The Republican journal., 1874-03-19
The Lengthened Shadow.

Nothing but ragged girl, in the ont
| skirts Of the city on a cold night
| But there was a tragedy in her young
heart as She turned away from her iather',
door, his curses ringing in her ears 1t
ten years of lite 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 tear nevrl
left their roof for 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-t:ieed mother,
grew into her very soul and ~hadoWed
every instant of her life
The tragedy Went on and deepcned,
Wien a year ago her mother died; died
weeping bitterly that She must leave her
Young daughter to suffer alone. And
troubles had seemed worse and blows
harder. and cold severer. and the world
darker to the poor child Many a time
had the brute kicked her ont of the wretch
ed shantv-all the home she knew-and
many Il time She had hung around the
door until he had fallen into Il 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
of late. and on this night his words and
blows had been worse than ever and he
had sworn dreadful oath TO Kill her ii
She ever came back.
She believed him. She knew he would
do ii, and as she turned away from the
door She felt as if she faced the wide, wide
world
She walked slowly away, Il slight, t'rall
figure, with large, black eyes and tangled
hair. a very ragged dress-all she had
baretooted and bareheaded. Thus Nora
November 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, hut 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 n
hole.
Nora stopped here Here wa place
to hide. Here no one could find her. Here
she could lie in peace She crept in. away
in. far out Of sight, and huddled up in u
corner, She lay down to die.
Oh, it was pititul, Only ten years old ,
What could have been her thoughts As
She lay there motionless, all the long, cold
night all the next long, dreary day, all
the next night, in utter hopeless despair
Death was slow in coming TO her, hun
ger had long ago left her, cold was nearly
gone something of the numbncSS OF death
was stealing over her, when she was
aroused by the shout of 4 boy
She could not move, but a dull wish to
be left alone dawned in her mind, She
did not speak He Went away, but soon
returned with other boys. They called
her, they threw sticks to see if she was
alive, they tried al ways and AT last they
went away But in an hour they came
back and men with them. Nora-through
her halt shut eVeS-could see them She
knew, by their blue coats and bright stars,
they were policemen TO her. policemen
did not mean protector. aS il does to YOU,
but enemy.
They called, they coaNed, they com
manded but she did not move They
found boy small enough to crawl under
meath the barn, and he went in. He found
that she was alive, but all he could say was
As though spoken in the ear of the dead.
Never Il wish or a hope crossed the child'>
mind, except wish to be left alone.
At last the boy, by the directions Of the
policemen. pulled her towards the open
ing She did not resist, she did not know
how to resist, her whole life had been a
submission to everything horrible.
Finally the men could reach her. and
the poor, little, halt-dead figure was
broug ght to the light.
Poor soul - said one of the men almost
tenderlv ''She's nearly dead with cold
and hunger
She could not walk. Kind though rough
hands carried her to the station-house
where a warm fire and 4 few Spoontuls o
broth-hastily procured from restaurant
brought her wholly back to life, and She
sat up in her chair and faced the row o
pitying faces with all her Young misery.
Little by little her story was drawn
| from her, and eyes unused to tears were
| wet with the horror OF it.
| But what to do with her-that wa, the
| question She was not an offender Of the
law. and this institution was not tor thu
protection of misfortune. but for the pun
|
could. They fed her, made comfortable
bed on a bench in the station-house, ant
the next morning the whole story went in
to the papers
You've had enough of this black pic
ture: perhaps too much. Well look ol
| another
Isabella Buckingham, spinster, age
thirtv-tiye, lived alone at the other end O
the social ladder She had culture, sh
had wealth, she had luxury. She had
charming home on fashionable avenue
large enough, but not too large, with sci
wants enough, vet not too many ; books
flowers, friends. everything. one woul
think
She had too much, in fact. for she had
heart also a conscience, and just the
they were both troublesome. The hear
because she had no one especially her ow
to love, and the conscience because it col
stantly reminded her that the world hel
plenty she could make her own.
'Some beggar's bratn' she said to he
self Il could love some child of goo
parents, but a dirty, low wretch out {
the streets. Bah! | couldn't endure it
But her conscience was VIDE aWak
Unfortunately she had been reading
vivid account of the wretched poor, an
she could get no rest from its suggestion
,, "You can't endure a crumpled rosele
to vex your luxurious life, !" it said. Thin
Of what young girls have to endure in tn
other life ~
She didn't want to think She hasti
rang for the morning paper and her &C
1 fee. The dainty old china cups, and tt
5 silver urn with its fragrant contents sto(