Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1878-07-06
THE Lucky CLEANER.

been generally considered one of the
wealthiest farmers in the neigbor-
hood, but he was now found to be
insolvent. For years he had been
living beyond his means.
81 told you so," said one of the
wise-acres, "when he sent his dar-
ter to school in Richmond, as if the
schools here wasn't good enough !
/ knowed Just how it would be. ;"
The farm was mortgaged for its
entire value, and was Immediately
foreclosed and when other debts
were paid there was not shilling
left.
Edith and her mother would have
no roof even toshelter them if Edith
had not inherited from a maiden
aunt a little tumble-down cottage,
with an acre or two of pasture-land,
on the outskirts of the village.
Thither the two mOurners repaired
with the few bits of furniture the
law had allowed them, and began
the hardest of all struggles, the bat
tie with poverty on the part of
wOmen-a battle rendered the more
difficult in this case because both
had been tenderly, even luxurious
ly nurtured, and had never before
known what it was to have to deny
themselves.
81 am such a burden to you,
Edith ~ moaned the widow, who
was now completely broken down,
not only in spirits but in health also.
eff it wasn't for me you could go
off somewhere and earn your own
living like a lady. You could teach
music, or be gOverneSs, or obtain
a situation in a school. But while
Pm an invalid, and / suppose l
shall always be one, you are tied to
my bedside"
Edith was a different character
from her mother. She was more
! energetic, more self-reliant, more
heroic. She had also the courage of
youth on her side.
I" We shall get on famously," she
said. "What with my needle, our
COW and the vegetable garden /
shall make, we shall get along IA
mously."
So this refined, cultivated girl,
who had been reared, as it were,
amid rose leaves. went to work un-
cOmplainingly to support her mother
and herself. For a while, too, it
seemed as if her confidence was
prophetic. Mrs. Miller recovered
her health so as to be able to be
about. Everything went well.
AT the end of the first summer,
Edith, proudly counting up her
gains said: "MOther, dear, we have
not only supported ourselves, but
we have saved money; we are get
ting rich"
But, alas different times came.
In the autumn Mrs. Miller fell i'll
of rheumatic fever, for the situation
of the cottage was low and damp.
She had to take to her bed again.
She was no longer able to help Edith
with her needle. Poor Edith could
now earn but little herself, her time
being occupied so much in nursing
her mother. The doctors bill and
medicines soon absorbed her small
savings. She began to fall behind.
The COW finally had to be sold, and
| at last, in order to avert absolute
starvation, Edith was compelled to
mortgage the cottage. In the two
years that followed, matters went
from bad to worse. Mrs. Miller re-
manned bed-ridden. Do all she
could, Edith was unable to make
| both ends meet. The interest on the
mortgage fell into arrears. A soil
citor named Jupp, who repre-.
scented the holder, began to clamOl
for the arrears. At last, in the third
summer of Edith's orphanage, came
a legal notice that unless the mort,
gage was paid up in full, the cot
| tage would be sold.
The day before this notice was
served, Edith had gone in person tC
the attorneys, hoping to touch his
! heart. But he was deaf to her tears
and representations. He had the
reputation of being mercileSs, and
! Edith saw now that the character
was deserved.
cts no use your coming heren'
he said, rudely. II am acting fol
others and not for myself. You'd
better spend your time in getting
together the interest you owe.
can't interfere. Bring the money
or the law must take its course"
When Mrs. Miller heard the re.
suit of this interview, and when
afterward, the formal notice was
served, she moaned feebly, anC
turned her face TO the wall.
awe shall have to beg, or go tC
the pOOr-hOuse, or die on the road
she said. ooh, that | should evel
have lived to see this day !"
Edith herself was at the end O
her resources. For a while she lay
PROSTATE on the bed, where she haC
flung herself beside her mother, the
two mingling their tears.
But the brave girl rallied at last
She remembered that there was
nothing in the house to eat, anC
that she had no money to buy any
thing with. At first she thought o
going to the village store and beg
ging for a little more credit, bu1
when she recalled how CURLY this
had been refused, only a week be
fore, she abandoned the idea in de
spair. Suddenly it flashed upon hel
that the wheat was being cut on the
great Wheatland farms. In the
'Squire's time the poor had beer
allowed to come with sickle anC
cut what they wished. 1t was {
Scriptural custom, which the Wheat
lands had maintained from father
to son for generations. The ole
Squire was dead, but Edith had M
doubt that the privilege would still
be accorded; and looping up he
skirt to look as much like one of he
rustic neighbOrs as possible, SHE
took a sickle and went forth like
Ruth of old.
Her heart did not begin to fai
her until just before she reached the
harvest field, when she remembered
that the heirs of the Squire Were
abroad, and that Mr.. Jupp was
their agent.
New men, new measures" Sht
said, and stopped at the the gate
with a beating heart. "What if
am driven OFF,"
But the thought of her sick mother
and Of the empty cupboard, made
her desperate. She opened the gate
and went in.
The reapers were sweeping OF
ahead, in a long, graceful line
others, far behind, were binding VI
the shelves, and an overseer, OF
what seemed one, was on horseback
directing operations.
Edith began in corner, near The
gate, far away from the rest. She
looked furtively, now and then
toward the OVerseer, and seeing M