Sharp County record., 1878-04-05

removing it after that? ana your spec
Mating on the singular StubbornneSs OF
the human heart would not have been
lessened had yoH caught sight OF him,
bv the fickering candle in his upper
window, sitting there motionlesS with
an eve on the gate below. Perhaps ne
expected Rebecca back after her gift. L
do not know. =,
"She's one Of the town poor, IS Old
Betsey,n said Rebecca, meekly, and had
said it meekly year after year, striving
to allure the vagrant old woman into
feeling at home on the charity list Of the
GOOD towns-folk, and to rest her aching
old bones in the town poor-honse. But
old Betsey was not to be trapped.
If one must be poor and ragged, at
least let one have plenty Of freSh-air
leisure, says old Betsey. To be pauper
and drudge both is little too much.
And to be preached to and prayed over
and hedged in right and left, and to
scrub work-house floors and 8cour work
house knives, all for a bit of bread
bah! that is all unbearable, says old
Betsey, Struggling her bony shoulders
under her ragged shawl, and setting out
warily on her. everlasting tramp. She
is an incorrigible vagrant, utterly IRE
claimable. Perhaps Rebecca thinks a
half-aedged thought like this when she
finds her prey has escaped her and is
fairly on the road again.
On the road again, untamable, rag
ged, hungry, and free. She walks at a
rapid, uneven pace, her thin shawl tlut-
tering in the wind, her untidy slippers
Tapping at her heels. 1t grows dusk
as she steals along; the road is dreary
with cloud and shadow, and with a
mocking moon that CLEANS out now and
then, dOdging viciously after this gray
old CHEST Of a woman fitting below
There is white object there ahead Of
her-something tall and queer, with a
round white head. The vagrant swerves
a minute out Of her way, surveying 1t
furtiycly. Then she puts forth her
cIaw-like hand and clutches greedily
Rebecca's sweet, dainty loaf.
Aha! what good providence is here ]!
All! can it be that Fate should come,
for once in a way, with sweetness and
luxury in her hand for an old pauper,
and night and darkness to devour it in!
Bewildered with pleasure, old Betsey
hugs the dainty under her faded shawl.
There is a crash then, as if the heav-
ems were falling; a shout that curdles
her thievish blood; a rough hand is laid
upon her with vise-like grasp. Law and
Justice seem to have come down bodily
upon the marauder; but it is only old
Ware, who has been watching from his
window. His hand is raised to strike
the thief-the thief with vagrant and
vagabond written all over her; in her
vuI pine eyes, Pf~I long blue nose, her
1xit15nfi1y oraTJ5 n, alIo. y7uilrrni
hrinks back, ,cowedng, against the gate 6
'ost, with wheezy cough; the old
hawl falls away from her face. Out {
ONES the moon, and sails along with a {
mister ray pointing right down on the
crouching figure and on the
ountenance that for one instant up I
urns toward the assailant.
"My God" cries Timothy. And
hat is all. His hand fails at his side,
e turns and walks back to the house,
oaving the wretch to her plunder
The wretch is mere animal, after all
"a hunted animal, it is true, with all g.,
he greed and cunning of such. She :
make her way somewhere with her prize i,
1t doesn't much matter where. But 7
here comes up a storm at midnight, q :
blood-chilling storm, that
NIGHT make the veriest tramp thankful
or shelter. Old Ware, sitting motion :
ess in his upper chamber, hears the ,
alters shake overhead. He listens: ,
perhaps he is afraid the old house will
.ome down over his head. The wind
aves and shrieks about window and
doorway. He gets up by-and-by, and
ifting the dripping sash, looks out into
he road. He sees nothing; no boys
will rob his melon patch tonight, and
10 beggar come whining to his gate.
Afar off, where the road circles toward
he south land, old Betsey has crawled
nto the shelter of a way-side barn. No,
here'is nothing to be seen anywhere
about. Timothy shuts the window with
. shudder, and crawls to bed.
A week after this, Rebecca, sweet and
intless as a snow-drop, stops at the
gate once more.
cold Betsey, my poor old vagrant,
eft US last night, neighbour" she says.
= The blankets and pillows thee sent
we're very great charity, but she need
eth our charity no more"
"No more?" repeated old Ware, va
,antly.
"She died last night" answers Re-
oecca, and her'lip trembles little.
There is no reply. Rebecca does not
break the long, long pause. She is used
to the old mans moods. Finally, she
sets her face to the road again; it is get