Smyrna times., 1882-03-08
Christina.
By MRS. REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.

was, some of the girls who read the Com
pdniOn no doubt know from experience.
Mother and lived alone in the dear
| old homestead. just outside of drowsy
village i'll Delaware. Old Sanders work ed
the farm, and lived in the tenant house,
as he had done for thirty years. hui he
was getting old and cranky, and threaten
ed every month to leave u.s. But our
great misery-''the messenger of Satan
sent to buffet us''-was the girl" who
was not in the kitchen.
With all the neighbOrhood We depended
for servants on the free negroes. " hn i'll
variably decamped in a body to the fields,
or the great canning houses as soon as the
peach crop came in,
! We tried a wandering tramp woman /;
she drank. A genteel tramp who had
seen better days she disappeared with
my one silk dress
During the whole spring and summer
mother and l worked, cleaned. canned
berries, MIXED and churned, and ''tried"
a succession of poor creatures who left
us with our patience worn to the last
! thread.
! One night mother announced, Il am
going to try an experiment. 1t shalt be
with foreigner who cannot speak word
OF English, who never heard of 'privi-
leges' Of canning houses, of the fashions.
or the beer-shop. l will 60 to Philadel-
phia Tomorrow, board an emigrant ship
and carry OFT an untamed savage a
woman Friday"
laughed at it as joke, and was good
deal startled that night when mother at
prayers asked that she 'might be success
fui in her undertaking." adding after a
little pause
May the woman | shall bring be of
help to ls, in making our life more cheer
ful and peaceble, and may We help her
upward in her way through life
We'll, mother" l said. doubtfulIv as
we started up to bed, II never knew YOU
to ask the Lord before to control the
kitchen affairs
Some people," she said grayeIy,
think it an insult TO the Almighty to
suppose that He concerns Himself about
our worries. Perhaps He has His mes
sengers for such small work in the upper
world, just as He has in this. But do
know that He does attend to all the things
that ask Him about"
Mother was as simple and direct as a
child, even about her religion.
The next day she visited the CITY. went
aboard a Bremen vessel, and brought
hOme-Christina. She was about sixteen !:
fat and round as churn; with clean
skin, blue eyes, funny little knob of hair
atop of her head, muslin waist, short,
gray, woOlen petticoat and heavy shoes.
She cannot speak word of English"
said mother, looking halfscared. "She is
Norwegian. The agent said she had
dreadful history. But her honest face
tempted me, l seemed to heara voice say
ing. Take this ONE"
"She is an escaped convict, no doubt :"
| said, THAT guiding voice of yours,
little mother, induced you 70 bring in Blue
Peter out OF the almshouse, who set fire
to the barn. Well, I'll show her about the
supper"
Christina followed me-dumb and watch
ful-frOm kitchen to dining-room, while l
laid the table prepared the mullins, fried
chicken and made coffee
She did not offer to touch anything, or
TO help me. But the next morning, when
went down to make ready the break
fast, there was the table laid the chicken.
mullins and coffee, precisely as she had
seen them the night before.
She was faithful and initiative as a
ChiAaman, and she was already good
cook and dairy-maid. She learned few
words of English, and with them she
showed her gratitude for any simple kind
ness shown her. We fancied, too. that
she took pleasure in the beautiful country
about her,
! 1t never looked more beautiful than it
did that summer. The great orchards
were red with fruit, constant showers
kept the forests pure in tint, the wild rose
and sweet brier covered every field and
roadside.
But the poor NOrgian was wretchedly
unhappy. Her unsmiling face and wide,
sad eyes seemed to carry misery into the
barn-yard and dairy, and leavened the
very bread we ate. When she was safely
in her own room / heard her stifled sobs
until late in the night.
One is almost tempted to remember
your convict theory" said mother, anx-
iously, one day
:" 1t doesn't matter. Well keep her if
she were Lucretia BOrgia herself" said,
luxuriOusly leaning back in the rocking
chair ON the porch. Tho idea of being
free from pots, pans and brooms at last p
We tasted our comfort at leisure
brought out some fancy work and books
which we had never hoped to find time to
read.
Then came letter from Julia Webb.
1t was a thunder-clap in cur clear sky.
Julia was cousin only by the sheersst
courtesy; a beauty; spoiled heiress; o
belle with dozen lovers, She was COM
ing en- route to Newport, to spend week
with US.
Every likely some of these troublesome
men will follow to find how your hermit
age suits poor little butterfly me-" she
wrote, "but you will make them welcome,
tdorlinp nuntie9i There is a Count Pasno