Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-06-28
NO. 1872.
Gales aud Sketehes.
THE BLiCKSMITHs DAUGHTER.

He said How tired you look am
real sorry" The mans tone was unmis-
takably honest. and struck home. once
said to poor working woman whose in
fant was i'll. Il am real sorry YOUR baby
is sick" The tired, worn mother burst
into tears. | was glad said it. The girl
Fanny looked at the honest young fellow
for an instant with surprise; then tear
forced a way into each eye. and she said
Yes, am tired, " and lonesome and spirit
itless, she might have added. but did not.
But an acquaintance was formed which
rpened rapidly, for she trusted him.
Fanny had asked her way until she was
offered employment in a house where
what may be called fraud was consumma-
ted-fraud on nature. Fanny accepted
the tedious work and offer of meagre
wages. However, the tedious work was
not altogether distasteiul. The house of
Ross x Thorne manufactured harsh imita-
tons; linen and muslin buds and bios.
SONS; linen and muslin foliage. linen
stalks and stems, studied to copy natures
choicest part; improved nature as II were
corrected a supposable mistake in the
fashion Of a roseleaf. or the tint of it. OF
course, the correction was a laughable
blunder. Nature never makes mistake.
In numerous churches in the land. in
concert halls, in the lyceums, and In end
less variety along the streets: in parlors
saloons, in the bonnets of the rich, and
quite often of the very poor were to be
found chipping and prunings from Ross
~ Thorne's great linen and muslin bushes,
where endless variety OF colors and kinds
is so attractive to the children of our
grandmother Eve. When man cares to
make sport OF woman, he ridicules her
| 81 a IN MI hAr la
praises it; and men praised the work of
fanny's fingers. The firm noticed this,
and gave her more work to do. but did
not raise her wages. Poor little woman
can see the blacksmith S daughter. sit
ting before table in a corner OF badly
ventilated room, preparing to create
moss rosebud. The petals, and all that
Is necessary tor the pretty INIT ,tion. are
at hand-it can lack only in fragrance.
A hand is pressed tight against her fore
head, as it in sincere, almost painful
thought. Perhaps she is conceiving a
triumph-a masterpiece OF skill in the use
OF cut and colored linen-something great.
something pregnant and to live with that
of the artist who, with his brush, grows a
tree to look as il the wind blew through
its foliage, or paints the water OF brook
as it il sang. But the poor girl is away
off in thought; memory mends the breach
of the past, and she is once more standing
by the one porch door, with her happy
father, viewing her real flowers. her live
flowers that she used to nurse so tendery
in the golden summer weather:
"Tnsre they grew, and grew, and grew,
Red and yellow, and pink and blue.
Those beautiful, beautiful flowers"
Fanny lodged in tenement of stone,
high and stiff. Her neat little bed cham.
Der was on the third floor, rear and its
one window looked toward sunset. The
lodger overhead was young man read
ing law in dngy. gloomy Office in Mas
sau street. Like an athlete, he had daily
wrestles with tecbnicalities. He took the
bone OF contention between his mental
teeth aud doggedly worried it. He was
mortified TO think that tomorrow he might
have to beg meal for the bone had no
meat on it as vet. To divert his mind, he
used spare moments for reading the
Life of Daniel Webster and Lord Chester
fields Letters to his Son. He was cram
ming himself with facts. until his brain
hummed like beehive in summer time.
On that April evening that the lodger
overhead had passed Fanny on the stairs
and said, " am real sorry you are tired,
he was bound on an errand of mercy
LOT nlUiStll, DuI uol iOl tuOsC dOOut ulI1,
as will be noticed. He had set off to pur-
chase fiddle, for too much study had
lett his head no better than it ought to be-
He had overstrained himself mentally.
He must do something to tighten the
leaden weight of law. So John Whily
bought cheap fiddle, and went into prac-
tice. He blundered unmist ikably with his
violin: he gross y abused the public ear.
His fingers ends were clumsy, didn't
perch upon the strings with any fitness,
and showed a marked lack of confidence,
and the irregular drawing OF the over
resined camefs-hair across the taut catgut
made sounds that produced a sensational
effect on listener, not unlike the effect
of Il good deal of pricky heat. But he
kept at it, After weeks torture of the
neighborhood, my man Jack performed
Rory O'More," with variations that
were piercing. Then followed Bonnie
Doom" another week, aud 90 The Camp
bells Are Coming was the prophesy OF
the strings The undualing tone OF the
latter affects many peculiarly. Can the
reader listen to spirited rendering on
strings of THE Campbells Are Coming"
and not be mpelled to prance with his
two legsP | trow not As the spring
twilight heightened Fanny would sit by
the window and listen while the lodger
overhead scratched and Numbered with
his new purchase. In strange way.
what he did was music in her ears. But
when he achieved The CampbelIs Are
Coming tears came TO her eyes. She
had played the tune again and again, in
the old days, on the discordant Old piano,
and her father, in kind OF agony, had
mark ed time with all fours. sse'.f
There was an ill-ktpt publ s1qu1gofa
block or two west OF the pa9Ikfl tQ4aWApt
where John and Fanny Lodged. 1t6 ~ !.
boring man and womsn ahd Rmily H6eftd
to il as the weasherFlpene4v S1166I1IiM4s
a rude bench In, The sYaaae tAlasptla1tQo !
liked to occupy IN ths IeYeBia9tdtppqQ-
manged view aoN9 4 ;{{s1I. ~ led {e
watched, ,thssUS sjferSsAllQ Wt1o1GNs.
HeightA saEspnN; - n1q Cd
lRskS les Heel tad 4l s le. IA "a