed baby.
the first tooth, the first uproarious laugh
the first real kiss, the first uttered word,
the tribulation of little illnesses, the joy
of swift recoveries, the walking when one
dear foot trembled after another, and all
the development of the little spirit, open
ing day after day the way rose puts back
its petals-the slow lifting Of a curtain for
the drama to begin. She was romping
one evening with the boy; they had been
dancing to their shadows on the wall, and
then he had pulled her hair all down and
had climbed into her lap, curtaining HIM
self with it, and lay with his face on her
neck while she sung him the old legends
she had hardly yet outgrown herself. And
then the flags clattered, and the door
banged and Alice came home from school.
Mrs. Hamilton sprang to meet her step
daughter, with her son in her arms, and
kissed her. and held her brother up for
her embrace but by one of the unaccount-
w
were shyness or fear or coquetry. the boy
refused the proilered salute. and hid his
curly head beneath his mothers chin.
You won't kiss me ?" said Alice. Then
YOU can leave it alone, you little monkey"
And she turned and introduced the gentle
man who followed her to Mrs. Hamilton
When by and by the boy, fascinated by
the music his sister was playing to her
admirer, crept up and offered his cheek,
which he had learned to consider an ines
timable favor, he was pushed aside with
out glance. partly because it was incon-
'venient to stoop, partly because she was
listening to the fiattering voice beside her,
partly to punish the child's reception ol
her. She had only intended 1t for rebuff
but the push became shove. and the boy
tripped and fell over on the carpet. Little
Philip had no power to discriminate be
tween her intention and her performance
He only felt it as declaration of war
He scrambled up, screaming with anger
his dry eyes blazing at her, and seized he
hand and slapped It, And then, of course
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