Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-01-25
A Wclnan's Life-Work.

Miss Nancy N. Clough died in Enfield,
New Hampshire, aged 80 years and 3
months. The story of the Life of this
woman seems more like romance than
reality. It may well be called romance
in real life. She was the Oldest of a
family of ten children, five of whom are
still living. While she was yet young,
her fathers farm in Enfield became
heavily incumbered, and was likely to
be sold under the hammer; his health,
too, was broken down, and the future of
that family appeared well-nigh hope
less. Nancy, .foreseeing the disastrous
consequences threatening the future,
resolved to save the dear home, and
went to work with heroic energy to
carry the resolution into effect. She
enlisted her brother Theophilus, next
younger than herself, in the laudable
enterprise, who cordially seconded her
efforts and gave his efficient aid.
Learning of the factories that had
just started in Lowell, Mass, she left
home and went to that city to find re-
munerative work. She entered one of
the factories as an humble operative,
but wrought, with such energy and skill
as to accomplish more work than two
ordinary operatives, receiving more
than double pay. Every leisure mo-
ment outside of the mills was also faith
fully employed to the same end. AS
her younger sisters and brothers came
to a suitable age she summoned their
ready help, while she was the ruling, di-
recting genius and moving power in the
undertaking
The result was that, after some years
of persistent efforts, the mortgage was
lifted from the farm, and the old home
was free from every claim that others
held upon it. Then she decided that
the old house must be rebuilt and re-
furnished, and the grounds beautifed,
and, when all this was done, the brave
girl went back to the home of her
childhood, with three sisters and one
brother, to pass the remainder of their
days.-B0Sto11 Journal.
Loves Echoes.
A pretty bird store and shell store,
hundreds of softly tinted and fantastic
shaped sea shells, and thousand hop
ping, chirping, happy birds, and there
enters an amiable young couple from
the inland country, who are SO absorbed
in each other as to be oblivious to the
gaze or comments of the world around
them. She has upon her innocent head
a daisy of bonnet with dafodiI trim
mings, and he supports on his head no
less an object than the identical Leg
horn hat his father, who is Justice
of the Peace, was married in. She
looks at the birds because she is a
woman, and he at the shells because he
is man; and by and by he carries a
large convoluted shell to where she is,
whispers in it, and lays it with loving
care against her pink ear, which was SO
pretty that it seemed reflection of the
shell itself. She listens, comprehends,
bushes fairer than any tinted shell that
finds itself cast naked from its bed on
the open shore, takes down the shell,
replies to the whispered words, and
holds it with both hands against the ear
of her stalwart lover, and then they
both smile and look inefable nothings,
and turn their heads away. What were
those whispered words that fingered,
and will linger, in their hearts as long
as the murmur dwells in the dainty sea
shell? What were those words that
started song in their souls sweeter
than that caroled by any of the song
birds there when beautiful morning
waited upon them in purple and gold,
and reminded them of their singing
with the rustic of it's breezes? They
were the old, old words that young lips
will forever utter-"I love you'll
Providence Journal