Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1873-11-03

memory of the past days when his love
and protection had been hers. In vain;
wild fancies filed his BRAIN demons,
born Of the fumes of rum, held possess
ion of his senses Sometimes he thrust
her from him, sometimes he gave her
a maudlin embrace and babe her bring
him more liquor. but go home he would
not. The distant hum of the city died
out at last; all was still with the strange
stiffness of a city night. The frosty
stars twinkled over head. Now and then
a night boat passed up the river, with
measured beat and throb. Once a rufian
ly looking fellow sauntered past them on
the pier; but though he flung her an
insolent word and yet more insolent
laugh, and went away singing yet more
insolently, he did not approach them.
So benumbed had Ruth grown, so cold
to the very heart was she. that the pow
er of motion had almost deserted her,
when at last, as the church clock not
far away tolled the hour of four, the de.
graded man started to his feet and reel
ed homeward. She followed feebly;
only by clinging to the balustrade could
she mount the wretched stairs. 1t was
bitter cold within as without, but she
was glad to find herself at last under
shelter. Her babe still slumbered and
she did not waken it. Her frozen bosom
could only have chilled the little crea-
ture. There were few bits of broken
wood in corner, and with these she
made a fire in the old stove, and crouch
ed over it, striving to gain some little
warmth, while her husband slumbered
heavily upon the bed in the corner, to
which he had staggered on his entrance.
Thus an honr passed by. and Ruth
also fell asleep. The silence. the pleas
ant warmth. al her feet, the fancy that
all her trouble was over for the night,
lulled her to pleasant dreams. From
them she was awakened by the loud
ringing of the factory. bell and by the
sound of cries and shouts in the street
below. She cast her eyes toward the
bed-her husband was not there toward
the ciadle-it was empty. She few to
the window-the street below was full
of factory boys. with their tin kettles.
Some great jest amused them nightly.
They roared, they danced, they tossed
their ragged caps on high, they shrieked
IN unmusical laughter and the object
of all this mad mirth was only too evil
dent.
On the steps of the liquor store oppo-
site stood Edward Holly, holding his
child in his arms. and exhibiting for the
benefit of the delighted crowd all those
antics of which an intoxicated man alone
is capable! He called on the grinning
master of the gin-cellar to .'give this
child some brandy :" and turned the
screaming infant about in manner that
left no doubt that he would end by drop.
ping it upon the broken pavement.
Wild with terror, Ruth rushed out
into the street, and made her way
through the crowd to the spot where hel
husband stood; but, before she reached
him, the scene had changed.
Scme boy, more brutal than the rest
had thrown handful of mud into Ed
ward Holly's face: and he, reeling ane
blaspheming, had dashed forward to re
venge the act.
The child had been flung away at tn,
first step, but, fortunately, had beer
caught by an old negress who, though |
degraded creature herself, had enough
of the woman remaining to save an in
fant from injury.
And now the whole horde of boys be
set the drunken man, pelting him will
sticks and stones and decayed vegetable
from the kennel, and revelling in th'
brutal delight with which such a seem
always seems to inspire boys of the low
er classes.
Ruth saw that her babe was safe an,
that her husband was in danger. and
forgetful of all else, few toward him
She cared nothing for the jeers of tn
mob; before them ALL she flung he
arms about him. and interposed he
beautiful person between him and hi
assailants. The head that had carrie,
itself little proudly in the presence 0
the highest of the land-that had seem
ed more queen-like than that of the EN-
press herself, at the Court of France
that had awakened the envy OF titles
English women when the young Ameri
can woman dwelt among them-droppe'
itself low upon the bosom of the drunke1
wretch who was the jeer and scorn of
low mob; and only in love and pity no
in anger did she speak to him:
Come home, Edward they'll hur
you, my poor love come home with me
Mad as he was-flled with the de
mons of drink, to the exclusion of th
soul God had given him-the soft, swee
voice, the fond touch of the white finger
awakened some memory of the past i
the mans breast
Go you home, girl he whispered
.I'll kill them Don't fret. TIL kill 'em