The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1873-12-26

1face close to mine-sueh a wicked
leering face!
'Take off that veil miss; I'm sure
a Whit of fresh air will do you good.
This carriage is awful muggyn-that
was the creatures very expression
-"muggyr Besides, it's desper-
ate bad for your eyes to read through
that speckled stuff"
Without replying 1 bent my head
lower over my book, but the letters
we're getting confused, and my heart
was beating with fright.
Poor little thing! Deaf, is she?"
and he took the seat opposite and
leaned across, so that / had to shrink
into my corner to avoid his touch.
Poor little Una needed her lion now.
"Bad for the eyes, miss, and such
sinners as yours are too good to be
wasted on that stupid book. Give
a fellow peep at them"
And q great red hand advanced
towards my vail.
1 could only cover into my cor
ner with a great cry Of teTor-one
helpless call on "Uncle," knowing
the while how far away he was, and
how unconscious of his poor little
Polly's trouble.
In putting up his hand to my vail,
the man touched me, and the touch,
slight as it was, reused a fury Of an
ger such as I had never felt before,
and I hope never to feel again; it
gave me back my voice.
"You shall notl How dare you!
You must not touch me-uncle viii
kill youw
The man laughed at my puny
rage.
"Kfn me for taking care of you! If
he does not wish others to fill his
place, he should look after you bet
ter, and not let you out alone. You
had better be civil, Or y
He drew out g large clasp knife as
he spoke and began deliberately to
open it, lookin at me all the while.
It was come at last; should never,
never see home again One fash Of
thought, which seemed in a second
to take in all my past, with its little
discontents, naughtiness, and great
hsppiness-my aunts anguish when
she found me lying dead; uncle's
opening ofthe telegram which would
bring the neWs-the darkened heme,
the broken hearts which would sure
ly carry till they died the remember
ance of the dreadful fate of their viii
full, but oh! their loving darling
all this occurred so vividly to me that
with a great cry for help to Heaven,
/ fell at the mans feet, and entreat-
ed him not to kill me.
"Kill you! I thought it was your
uncle that was to kill me! Bless your
little heart, 1 am going to take care
of you. You look pale. Now don't
you como off in too great q hurry to
have time for breakfast. Have bit
Of luncheon" STOPPING to take 8
black bag from under the seat. 81
always 60 provided with something
good. Pm soft hearted boy, l am,
and I never see a fine young woman
suffer if I can help it. Peck a bit
now-do; you have hungry look
What should I-must LIDO? l
sat up, and said as steadily as cod,
choking back the tears-forI 1 would
not cry before him:
Il am not hungry; I win not eat
Do not speak to me any more. You
must not-I am a lady"
"a lady! 1 know that. Do you
think I'd be SO good to you if you
we're not? know a lady when I see
her-and a hungry lady,too-I knew
you was. Come, peck a bit. Don't
be bashful."
By this time he had unlocked the
bag, and taken from it-yes, it may
appear improbable, but, OIL 1t is
dreadfully true-a turnip-a great
unboiled turnip-a turnip still COW
cred with the soil of the field from
which the wretch had taken it! he
began to scrape and pare it while !
Hooked on.
Was he mad? I would try to please
him, and do as he wished, and then
perhaps he would not hurt me.
should soon be with my aunt now
and at that thought 1 felt the tear;
looming again, but opened my eyes
widely, and bit my lips hard-the
tears must not fall. I crushed then
Iback, and sat watching my compan
lion till, having peeled the turnip t.
his satisfaction, he cut off thicl
slice and handed it to me. Raw
turnip! And touched by thos'
Ifngersl
"Come, take it, my beauty-a peacl
lripe and dow1y as your own check
Peaches is dear, too, this season
but I give no heed to that. If so b
as I find a pretty girl to eat 'em,
don't grudge the money. Come,peel
laway; or do you want ne to feeC
you? No, you sha'n't have it with
out Thank you After all my trou
: bic. that amt manners" with q sig
nifcant look at the knife.
"Come, finish it. Good, isn't it
The ladies are always fond Of a bi
Iof fruit. Don't be bashful-Fv
something here to wash it dowI
Nothing like a drop Of brandy t
make it agree with you," and b
Z touched the neck of black bottl
which stuck out Of his pocket.
/ What would become of me? l ha
> once seen a dreadful woman for
, few moments at home-a new coo
4 she was-who was, oh! so frightfu
! Nurse told me she had taken brand
/ and was drunk. I had thought he
4 mad. If he had made me drink
: and If, when aunt Margery foun
I me, ILbut no, this l would not dc
I he might kill me first. / went o
: eating the turnip, and all the while
I prayed earnestly for rescue. Ws
my prayer answered? The train b
# Gan to slacken its speed-it stopped
q but there was no station in sight.
:, think it was a siding or something
Y that kind.
At the side of the carriage whe-
e | l was sitting there was q steep bar
> which shut out all hope; at the OF
a er side were several lines Of rail; b
s. yond was the open country. In {
n instant my tOrturer was at my wi
L IL l. |.