The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1877-02-24
SEEING BETTER DAYS.

iiF StHihS g''sSiI'o VI VIC SGT Sitio 'iiHSt,
who went about with their skirts tucked up
and their bare brown arms ready and able
for any work, looked askance at the widow
Mntor, with her pitiful meagreness of as
pect, her Pickering black eye, and her trail
ing old gown. They nudged each other,
and said, . Better days-Lord save u.s.
But the widow did not trouble the neigh
bors much, nor they her. \ body who
couldn't do heartsOme hands stirring was
best left alone to her brooding, and the
widows smoky little cabin, solidarity apart
on The sea-shore, was left pretty much to
herself and her boy Tom.
Tom WAS sturdy, bIown-faced lad, who
picked up a living by doing odd jobs for
the boatmen, and now and then taking a
day for fishing. Tom had probably never
seen better days. The widow shook her
head over him-so stupidity content, poor
Tom, so beaming and good natured over
beggalliness and hopelessness. \ tail, well.
grown fellow, with bare feet, torn straw
hat, and red shirt, Tom took the world
easily, looking with reverent eyes on his
mothers by-gone gentility, but by no means
seeming to covet it for himself.
The widow deemed it due to her past re-
spectabiity to be seen at church of Sun
day evening, and you could see the two
walking at twilight along the sands to-
gether, she with her clean cket haudker-
chief folded over her old hymn book and
certain doubtful heSitancy of gait, as if
heaven itself might be looking down criUi,
cally on her shabby black gown and rusty
bonnet. As for Tom. patient Tom, he went
ploGding slowly after her, with his smiling
face, whistling to himself as he went. Al
ways patient, always plodding, poor Tom!
Patiently falling asleep during the sermon.
and patiently listening open mouthed to the
closing hymn, his careless bright face, con-
trasting so oddly with his mothers guerra
lous and tear-Worn visage, won for him the
souhrequet of the widow Minton's rainbow
The minister Of the parish, mistaken soul,
deemed it incumbent to make a call on the
widow; and, on charity bent, it is said he
unwarily offered to employ her services in
his household foc season. He deemed it
his duty to rouse the old woman to activity.
He did rouse her; and it is averred that he
never found time to call at the cabin again.
Did he take her for common household
drudge, or a low-born field hand? She
thanked God she had too much spirit left
yet to put herself under anybody's feet.
He hadn't far to go to fiud scores Of drudges
and diggers, but be might go further before
he knew lady when he saw her.
1t might have been the afternoon after
the good mans visit that the widow sat
idly broo6ing aC her cabin door. He eyes
had a wandering, far-away look, and her
face was keener and thinner than ever
Beyond the bluff which sheltered her cabin
stretched far line of sea coast, the white
sand cleaning siivery in the sun. Far off
group of balhers in bright dresses frol-
licked between shore and water. They came
from the great hotel down beyond; she could
almost catch the sound of their voices as
she sat slowly rocking i'll her door way. 1t
: was a quiet afternoon; the air was soft and
: soothing. and the widows heart, so full of
; bitterness, fel5 itself sweeten and soften in
: the stiffness. This part of the shore, shell
tered by its ovcrhangiDg rock, was seldom
disturbed by intruders, but presently the
) watchers eye caught sight of young girl
, sp|ashing aud frolicking in the water just
beyond the rocks. 1t vas a pretty sight,
the round arms, the curving shoulders, the
+ swaying, floating figure. And perhaps the
{ old woman recalled with a sigh the time
; when she was young and blthe too, and
; had as CHEEKY a voice as that with which
the fair swimmer hailed her companions i'll
the distance.
Gazing absently on the smiling scene, a
reverie fell upon her, and when she looked
again, the Young water-nymph had disap
peared She had probably swum ashore
behind the rocks. The widow turned away
:. Rugged her thin shawl over her shoulders
and thought that the sea wind waschiily
Hank. What was that? Surely she heard
-, a cry. No merry shout or ringing laugl
this; it might be the cry OF wild bird OIL
: its way to its mate.
q She couldn't have got beyond her depth
, that young creature, surely. But, Ia. VIVA
: of it if she had? Dying young, a body
. gets quit of deal OF trouble. And
Yes, surely, that was scream. The widow
. looked sharply out. Would Tom neve
come? The tide was rising, and-ant
, something certainly was the matter. Sh'
. called she beckoned frantically to the bath
ers beyond; they seemed both blind aut
q deaf.
d No one, not one soul. at hand, and tina
ii young thing in peril of life. \ minute sh
= stood still, lstening-a feeble old woman
O with a haggard, scared face, to whom NJ
o one would have dreamed of looking 70
d help.
! - can't stand this" she said. "Seem
e | might pull out that old scow myself
o Tom" she screamed with yell that hell
Ii the concentrated energy of ten years. Blu
"a no Tom appeared. And it was the wido,
$ herself with those withered old hands tina
: disGained the minister's kitchen work i
.e was the widow herself, who, straining, tug
p ging, and with her gray hair tiuttering il
1t the wind, unloosed the old dug out from it
= moorings, and trembling unskillful, anne
v with rude paddle, went spinning out diz
lilly over the water. 1t leaked, the oil
id scow: it scorned the broken paddle and tn
ID heavy oars. but tiually it came drifting on
$ bindly and dizzily to the object of he
iy search, 4 plump hand with a glitterin
he ring upon it clutched the edge of th
as boat, nearly oversetting it. 4 young, cage
ii face with streaming hair, looked up fror
1e the water and gasping, shuddering, ha
| drowned, and wholly scared, the voun
+, water-nymph was presently aboard the oil
st craft.
ne son, how frightened l was' she crieC
a. 81 felt sure was losing all my strength
nr and would go to the bottom. 0, you goo
,r,