Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1881-04-20
STORY OF A WHITE SLAVE.

bright squares on the glossy floor,
aud the wind out of the old apple
orchard, anil the long line Of snowy
cherry trees, drifting in at the open
door, with its delicious perfume and
breezy breath. A woman stands AT
the table, on which are piled high the
freshly baked loaves. brown aud fra
graut-a woman no longer young, but
whose hair is plentifully sprinkled
with gray, and whose form is vsibly
bent, as il from the weight of years.
And yet she had seen but forty years,
albeit years that could but ''leave
their traces on heart and BRAIN" so
full have they been crowded with the
burdens that, once borne, leave their
ineffaceable impress for all time to
come. She has been fair once. If
you doubt il look at the blooming
girl who enters from the porch, with
ripping, FURNISHED hair and glad blue
eyes-the image of her mother they
call her, as that mother looked twenty
years ago. You have seen two roses
on their parent stem, one with its
creamy heart, rich and fragrant, just
opening to the kiss of the June sun /;
the other, little lower down, faded,
withered, and with scentless leaves,
sadly folding from the light and dew,
neither of which is able to renew its
life and beauty. You have noted the
contrast, and yet have not doubted
that the dying flower, in its heyday
and morn of poisoning, was equally
sweet and glorious with the now un-
folding one. And if Lillian Grey is
lovely and full Of woman's promise,
no less so was Miriam Grey, standing
in the May sunlight score of years
agone. The elder woman looks at the
young girl with an etfable light of
love and yearning in her faded eyes.
"Lillie," says she tenderly, 81
finished your dress last night except
the lace at the neck and wrists, so
you can have it to wear this after
noou."
"Why, mamma" Lillian Grey an
swered, II had intended to wear some
other. did not wish you to sit ny
when you were so tired. You know
| did not"
But wished You to have it, dear"
her mother said fondly. 1.-The other
girls will be in white, and | could no,
bear that you should be disappoint-
ed"
Her daughter went mp to her, and
pnlting her arms around her neck
kissed her pale mouth tendsrly. 1t
was little deed, but it sweetened
that whole weary day of toll for Ma
Ram Grey.
"You had better dress before din.
ner, Lille" her mother resumed, $50
as to be- ready when they call for
YOU"
II will help you first about the din
Der," the girl replied
But her mother put her by with the
assurance that she could do quite
well alone. And so the thonghtless
though really unselfish girl left the
kitchen, and tripped to her own little
chamber, began her simple toilet,
while her mother, flushed and weary,
bent above the glowing range, and
hurried to and fro, from pantry to
cellar, and from store room to table,
in her preparations for the midday
meal.
hurried ! yes, she was always hur-
rying to and fro in this domain; she
had hurried for many years, would
hurry still, no doubt, until some day
when the power was gone, and the
reaction came, and the worn out ma
chine refused to longer perform its ac-
eustomed functions. Then the hurry
would be over.
Farmer Grey came in from the
field flushed and heated, his great
brawny frame in stricking contrast to
the slender figure of the woman, who
fitted about, while he washed at the
great sink in the corner, and then
asked the stereotype question:
us dinner readyi"
EYES," she answered quickly
"You can call the men,"
And without one smile for the
weary face opposite his own at the
table, without taking note that her
own plate OF food was scarcely touch
ed, John Grey ate bis hearty, well
cooked meal in silence, and when he
hail finished, rose from the table, fol.