The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1874-09-24

thin fingers lay quiet, her eyes opened,
and looked clear and CALM mat the Doc
tor. He tried to rouse. her with an
interest deeper to most women than
their own agony or laaguor.
"You've got 9ice little girl,
Mary" said he, cheerfdlly.
The ghost of a smile lit her face.
"I'm content" said she, in a low
whisper.
Aunt Rhody brought the baby and
laid it on it's mothers arm. The child
stirred and cried, but Mary took no
notice; her eyes were fixed and glaz-
ing. Suddenly she smiled a brilliant
smile, stretched both arms upward,
dropping her baby from its place.
Only for one moment that recognizing
look defed death and welcomed life;
her arms dropped, her jaw fell;-it
WAS over.
II guess you'd better take the baby
into the kitchen, Miss Loviny," said
Aunt Rhody; "'tisn't considered
lucky to keep 'em round where folks
has died."
"Luck ant anything" grimly re-
turned Lovina, who had squeezed her
tears back, lest the two or three that
inclined to fall should spot the baby's
blanket; "but I'm goin' to take her
out into the kitchen, because I calcu-
late to open the winder in here"
So the baby and Aunt Why went
out.
1t was q new thing and hard
thing for Lovina Perkins to have .
baby on her hands; she would rather
have charged herself with the care of
a farm, or the building of q house;
she could work, she could order, plan,
regulate, and execute; but what to
do with baby? There it lay, help
less, soft, incapable not to be scolded,
or worked, or made responsible in
any way, the most impracticable crea-
ture possible: a kitten she could
have put into a basket at night, and
set in the shed a puppy she could
and would have drowned; but baby,
an unlucky, red, screeching creature,
with a soul, was worse than all other
evils. However, she couldn't let it
die; so she went after some milk, and,
with Aunt Rhody's help, after much
patient disgust, taught the child how
to live, and it lived.
Mary Scranton was buried next to
Tom, and the June grass grew over
both their graves, and people thought
no more about it; only every now
and then Doctor Parker came to Miss
Perkins's house to ask after "baby,"
who grew datty -fat.and fair and smil-
ing: and on one of these oucasions he
met the minister, Parson Goodyear,
who had come, as Miss why ex-
pressed it, 90 purpose to take me to
do, because ha;nt presented the child
for baptism"
'Fact is," continued she, II ha'n't
an idea what to call her. I don't fa-
vor callin' of her Mary, because that
was her mothers name, and 1 could
Mt think of two on 'em at once; and
Scripter names are generally rather
hash. Miss Parker. Doctor, kind of
favored her bein' called Aribelly, be-
cause there was one of that name rath-
er come over in the Mayfower; but
think it's too mighty for child
that's got to work what do you
say?"
II think you're right, Miss 'Viny," -"
said the Doctor, as gravely rs he
could. II don't believe in fine names
myself: I should think you might do
worse than to call the baby Content
that was your own mothers name
| wasn't it? and it was the last word
Mary spoke"
"Well, now, that's quite an idea
Doctor! I guess I will"
'And you will present her on the
first Sabbath in May?" said Parsor
Goodyear.
"Well, yes, if I'm spGred," sale
Aunt Why; and, being spared. a
that sweet May-Sunday she carried
the smiling little child UP the aisle O.
the Westinghouse, and had it baptiz
ed Content.
Strange to say,-yet not all strange
before it was a year old, the baby
had found its way quite down intt
the middle Of Aunt Why's heart. II
be sure, it was deal of trouble; i
would ache and cry in q reasonles
way, when nobody could tell wha
allied it; it would take great amour
of caring-for with ungrateful silenc'
aud utter want of demonstration for .
long time;-but then it was SO help
less Irresistible plea to a woman
and under all Miss why's rougl
exterior, her heart was as sweet as tn
kernel of a butternut, though abou
as hard to discover. True, she wa
hard of feature, and speech, as hun
dreds Of New-England women are
Their lives are hard, their husband
are harder and stonier than the field.
| they half.reclaim to raise their dali,
bread from, their existence is labo
and endurance; no grace, no beauty
no soft leisure or tender caress miti
tG@tes the Life that vears itself ava,
on wash-tube, cheese-presses, churns
cooking-stoves, and poultry; but trut]
and strenoth and nuritv lie c1ear !,