Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1881-07-21

Sunday-school class, and on alternate
Sundays they went, one or the other, to
church. Whatever Mary gave in chari-
ity was as the widows mite to her, for
she was sorely pinched for the real
needs of life. She could, and did, give
away mended and faded garments
stockings she knit between daylight
and dark" some food to the absolutely
starving, some small deiicacies to the
sick poor; time to visit the lonely. the
sad and the ailing she also gave, for she
could carry her baby along, and found
over and over again that the bright, un-
conscious face, the innocent smile, the
unsympathetic calm and sweetness OF
the child. did more good to the sick than
her own words or feeling. Her life was
so quiet, her opportunities so small, that
il ran on like hidden brook in mead
ow whose course you only trace by the
greener and stronger grasses that con-
ceal it. Yet there was not sick Or sad
person who did not want to see Mary
PIatt, and her happy laugh did good
like medicine" wherever it was heard
A fter several years they were able to
take little house to themselves, and
from its garden, solely Mary's care,came
the first strawberries, the freshest rad
ishes, the crispest lettuce, not only to
add to to their own meals, but to share
with the neighb0rs, and the one early APP
pie tree that shaded her kitchen door
was blessing to everybody who liked
the fruit. "Give, and it shall be given
unto you," was sbnndsntlY realized
when. time after time, the delicate baby
sickened and fought its way back to life
again with tenxcity babies only pos
sess, watchers were always ready to
take the mothers place at night, dainty
food sent in, every kindness that cOun-
try neighbors can show layished upon
her, for all her neighbors had some debt
Ofkindness topays 1Flaf ts-.4'se
Then her cellar never was empty, for
one would send her barrel of apples,
another bushel of potatoes, and still
another a few parsnips, a head or two
of cabbage, or jug of cider vinegar. Il
never saw such good people in my life.
she said once to Charles, with tears in
her eyes; They're always doing some
thing for u.s.
"Strange, amt it ?" said Charles, smil-
ing with a queer smile, but he said no
more; he knew very well why they were
so kind, but he would not tel Mary he
loved her with all his heart, but he was
too shy to praise her, after the reticent
New England fashion.
So the days passed, carrying with
them their little cares and little pleas
ures; and Charles and Mary found that
if their life was not all sunshine, the
sunshine which did come into it was all
the sweeter because of the occasional
shadow. The tastes of neither were ex-
pensive; they did not pine after luxuries
which they could not afford, and were
quite content with the even course of
their quiet home-life. fs
After awhile Charles fell i'll of a fever,
and the extra necessities of sickness
brought them into debt; this was real
trouble to Mary; to have all going out
and nothing coming in, seemed hard to
her; her husband was not dangerously
i'll, but he could not work; it was four
long months before he resumed his place
in the store, and they were almost two
hundred dollars in debt. But Mary's
cheerful face and courage held up her
husband in this strait. If she was trou-'
bled he never knew it; she took in what
sewing she could get, sold her yegeta-
bles and fruit to the tavernkeeper, in
stead of giving them away, and mended
the old clothes for themselves instead of
the poor about them; for she knew well
justice is better than generosity Slow
.ly, almost cent by cent, she laid up a few
dollars, and applied them in these small
sums to their debts. Charles came home
one night in desponding mood enough /;
he had been dunned by the village
apothecary for his bill, and though he
did not mean to tell Mary, she soon
coaxed out of him the secret ofshis weary
face and aching head; she heard his sto-
ry silently, and then went to the drawer
where her coin accumulated, and bro't
out with the little box bundle of bills
for she had exacted a receipt for even
the smallest sum paid inland row out
of dimes, quarters, five cent pieces, here
and there dollar bill, she counted ont
ten dollars, and, running over what she
had already paid on account, found they
were but five dollars in debt when that
ten should be paid. The druggist was a
careless man, and eager for money, had
presented Charles with a bill on which
none OF .Mafy's money had been enter
ed. Here was a pleasant, enough sur
prise for the cast down man ), to be sure
there were other debts remaining, but
there was an outlook of hope before
him; and as he sat down that day to a
meal of potatoes, corn bread, green's, and
a bit of salt beef so small it was but a
relish merely for the vegetables, liter
al 'dinner of herbs" the text came in
Voluntarily to his lips, and he smiled as
lie looked over at Mary and little Nelly,
and repeated the words Of the wise man
for he had, indeed, the. love and faith
that made poverty sweeter than many a
rich feast.
Yet his naturally despcndent nature
gave way sometimes; he hated to see his
wife working so hard, sparing so steadi-
ly, pinching in all her comforts, and one
day the feeling found words, rs he
watched her thin fingers pulling in and
out the little household dagger that has
stabbed so many life out with its CONT
less 3hrusts. ss5s ssS Sssi -
"How tired you look, Molly!" he said
sadly. Il hatesthe sight of needle in
your hands; it seems as if you were sew
ing yourself instead of Mr.. Peters shirts
on, if we were only richi''' 3 C.G /
"Dont say that, Gharfey! sne an
swered, with keen pain in her tone
Don't wish for money; aren't we rich
in ever so many things money don't
fetch /? What a lot of friends We.have
got all round; what a nice little house
and lovely garden ;snd Nelly ami leach
other, and"-here her voice fell with
feeling and awe-"and treasures laid up
where moth and rust don't corrupt
Il know it. dears but sonetirnes, when
you work so hard, L do wish / could 81 We
you some rest and pleasureF ssst
II don't want anyi' she answered
brightly. 81 have enough. Do you sup
pose Squire Smith takes half the CON-
fort in his beautiful house, all shut
up and. dark for fear of sun 10 fade and
dirt to tarnish, that NE do in our sunny
fresh old house? Or do you believe that
he takes half the pleasure in spending
| his monav wp do in POnt irving and