Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1874-07-08
The Chained Host;


Of the country where the following story is
told as a true tale:
In a small village in one Of the most bar
rem districts Of the west Of Ireland lived
very poor widow, whose sole inheritance /
from her husband were two healthy chill
drcn, girls, Of the respective ages Of three
and FIVE. Painfully, aud by the utmost
effort she had con,rived to pass two years
of her sorrowful widowhood Bad and |
scanty food, obtained ouly by labor too
great for her delicate frame, had at last |
thrown her upon her bed, and death, in
pity, removed her from her earthly troubles.
The poverty Of the whole parish was so
great that nothing could be done for the
poor orphans. All the neighbors, with the |
utmost desire to help, were too famine
stricken, and heard their own children too
often cry in vain for bread to assist others |
If the children could ouly be got to
Klburn," a village some miles distant said
one Of the neighbors, after the poor mother
had been buried, "a brother of their father
lives there, and he could not possibly re-
fuse to take care Of them"
but matters are as bad there as they
are here" replied another and fear they
will be no better of there"
at cannot be possibly worse than here,
for nothing but starvation stares them in
the face. If we send them to their rela-
ton, We have done our duty. We cannot
possibly keep them here
So carrier, who was going to kiiburn,
as au act Of charity, took the two girls
Lizzie was seven now, and Mary was five
in his cart with him The timid children
kept very quiet and close together aud the
carrier hardly looked at them. Towards
noon they reached the spot where the cart
would turn off. The man lifted them out,
showed them the road to the left, and babe
them 20 straight forward, and if they did
not turn from the high road, they would al
most, in two hours, come to the place He
then drove off The children sobbed out
good-by, aud looked after him as long as
they could see the least speck Of the cart,
and then they both began to cry.
Lizzie ceased her crying first. She took
hold Of her little sisters hand, who had
seated herself on the grass, and said
"Get up, Mary VIC must not stay here
if we wish to get to Kilburn. We cannot
stop here on the road.
81 am so hungry" sobbed Mary. ave
have had nothing to eat all day" And
again they both began to cry, for Lizzie
was equally hungry.
The children were very weak and could
only drag themselves slowly along. Hand
in hand they tottered along. At last Lizzie
III , and ta1 II
the spot But it took them more than a
quarter of an hour before they reached the
farmhouse, for such it proved to be. With
hesitating steps they entered the yard, for
they had never begged before. in spite Of
their former misery. But at this moment
they could think of nothing else but their
terrible hunger. When few steps from
the house, they heard the farmer violently
scolding one Of his men. Then he went
into the house, fercely closed the door after
him, so as to make the windows rattle, con.
tnuing his abuse all the time The chill
dren, terrified, stood still at the door unit
the voice had ceased Then Lizzie opened
the door, aud both children entered. Tn,
farmer sat in an armchair by the fire.
"Well, what do you waut2" he harshly
asked the children, who were too frightened
to utter word and to tell their story
Cant you speak ?" he asked NOR
roughly.
Lizzie at last took courage, aud sal
gently: "Oh, if you would be so good as t
give US the least little bit to eat--a sma
piece of bread or few potatoes"
81 thought so, shouted the farmer "
was sure you were nothing but beggars, a
though you do not seem to belong to tn
neghborhood. We have plenty Of thos
here, and do not want them to come froi
other parts. We have not bread for GU
selves in these hard times You will g
nothing here. BE off, this moment I"
The children, both terribly frightene
began to cry bitterly.
THAT will not do you any good col
tinued the man ; that kind of whining
nothing new to me, and won't move IN
Let your parents feed you but they, |
doubt, prefer idling rather than getting the
living by honest labor"
"Our parents are both dead" sa
Lizzie.
al thought So" replied the farme
Whenever children are sent out to be
their father and mother are always dea
OF at least their father. This is a mere e
cuse for begging. BE of, this minute"
ave have not eaten a morsel the who
day" pleaded Lizzie. ave are so tired til
we cannot move step. If you would b.
give us the least bit to eat, we are
hungry"
81 have told you would not BE
gars get nothing here"
The farmer got up with threatenii
look. Lizzie quickly opened the door al
drew her sister with her. The chidr,
again stood in the farmyard, but knew n
what to do. Suddenly little Mary Dire
her hand from her sisters clasp, and we
TO the other side Of the yard there was
fierce dog chained his dinner stood b
fore him in wooden basin. Mary put h
hand in the basin and began to eat with Il
dog. Lizzie went nearer and saw that
the basin there was some liquor in which
few pieces Of bread aud some boiled pot
toes were floating. She likewise, cou
not resist she had but one feeling, that
the most gnawing hunger she took sor
Of the bread and potatoes and ate the
grecdily.
The dog not accustomed to such CUES
looked at the children full of astonishmen
he drew back, then sat down and left the
his dinner, Of which he had eaten but We
little. At this moment the farmer stepp
into the yard; hewished to see whether t
children had really left, and then he ST
this singular scene, The dog was noted
his fereeness, aud feared alike by old a
young; he was obliged to be constant
chained. No one dared to come near h
except bis master. Even the servant ?
his foot before him in the most cautio
manner. Ia the FIRST moment the IN
thought Of nothing but the fearful dang
in which the children were, aud walk
quickly towards them, he exclaimed
Don't you see the dog? He will tie
you to pieces"
But suddenly he stopped, as If rooted
the ground the dog had got up again, a
gone near the children then be looked
his master and wagged his tail. II seem
as if he wanted to say;
Don't drive my guests way!"
AT that sight great change came ov
the man. the snectacle hefore him act