Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1882-09-23

before knew her, 1 lelt tnat This girl nau
history, and that in some way she had
suffered, and borne nobly.
The cottage at first seemed dark after the
sunshine, but as my eyes became accus-
toned to the subdued light, saw the figure
of an old woman lying on a bed at the
farthess end of the room. had never seen
any one living SO absolutely devoid of
color as she was = hair and face were
bleached-nothing but the keen aud rest
less look OF her eyes, and the incessant
movement of her long, thin hands busily
knitting, spoke of life.
The girl went up to her, and told her in
low voice who | was, and then placed a
chair for me by the bedside; and as l sat
down, | felt conscious OF peculiar feeling,
as though in the presence OF some wierd
being, and | sat silent for little by the
side of this motionless figure, under the
gaze of those piercing and questioning
eyes. When she spoke the impression was
increased, as it was in clear, shrill whis-
per that seemed to reverbrate through the
room in a manner absolutely startling.
l asked if she had been long lying there,
and she said, Nearly eleven years, with
a little sigh.
g Does your granddaughter always live
with you % asked.
she looked at me quickly, Do we mean
Jean? SHE'S no my granddaughter she's
only JEAN"
'Only Jean" 1 thought it sounded
strange way of naming the acknowledging
girl before me, moving to and fro so quiz
city about household matters, but it was
not said unkindly. Was it only my fancy,
or did brighter color come into her face
as she heard the words?
| stayed some little time there; and
though the old woman land whose name l
found was Elspetb, commonly called Widow
Grant, did not ask me to return, she
looked pleased when | offered to do so ;
and l left the place interested in my new
acquaintance, Jean showing me quicker
but not so beautiful a way home, across
the moor.
CHAPTER II.
The parishioners of whom | was now in
charge lived in widely scattered houses,
and | could not often help contrasting
their lives with the lives of my own peo-
pie in the south. There everything was
contracted and small-space was our most
needed thing-famiiies were huddled to-
gether in houses made more dirty and
wretched by what is called common
STAIR" and which it was therefore no ones
business to keep clean and though an in
spection was made now and then by Sani-
tary Commissioners, and charitable people
did their best, there are thousand ways
in which sanitary laws can be evaded and
charitable people, with few notable ex-
ceptions, have the most unhappy knack of
assisting the wrong people. Who can
blame them? AS a rule, the deserving
poor are exactly those who shrink from
help, and who, with a handful of meal
and hardly potato left, show a brave
face TO the world and allow no necessity to
appear.
The very poor are everywhere deserving
of pity; but in the country fresh air,
little frewood, and, above all, pure water,
are to be had for nothing. In towns the
first is often not to be got the poor can
not afford to buy the second and when l
think of the water rate-I am no political
economist have most unjust dislike to
the man who collects the water rate-and
never could see why Gods free gift to
man should be sold in spoonfuls at the cost
of many lives However, much is being
done and more will follow.
Here, in this beautiful place, space was
quite unlimited All down the hillside
linen lay bleaching in the sun, and another
contrast was not only in the way it was left
out all night, but in the absence of belts,
bars, and shutters in the houses. Not even
the shop had shutters, and theft was as I'M
known there as though a mounted guard
watched necessarily over the place.
The shop there was but one) sold every
imaginable thing, from treacle and behring's
to needles and cheese, and the widow who
kept the shop was an autocrst in her way.
She was licensed to sell spirits, and it
would be good for humanity if all licensed
individuals acted on the same firm princi-
pies. To some she positively refused to
sell it at all to others she allowed only
what she considered right for them to have.
She knew the private affairs OF each indi
vidual, and was guided by that l have
seen her refuse "a dram to lanky, shy.
looking shepherd who asked for one, say
ing to him in the tone you might use to an
unreasonable child "Hoot ava, Sandy |;
we can weel your head is nae like ither
heads, and drap will set it spinning. Ma,
ma, man, gang hame, and dinna compare
your head with ithers !" Aud the man
quietly withdrew with look of sheepish
resignation. To another man she said,
Surely, didna hear We rightly it's ma
dram ye're seeking and your wife's sac
sober" (which did not refer to sobriety, as
might be imagined, but to sickliness).
When he showed temper she said, with a
change OF voice that would have suited an
actress, I'm sorry I've no spirit good
enough for you, Mr.. Gran, but you'll get it
at the next shop" which was exactly
eleven miles off With this carefulness for
the welfare of her neighbors she was not at
all above making close bargain, and feel
convinced land my housekeeper never let's
me forget III that paid more than ought
to have done for some bandanas that
bought at her shop.
From this woman, who talked upon all
subjects con amore, | heard great deal
about old Mrs Grant and Jean, and every
thing | heard was to the credit of both.
The old woman had been an excellent
mother to delicate daughter, who died of
broken heart on the sudden death of her
husband. The only grandchild, kenneth
Malcolm" had been brought up by the
grandmother, and, as was often the case in
| Scotland before school boards came in the
way, he had ed a first-rate education,
aud had turned out by all accounts fine
| young fellow, steady and clever.
Mrs Grant had come to Burnside more
than forty years before my first acquains.
auce with the place no one knew why she
had come there, or anything about her an
tecedents. It was supposed that the old
laird was acquainted with her story, but
he had never told it to anyone. He had
requested his nephew AID successor to al.
low her to live out her life rent free, and,
in addition to this, small yearly sum was
paid to her from some unknown source.
She was necessarily busy, and her spinning
and knitting were quite famous. Jean had
| gone to her when she was we'll grown
child of ten, and the relations between
them were more those of mother than of
mistress and servant When she had been
| there two or three years misfortunes began
70 come, and they never come singly.
| Widow Grant fell and hurt herself so much
! that sac did not recover the injury then