St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1874-07-17
Little Ruth

or, rHE JOY THAT COMES oF ~oEEoW.
know ] WAS Il selfish old idiot. now
when look aloiyld me and sec the
mcrcicS gifcn me in my helpless old
age. feel the warm love around me on
all sides, and realize the dcSolatium my
own hand reached for to grasp: hut |
was blind to the future in those day :
when So nearly wrecked all its hap
pincsS.
This was how it happened. After
Martha died my wife. mean. with
whom forty years oi my life were spent
and all my children were dead or
married, excepting littl" Ruth. there
fell upon me the heavy misfortune that
has chained me to this chair. or bed. for
fifteen weary years.
had been hard-workimg man all
my lifc-a whcclwright 10y trade with
Il large family to rear. To clothc. to feed,
To educate. and. ah. me one 10y one to
bury in the old churchyard, till only
Mary, james, and Ruth, our baby. were
left to me. Mary married. aud went
with her husband to the far West.
James took his small fortune of fcM
hard-carncd dollars, and left us for the
golden land of promise. California. and
only little Ruth WAS left us. Then the
Angel of death came for Martha. and
six months later was stricken helpless
with paralysis.
am rCconcilcd now to my hard fate.
and can sit here happily. glad that my
cycSi%ht is still gGod, my right hand
free, and that | have learned in my old
age to love books. to enjoy reading,
and even writing. as never did i'll the
hard-working days of my youth. But
in those first months of hclpIrssncSS,
when even to toss and turn in my merry
orIS torture was denied me, my suffer
ingS were simply horrible. No agony
of pain, no torture of flesh or bone.
could equal the dreadful pressure upon
my strong limbs, that held them motion
less. dead, in spite of my clluItS to
move them one little inch. | have
tainted with the irigl!iul ciiort, have
made just To lift once the feet that had
carried me- miles in day with unwca-
ricd ease.
But even in that time of rchrllinus
murmurng, of hittcrcst rcpiming, there
was some consolation. First there was
the house and five acres of land, my
very own. free of debt or mortgage.
and II small sum in the bank. the inter
est of which lifted us above actual
want. Then | had Ruth.
She WAS just twenty when her mother
died. and others beside her father
thought her face the fairc-t one for
miles around. She had the blucst eyes,
like little patches of summer sky. and
hair that WAS the color of corn silk. and
nestled in little baby curlS all over her
head -rcbcltouS hair, that would never
lie straight under any coaNing. hut
kinked up in tangles that were full of
Her skin was as white as
milk, with cheeks like the heart of Il
blush rose. and her smile showed the
prctticSt rows of pcarIy teeth ever
saw.
She coaXcd me from my wicked re-
piningS by coming to me for directions.
making me feel that my head was still
needed to direct the work, though my
feet would never more carry me over
the door-sill. Then she fitted up for
me Il large back room that overlooked
most of the farm, and had Silas, our
head man. lift me up every morning.
and put me i'll dccp-cuShloncd char
10y the window. where ! could see the
barn, the poultry yard, the well. and
the fields of waving corn and wheat.
She made me feel my self of importance
10y giving me thus the maStcr-cyc over
my own little domain and she brought
up her own meals to eat with me III the
room where my iniirmity held me Il
prisoner.
Iou must understand what Ruth was
to me. or you will never understand the
simple story have set mysclfto telling
YOU She taught me to use my right
hand without my left; and, if you want
to appreciate the difficulty, tie your left
arm down for one single hour, and try
how often it will unconSciously strain
at the cords. She brought me books
from the village library, and opened
to my old eyes and brain field of