New-York tribune., 1872-02-01

year out she worked at machine, sewing
dresses for servants and shOp-girlS who bullled
her. not unreasonably, for she was but poor
sempstress. if the truth must be told. Her
husband, coarse grained, gosSiping fellow'
tried this trade and that, became ward poll
ticaD, did what he could for Ills iaihlly' out
felt that his wife must do her share. lie had
been used to raw-boned, stout Connecuc"'
farm women, beside whom she doubtless 'p-
pcarcd inefficient enough
If others remembered how tenderly nurtured
she had been as girl, and that the iortune
she brought him he had flung away. he never
did Nor did she. They were wretchedly poo',
and il was but Just and proper she shouin
work. So she worked, stopping now ana tllen
to Give birth to another child, to be nurSed al
the tired breast, and watched and prayed over
with the blind. idolatrOus devotion she gave 10
the others. Certain logical morallsts lay
down IA axioms that there can De
no tragedy without crime, ana 'n',
no woman, with love, husband anu
children, ought to ask for more. Ihls "oi'i"n
never did ask for more. The lOud OraSsins
politician remained her hero TO the last IL
her life slowly dried and withered away aS
a tree might, tapped of all its Juices at the
root, she thought it was herself that was ~
blame. This poor lady was cursed WIN aS
finely wrought an organization as any Ia'o'i'e
of fortune; both body and mind required COM
panions of her own caste, and that MUIR
mept which Nature and Art give out
TO few, but which that few must nave
or die. Besides not even the strongest
woman can furnish bread and butter for a
bousefuIl of children, make their clothes, keep
their souls pure and their manners refined,
and add to the number every year. She was
not strong in any sense; so She stlCchcu' an"
pursed and trained them, with the dirty walls
about her and the torn mating under loot,
and the crowd of children grew shaDDer ana
coarser and more vulgar day by day. One
day an old accomplishment OF her SlrihoOd
recnrrcd to her: flOwer-paintiEg, m0ldIng Ill
clay designing-it does not matter What;
work. however, in which her real nature
would have found food and expression,
and the pay for which would have been
comparative aflluence. She sent specimen OF
her work for trial, which was approved; but
men were employed who had been trained to
business Only the machine was left, ana the
work for her chldren's bodies and souls that
she could not do. 1t grew and grew before
her sight until the day came when she
dropDed "a under an intOlerable burden. AS
she lay on the bed day after day slowly dying,
husband and children were loud III sorrow
and astopisbment. Glow had she come by such
manifold diseases7 Machine work and want OF
" air9 1t was incredible" She struggled Win
her work yet, sewed as she lay on her Dack'
drew her children close to her with hungry,
unsatisfed love in her eyes that they couid
not understand. But as the hour came lor
her TO quit the world that had been so mig
cardy of its comfort or bounty to her, she
was beset with restless fancies, which TO hcr
husband seemed scarcely sane. "She thlnkS
" if she could see and smell thOrny rose that
used to grow wild about the farms down there
| Gin MARYLAND where she was born, she would be
| " well again. Now what good could there De
| " i'm q rose 2" He could not see why she would
make them put the children out of the room,
and turn out the gas that she could not see
the machine, and so lie looking up at the
patch of sky above the brick walls. When
she was dead, he cried Il did what could
! "am not to blame" And it was true: no man
can go beyond his nature.
What was to blameP Not poverty; not the
working for bread and butter; not the un-
equal marriage. Since the world began, King
Cophetuas have married beggar girls untitled,
and clothed them royalty in their own flames;
and Tianias have rejoiced to worship an ass
But if she had been taught practically the
one occupation for which her taste and ability
fitted herq If all women were so thoroughly
taught such occupations that employment would
be open to them as men' The answer matters
nothing to her now. A day or two ago the worn
out body was laid back in the earth to which
it had been drawn by such strong and subtle
kinship. To what rest or rec0mpense the
soul of the gentle lady passed, only He knows
who took it hence. Her work remains I'M
finished. But it is because there are so many
thousands of over-w0rked women around us
on every side, staring blankly at their uncon-
querable work, and lives wasted at MONDAY,
that we have told her story, and reverently
held back her memory, for this brief moment,
out of the eternal silence.