Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1881-10-06
PRUDENCE GRAY.

That's my name, for father said there
wasn't better barge on the river than
the Prudence, and il was called the
same he was sure there would never be
a better girl.
1 used to think our barge, which was
a very small billy-boy, il you know
what that is-if you don't. must tell
you that it's barge built with rounded
ends and low bulwarks, meant for car
rying loads up rivers-I used to think
our barge, / say, very, very large
shin, till 1 grew old enough to COM
pane it with those that passed us going
up and down the river, and then it used
to seem to me that it would be wonder
fully fine to go on board one OF those
great ships and go sailing away, far
away across the ocean, instead of just
coasting along the Sheerness and up
the Nedway, as we used TO go year after
year.
I can't tell you how my child-life
slipped away, living with mother and
father on board the barge, in a little
bit OF a cabin with a tiny stove; all
know is that was happy, and that l
never hardly went ashore, and when I
did, waJ frightened and wanted to
ge. lack; and at last seemed to have
grown all at once into a great girl, and
father and were alone.
Yes, quito alone. for mother had left
us very suddenly, and We had been
ashore, father and /, and came back
from the funeral and we're sitting on
the cabin hatch before could believe
il was anything but terrible dream,
and that / should not awake and find
that she was alive once more, as blithe
and CHEEKY as ever, ready to take mp the
tiIlar or pull as a rope when father
wanted any help.
Father was q changed man after that,
and as couple of years slipped by, the
work on the barge fell more and more
into my hands. and I used to smile to
myself as I saw how big and strong
they had grown; for father grew quiet
and dull day by day, and used TO have
a stone bottle filled whenever he went
ashore, and then sit with il in the cabin
till called him to come and help me
with the sail.
Our barge was well known oil about
the mouth of the river and far up be
yond the bridge, and somehow don't
know how IL was-the men on the dif-
ferent boats We passed had always a
kind hail or wave Of the hand for us
as we gIided by.
Poor father seemed TO grow more and
more broken and helpless every day,
and this frightened me, and made me
work TO keep the barge clean and ship
shape lest the owners should come on
board and find fault with father and dis
miss him, aud that / knew would break
his heart. So worked on, and in q
dull heavy way father used to thank me;
and the time glided on till one day as
We we're lying off Southland, with tho
sea CLASSY and not wind enough 10 fill
the sails, felt my cheeks begin 10
burn as I leaned back against the tiller,
and would not turn my head because /
could hear : boat being sculled along
toward rs, and knew II was coming
from the great lee board barge lying
astern.
Hes coming to see father" ! said
TO myself at last and - hail came ]
vas obliged 10 turn. and there stood In
the little boat he was sculling, John
Grove, In his dark trousers. blue Jersey
aid scarlet cap, and Is ! saw his sun
burnt face, I felt my heart beating fast,
and I knew he was not 9 mi y 10 ZEE
father, but to see me.
We had hardly ever spoken; but |
had known John Grove for years nov,
and we hal nodded and waved TO one
another often az We passed up and down
the river.
EIeave rs rope. lasssV he said, and
do il essaminsly. Hs hiIehed i
atoand hi siwaft d ilis Loaf. nd ~
~ xsf side kofef0 / could STR