The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1878-06-14
Select Story.
PRUDENCE GRAY.
From Cdsseirs Magazine.

That's my name. For my father said there
wasn't better barge on the river than the
Prudence, and if | was called the same he
was sure there would never be a better
girl.
Poor father ! lie was always very fond
of me- and my earliest rememberances are
of sitting on the tller and having ride,
when he stood there of an evening steering
the barge, with the great cinnamon. red sail
filled out by the wind, and the water foam
ing and bubbling by us as we ran on up the
river toward the big city, where the ships
lay close together in dock and against the
wharves, emptying their loads or waiting for
others before going away across the seas.
used to think our barge, which was a
very small billy-boy, if you know what that
| is--if you don't must tell you that it's a
barge built with rounded ends and low bull.
warks, meant for carrying loads up rivers
and built also to be able to go out to sea
little while, running along the coast--I used
to think our barge | say, very, very large
ship, till grew old enough to compare il
with those that passed us going up or down tht
river, and it used to seem to me that it woult
be wonderfully fine to go on board one 0
those great ships and go sailing away-fa
away-across the ocean, instead of just coast
ing along to Sheerness and up the Mcdwa!
as we used to go year after year, loaded deel
down in the water with pottery or hops, o
even bricks.
I can't tell you bow my child-life slippe,
away, living with mother and father ol
board that barge, in little bit of a csbi
with a tiny stove all I know is that wa
very happy and that l never hardly wen
ashore, and when did Twas frightened an
wanted to get back and at last seemed t
have grown all at once into great girl, AM
father and 1 were alone.
Yes, quite alone, for mother had left II
very suddenly, and we had been ashore 9
Sheerness, father and !, and came back fror
the funeral and were sitting on the cabi
hatch, before could believe it was anythin
but a terrible dream, and that should ne
wake and find that she was alive once NOR
as blithe and CHEEKY as ever, ready to tax
the tiller or a pull at rope, the same as
did when father wanted any help.
Father was changed man after that, an
as couple Of years slipped by the work o
the barge fell more into my hands, and use
to smile to my self as saw how big and re
and strong they had grown. For father gre
quiet and dull day by day, and used to hsv
a stone bottle filled whenever he went asho
and then sit with it in the cabin all alor
till called him to come and help with Il
sail.
Not that wanted much help, for ours W
only small barge, and once started, with
fair wind, could manage her well enough
while when We had to tack backwards al
forwards across the river mouth, cou
always lock the tiller by the rope that hui
on to the Delaying pin, and give it a hit,
on this side or that side, till had taken
pull at the sheet and brought the bar
round on the other tack.
must have passed halfof my life in tho
days leaning back against that tiller, wi
its end carved to look like great acorn, a
the name of the old barge, Prudence, {
deep in the side. There I'd stand looki
out ahead as weglided along over the smoo
sea- passing buoy here and a light the
giving other barges and smacks wide ber
and listening to the strange squealing no
of the gulls as they wheeled and hovered a
, swept by me, so closely sometimes tha
: could almost have touched them with !
hand.
Our barge was well known all about
!. mouth OF the river and far up beyond
: bridge; and somehow | don't know how
/. was, the men on the different boats we pas
had always a kind hail or wave of the hi
3 for US, as we glided by, il we were too far
. for the friendly shout 10 reach U.S.
!. Sometimes I'd run the barge pretty cl
: to the great ships and steamers, inward
4 outward bound, so as to look at the ladit
n saw on board not that | cared to do so V
: often, because it seemed To be so differ
il. from mine that felt as if / was anot
$ kind of being, and it used 10 set me wono
= ing and make me think; and at such til
= I've leaned against the tiller and drean
!. in a waking fashion of hos | would like
read and write and work as had seen la.
d sitting and reading and working on the de
;, of the big ships, under the awning
: then had to set my dreams aside and h
apull at the sheet or take reef in the =
= because the wind freshened and my dres
!. all passed away.
. don't think poor father meant it unki
e ly, but he seemed TO grow more and IN
y broken and helpless every day and
d frightened me, and made me work to I
y the barge clean aud sbip-shape. lest
e owners should come on board and see thi
" slovenly, and find fault with father and
miss him, and that knew would break
heart. So worked on, and ia duh he
way father used TO thank me !; and the I
!. glided on, till one day, as We were ly ine
Southend, with the sea CLASSY and not W
t,u enough to fill the sails, felt my cheeks
10 gin to burn as leaned back against the
Ter aud would not turn my head, becau
could hear a boat being sculed along tow,
~ u, and knew 1t was coming from the q
lee-board barge lying sstern.
!, Hes coming to see father" | said to
,s,r self at last 10 choking voice and a
eV- hail came was Obliged TO turn, and Il
stood up in a little boat he was sculllng ,
an oar over the stern John Grove, in
sla, dark trousers, blue jersey and scarlet q
Is, as and as | saw his sunburnt face and br
4 Ehs q arms and hands ielt my heart beating
attn and knew he was not coming to see fat
= but to see me.
We had hardly ever spoken, but
known John Grove for wears now nm,