The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1881-10-26
Girls in Earnest.


to hear the true story of couple of
maidens who fought against fate, more
than twenty-five years ago, in the wilds of
Maine.
The Wellman family consisting of a
widow and six children lived I" off on
cross-road," half mile from the high
way and people in the quaint little VII
lage under the hill pitied them because
their house "looked so lonesome" 1t
was lowroofed, implanted cottage, with
a smart bush of southernwood each side
of the door-stone, and well-sweep few
rods to the right. Not at all charming
place, except for the grand mountain
view at the back door, which Marcia and
Jane drank in as they stood there feeding
the chickens.
These girls walked more than mile,
over billy, rocky road, to very COM
mon school, where at best they had only
five months instruction in the year. So
what could they be thinking of to try to
"get an education? Why, anybody
could see it was sheer impossibility
But here let me tell you that Marcia
Wellman didn't mind such trihes as i'm
possibilities Not she You couldn't
daunt her brave spirit any more than
you can kill out Canada thistles. The
winter she was sixteen and Jane fourteen
they had mastered common arithmetic
and were beginning algebra and Latin
Miss Gordon; the teacher, kindly heard
their lessons after school; for, as she
wrote her friends in New York, "they
are wonderful girls, and she felt it ali
honor to help them
In January of that year a great storm
set in, the wind and snow following one
another like two stump orators in a
Presidential campaign. The sun rose
next Monday morning and looked for the
little town of Vance, but it was buried
alive under the snow. Not fence was
to be seen, or the remotest trace of
road.
No school to-day |" sighed Jane
looking out at the earth as it lay in its
white sleep.
mo, but there1l be school tomorrow.
I can just see Mr.. Diggles, ever so far
off, with any number of oxen. Oh, what
cross it is to live on a cross-roadl"
Marcia set her teeth as she spoke,
knowing Mr.. Diggles to be an unneigh-
borly man, who would never think of
letting them out of their white prison.
Nobody'll remember US, said Jane,
tearfully; we shall be showed up for
week -
90 fe said Marcia, whose courage
always revived when she saw her sister
crying. Gil dig my way out, never
fearl"
Why, Marcia Fuller Wellman It's
half mile and the drifts are as high
as your head. You dig us out indeedl"
Oh, well you'll help" said Marcia,
confidently. "And mother Ii help"
She was skiliful general. She knew
her men. When Mrs. Wellman and
Jane heard her clear, ringing voice, and
saw her face set like Hannibal crossing
the Alps, there was nothing for it but
look up the snow-shovel. With that and
the barn-shovel and a spade, these three
intrepid women undertook to cut their
way through chain Of mountains to the
village.
Slow and steadyl' said the mother
thrusting her shovel into the heart of
pyramid.
Cut, slash, went the spade; that was
Marcia. Thump, plunge, went the barn
shovel that was Jane. All, but it was
terrible work for young arms
By noon, the cross-road was half cleared
and the girls caught their breath, and
wondered if Mr.. Diggles, down by the
corner wouldn't feel ashamed of him
SELF"
But he was so accustomed to feeling
ashamed that he didn't mind it. Like
the Levite, he passed by on the other
side and we will be charitable enough
to think he didn't see the brave women
who were trying to do the work of oxen.
Before dark, it was done and Marcia
Aourished her tired arms, exclaiming -
Sound the trumpet beat the drum
Tremble, Vance, we come, we comet
Tt was a brilliant victory. But the
girls did not know they had made their
lives sublime. They never dreamed that
this thing which was done in a corner was
spread far and wide through the streets
of New York.
Two weeks afterward, as they were
eagerly coming their Latin grammar in
the kitchen, the stage-driver dropped at
their door an enormous package contain
ing forty valuable books.
Books for them What did it mean
Perhaps Miss Gordon could have told, if