Louisiana capitolian. (Baton Rouge, La.) 1879-1881, 1880-11-30
A BROKEN PITCHER.

| had been home from Oxford for a
couple of months, and as the end of ny
vacation was drawing nigh, one day my
brother Arthur and l were saunterine
through lonely vale. ID ' "a
Suddenly my attention was arrested
by Arthur, exclaiming: ~ say, Tom,
look" pointing to q female figure lean
ing against an old stile in an attitude
OF the utmost detection, What beau.
tiful face that girl has,
And obscured though she was by the
dire poverty which was evidenced by
her dress, she was beautiful to behold
as she stood gazing down, with an OK
preston Of terror in her eyes, upon
some fragments of broken earthenware
at her feet. /
] could not resist the temptation to
speak, 80 going up to her sido, I said
kindly-"My child, you seem in trouble.
Can't | help you" .,.
The child upliftel her eyes a moment
to my, face with a strange look, in
which distrust seemed to be the upper
most feeling, Then, appearing to gain
confidence from what she discerned in
my features, she said 81 have broken
the pitcher and aunt will beat Inc for il.
Oh, | I'm afraid to 60 home"
Where is your homer I asked, and
what is your name7' p '. -'
Her old expression of mistrust re-
turned as she moved away few steps
from my side. ~ w. 81 p
What do you want to know for 2 she
asekd, brusquely. s,
. 1t was evident that Kindness was a
thing unknown to the poor, neglected
looking child. --.------..- .--
J want to know simply because feel
friendly interest in you. Here l con
stinued, drawing from my pocket gol-
den coin, is money to buy another
pitcher. Your aunt need not know of
the breaking of this one, and you will
escape your dreadful punishment. Now,
do you believe that l mean only kindly
to youp - k~sw
Zee The dark eyes dilated then they soft
ened with e sudden film of tears, as
grasping my hand, she exclaimed, in
eager, childish tones:
oh, sir, l thank you. Now, need
not be afraid to 60 home. | am no sorry
l was so rude, but it is seldom that any
but rough words come to me. will
tell you my name: 1t is Annie, and /
am old Hester's niece .,-.. b.. ..t...
As | listened to her words my heart
filled with pity, for had heard dreadful
stories Of the kind of life the old WOMAN
she called aunt led, and wondered no
logger at the manner Of suspicious re-
serve which had struck me so strange
in one of her youth.
The next day babe goodbye for an
other year to my home.
Amid the duties and distractions of
college life, the above episode slipped
from my mind. to be recalled once more
on perusing letter from my brother:
,,,i You remember the Little girl With
the beautiful face you befriended when
she brokehsr pitcher p he wrote. "Well,
she and that dreadful old woman Hester
have left the place, and no one knows
why or where they have gone. fear
that poor child has a sad future before
her.
Ten years passed since the date of the
above-years which had wrought many
changes. In them my father had died,
and later, my brother Arthur, grown to
mans estate. had brought to the old
house o bonny bride. Then, In the
course of a year later, little stranger
had arrived, who grew and thrived, and
in due time learned to stretch out bis
arms in welcome te bis bachelor uncle.
My friends often laughed and joked
me about following my younger broth.