Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1874-03-18
The Lengthened Shadow
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0hHAo VI AhN Nihe VII q WIN hifhN'
But there was a tragedy in her young
heart as she turned away from her fathers
door, his curses ringing in her ears. 1t began
a long way back-indeed, all her ten years
Of life had been tragedy.
She had never known childhood, she was
a suffering little waif in her cradle. She
was always hungry and cold, and afraid,
The dark shadow of fear never left their
roof-ior the father was a brute.
The fear of him, the dread Of his words
and blows, both for herself and, as she grew
older, for her white.faced mother, grew into
her very soul, and shadowed every instant
of her life.
The tragedy went on and deepened when
year ago her mother died died weeping
bitterly that she must leave her young
daughter to suffer alone. And troubles
bad seemed worse and blows harder, and
cold severer, and the world darker to the
poor child. Many time had the brute
kicked her out Of the wretched shanty-alI
the home she knew-and many time she
had hung around the door until he had fallen
into drunken sleep, and then stolen in and
crept to the pile Of rags she called her bed
But the end of all had come now, she
thought, for he had been growing worse oi
late, and on this night his words and blows
had been worse than ever, and be had
sworn a dreadful oath to kill her if she ever
came back.
She believed him. She knew he would
DO it, and as she turned away from The
door she felt as if she faced the wide, wide
world.
She walked slowly away, slight, irai
figure, with large, black eyes and tangled
hair, very ragged dress-all she had
barefooted and bare headed. Thus Nora
Dennis left her fathers house that cold No
vember evening.
The long tragedy was very near its end
now, she thought, and she looked around
for place to hide. To hide was the one
instinct of her life, poor child! Some time
she wandered vaguely about, but at last
not many rods from the shanty, she came
to a barn. 1t stood up about a foot from the
ground, and under one corner was hole
Nora stopped here. Here was place
to hide. Hereno one could see her. Here
she could lie in peace. She crept in, away
in, far out of sight, and huddled up in /:
corner, she lay down to die.
Oh, it was pitiful Only ten years old
What could have been her thought Al
she lay there motionless all the long, colo
night, all the next long, dreary day, all the
next night, in utter hopeless despair?
Death was slow in coming to her, hunger
had long ago left her, cold was nearly gone
something Of the numbness Of death was steal
ing over her, when she was aroused by tn,
shout of boy,
She could not move, but dull wish t,
be left alone dawned in her mind. She die
not try to speak. lie went away, but soor
returned with other boys. They called her
they threw sticks to her to see if she wa
alive, they tried all ways, aud at last the.
went away. But in an hour they cam
back, and men with them. Nora througl
her half.shut eyes-eould see them. Sh
knew by their blue coats and bright star
they were policemen. To her, policeme
did not mean protector, as it does to you
but enemy.
They called, they coaxed, they com
manded, but she did not move. They foun'
boy small enough to crawl underneath tn
barn, and he went in. He found that sh
was alive, but all he could say was as thoug
spoken in the ear of the dead. Never
wish or a hope crossed the child's mind, ex
cept wish to be left alone.
At last the boy, by the directions of tn
policemen, pulled her towards the opening
She did not resist-she did not know hoI
to resist, her whole life had been a submis
sion to everything horrible.
Finally the men could reach her. aud tn
poor, little half-dead figure was brought t
light.
=" Poor soul !" said one of the men almos
tenderly. She's nearly dead with col
and hunger"
She could not walk. Kind though roug
hands carried her to the station house wher
warm fire and few spooniuls Of broth
hastily procured from restaurant-brough
her wholly back to life, and she sat up i
her chair aud faced the row of pityu
faces with all her young misery.
Little by little her story was drawn fror
her, aud eyes unused to tears were wet wit
the horror of it.
But what to do with her-that was th
question. She was not an offender of tn
law, and this institution was not for tn
protection of misfortune, but for the pun
ishment of crime. They did the best the
could They fed her, made her a comfort
able bed on bench in the station houst
and the next morning the whole story wer
into the papers.
You've had enough Of this black pie
ture perhaps too much. Well look o
another.
Isabella Buckingham, spinster, age
! thirty-6ve, lived alone at the other end {
the social ladder. She had culture, she ha
J wealth, she had luxury. She bad charm
ing home on a fashionable avenue, larg
enough, yet not too large, with servan
enough, yet not too many books, flower
J friends, everything, one would think.
She had too much, in fact, for she had
} heart, also conscience, and Just then the
: were both troublesome. The heart, becaui
she had no one especially her own to low
aud the conscience because it constantly r,
minded her that the world held plenty 81
! could make her own.
Some beggar'S brat she said to he
self. 81 could love some child of GOO
parents, but dirty, low wretch out of II
! streets Bah couldn't endure it %
But her conscience was wide awake
: Unfortunately she had been reading yivl
, account Of the wretched poor, and she coul
J get no rest from its suggestions.
! "You cant endure a crumpled rose.le.