The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1872-02-23
aEElisrellalleons.
THE SWEEPER.

The ship Solent was on its way to
southern lands. 1t was night, and
the wind was Up, pushing the vessel
before it quickly, over the wide heav-
ing waters. The moon was full, and
carried her bright lamp over and
through dark clouds, now silvering
their edges, and now Trailing misty
light across their dark surfaces, some
times sending a broad moonbeam
across the billows like a luminous
railway for travellers between the
stars, sometimes turning upon the
ship her large policeman's lantern,
lighting up the deck and all about it
with wonderful clearness. All
around the lonely Solent was a great,
rolling liquid world, with unfathom-
ed deeps beneath-one wide, vast
grave that, to think upon, filed many
fearful heart with shuddering awe
but over which az led by invisible,
angelic guides, the ship made her
way in safety to the far off land
whittier she was bound. Most of the
passengers were asleep, but one or
two, tempted by the fine flesh air OF
the night, we're walking the deck or
standing by the vessels sides watch
ing the play OF light and shadow on
the somber mass of water beneath.
Two young men stood IN this way
conversing, glanclng occasionally,
in intervals OF talk, across the seeth
ing wsters, with thoughtful eyes. The
youngest, a dark-haired, wide-brow-
ed young man, about two-an twenty
years OF age, was the chief speaker.
lie seemed to be answering remark
of his companion as he said: "You
say true, Ben; very small things,
at times, turn the whole course of our
lives, or, at least, what seem to be
very small / should not have been
here if it hadn't been for the drop
ping of a little bracelet from lady's
arm.'. r
"How was that p asked Ben.
'.What could lady's bracelet have
to do with your going to Austria
liza ?' -'....
"I'il tell you. You know what a
drunkard my poor father was. How
he lest one place after another be-
csuse he wouldn't keep sober, and
how hedied at last in the hospital,
through being run over when he was
tipsy. Mother was left in great pow
erty and trouble, with me, poor,
untaught, little chap, on her hands.
/ could neither read nor write, for
father had never hslfpenuy to
spare out of his wages for schooling;
they all went to the public house for
ale and gin, except what she mansg-
ed to lay hold of hy stealth, as it
wers. He left her in debt besides, 81
she'd enough to do to keep body and
soul alive with the work of her poor
i'll used hands and fingers. But she
never gave up, and she never ceased
trying to do for me all she could.
But woman's work is badly paid for,
Ben, snd it was little she could earn
at the best of times.
"Then tried to work, and at last,
as | could do nothing else, I got
broom and took crossing, and there
i stayed long time, and moth
ing better seemed to offer fer me.
l was fast becoming big boy, and
was very anxious to learn 70 read,
but how could l spare time? And
on Sundays, when l might have gone
TO school, did not like to 60 out in
my shabby clothes amongst the bet
ter dressed folks. Then my mother
fell ill, and my clothes got in rags,
and my shoes and stockings were
clean Off my feet; and when / was
eleven Years old, instead of being
better Off, seem worse off than ever,
and mother could only lie in bed and
tell me to be good boy, and be in
dustrious, and honest, and patient,
and God would find way for me, il
l put my trust in him.
"One bright spring morning l
was standing at my crossing, with
my broom in hand, waiting for peo-
pie to pass over my clean pathway,
and give me few ha'pence if they
would, when young lady stepped
from the pavement and stood still
moment beside me before she went
forward. She didn't see me at all,s l
had time to look at her and to ad-
mire her beautiful face.
-''Well, az / said, she didn't see
me, and, good reason, for why--she
was looking at somebody else who'd
just left her, gentleman with black,
curly hair, who was walking up the
street and just going to turn round
the corner. There was such beau
iiful look of love in her eyes as she
watched bin, that l though. at once,
he's her sweetheart, and no mistake!
But there was mistake, for that, for
he was rather more than her sweet
heart-he was her husband, as l
found out after. Her husband, Ben,
and they'd only been married q few
weeks, and if she didn't love him
well. then I never saw anybody's
eyes that was in love, that's all!
Such beautiful dark eyes, with o
soft shining mist over them, and a
smile under them that came through
and through them, as they followed
that young, black-curle1 gentleman
all up the street, and never left him
till he'd gone clean round the corner
and was out of sight. Didn't l wish
1 was he? But what had poor rag
ged boy like me to do with such as
she? All l had to do with her was
10 sweep the mud out of the way
of her pretty. feet and then ask her for
ha'penny, looking up at her all the