Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1874-02-05

BY BEN. BROWN.

move on move on, woman
The speaker was blue coated
brass-buttoned, New York policeman
and the woman spoken to--a woman
seated upon the sidewalk, just under
the shade Of a narrow awning, she
and the infant child in her arms were
half protected from the blazing rays
Of 4 July sun. Just where? 'ris Of
no importance when l have told you
that the place was within a block OF
two of Broadway, and not more than
half Il dozen from Wall street, whose
habitueS, forsooth, forget that pretty
little golden rule, nor take stock in
"the world, the flesh, or the devil"
| had heard those words before,
though never except when they were
used as a command, and addressed to
some poor creature who had no hap
pier home than the highway. Many
time, while making my way over
the crowded sidewalk, have | heard
them, and, because of the oaths and
curses that they called forth, never
minded them particularly. Some
times | think | have forgotten to pity
the poor creatures to whom they are
addressed, or | too often reserve my
pity until coming Lords day, when,
from tinted papers and morocco covers
| pray the good father "to be with
all such as are in any way afflicted in
mind, body Or estate 1t is easy and
becoming to contemplate the great
world Of misery, but who, not driven
by the lash of duty, or coaxed along
by the leading string of affection, will
go down into its depths and secret
places Who loves to gather up it's
atoms
"Move on move on, woman !" -
repeated the officer, this time accom-
panying his words with an indefinite
motion of the hand, which seemed to
suggest only a few square feet of
earth, in Pottcrs field, for the habita-
ton of herself and child.
"What, sir ?"
1t was meek response, and one
that | was surprised to hear. Its
tones were plaintive, subdued and too
free from that coarseness which dis
tinguishes the utterances of the street
Arabs.
| came to dead halt and looked
into her face, which was upturned to
the officer, face which did not bear
the sensuous mark of the street wo-
man. Not a tear-not quiver of the
lip-there was only a saddened face
that the laugh had deserted, without
leaving it blank Or stony.
She was delicate, fragile creature
Just above the medium statue
Her fine, dark lustrous auburn hair,
loose and dishevelled, and here and
there interviewer with silver threads (;
her forehead neither high nor low /;
her mild eye her delicately sculptur-
ed features, and her alabaster- like COM
plexion told of a nature truly spirit
ual, which was no better armed for
struggle with the great, rough, bust.
ling world than is the pretty lily of
the valley to resist and conquer the
mountain storms. Her clothing was
Of the poorest quality. Upon her
head she wore a discolored straw bon
net Her dress was of calico, and
much soiled.
"Be off, you jade Clear out, you
and your young one, if you don't want
to go back to where you came from
That's what !" said the officer, his
tones indicating degree of anger.
Not one word in response. The
woman only rose, sighed, and then
walked off, in meaningless, purpose
less way, toward the North River
Actuated by no idle curiosity, 1 fol-
lowed her few steps, and l was by
her side.
'Pardon me, my good woman, but
are you in trouble ?"
"No-n-o, SIR she stammered in
response. 81 mean, sir, thank you,
that-that-no, sir it will be at an