Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1882-01-12

of her class. l was delighted, and praised
and sought to encourage her, but
she received my praises inditferently.
Just at this time one day lost gold
pencil that had been given me by a dear dead
friend. asked the scholars if they had
seen it. There was no response, but all OF
them looked at Bridget Ann, who was silent
as usual.
Il valued it." said because my friend
is dead"
AS spoke the tears came into my eyes.
Two days afterwards, the pencil was
mysteriously returned, and Bridget Ann
watched me closer than ever.
Towards the last of my term, received
letter from queer old man in my native
town; old Uncle Piper distant relative of
my fathers.
Miss Mary Ellis:-1 am in want an if
can't git money to pay my rent won't hav
ruff to cover my head an will di in the
field afore going to the poorhouse, I kin
git along if could raze ten dollars to pay
my house rent, for long as Nv got my helth
kin sor wood. I hearn you was teachin',
an you air young an strong an kin earn,
an you won't begrudge money to apoor old
man with one foot in the grave an can't live
long which was your fathers fren.
Mr.. JONATHAN PIPER X his mark
Writ by Miss Spriggins next door to him
for him which was thu him bein' most erful
poor.
There were twenty-five dollars in my
purse. 1t was all the money had, but I
sent twelve of it to the old man, for / felt
that my father would have wished me to.
This lost me my winter cloak, but wore
my shawl and made the best of it. Mypar-
ents had always befriended Uncle Piper;
and when I was child had spent many
happy hours in his tumbledown shauty,
where he lived with lame old cat which,
strange to say, limped exactly as his master
did. Old Tom always followed Uncle Pip
er to his days work, stayed by him. and at
nightfall they returned home together.
Instead of blessings which are supposed
TO FOLLOW gifts to the poor, two weeks after
I had sent the money, Mr.. Bolor, one of
the school committee made me call. He
came into the room, seated himself near
my desk, and informed me before the
school, that she guessed was too unset
tied an onlarned fur the position, and
want able to govern the scholars an keep
up proper respect as tooter for the young,
and they concluded to cut the term short
two weeks, and would pay me weeks. SAL
airy ahead. which would, he added, "be
the square thing; givin' me clean four
dollars without no work nor trouble"
answered him at random, for was con-
fused and was afraid I should burst into
tears before the school. He went away
after informing the scholars that "the term
had been cut short two weeks on account
of dissatisfaction with the teacher who,
want hardly up to what was required in
Greenfield"
1t was Friday afternoon and the scholars
took their books when they left, giving
thrsl OH hnx INy.- fha hi
few OF them said goodby-so few!-and
then l was left alone with the four crum-
pied one dollar bills, the last of my earnings
as teacher. Even Bridget Ann, who was
to some extent the cause of my failure to
find favor with the parents of the children,
left me without farewell glance.
At nineteen, friendless, homeless, with
only sixteen dollars in the world, with my
prospects as a teacher forever lost, can you
wonder that I was respondent and hope
less? knew well no town near Greenfield
would employ me after this experience, and
l had not money enough to enable me to go
to the city to find other employment.
Is it wonder that there in that dreary
room, while the shadows were falling over
the hills. the early twilight shutting in, and
the chill wind shrieking around the corners,
rafting the windows or driving down the
chimney with shuddering signs, dropped
my head on the desk and prayed to die?
How could live? What was there in life
for me?
The little clock licked steadily, monot-
onously, and poor starved little mouse
ran out from under the wood-box and nib
bled at a piece of bread dropped from
scholars dinner basket. I compared my
self to the poor little thing, and my tears
fell faster.
AS sat there heard the sound Of steal
thy footsteps, face that in the gathering
twilight could not recognize peered into
the window. The little mouse vanished
like flash. was not alarmed, was too
miserable.
known ase sRs a0GT sR oa t He
Miss Ellis, it said, with tenderness in the
voice.
yes, Annie" replied, with sob, not
lifting my aching head.
She came and knelt by my side and put
her arm about me, saying passionately,
"My dear, dear teacher!" sobbing and kiss
ing my hands, my dress even. II know
you have lost your place for me, who
want nuthin' but mean, and poor, and
that; and stole your pencil-Oh mel Oh
me! Why was you SO goodr An you're
goin' awayl wish I could die! What
| goin'? No one never was good afore to me.
think you must be one of the angels, or if
| you amt, why want emmy Of the others like
| you? Oh, am sorry! I am sorry!"
| She put her head down and cried SO pit
| fully, yet quietly, that my grief was lost in
| hers, and forgot my sorrow in soothing
| her.
Surely my reward was greater than I had
hoped, and told her SO. told her, too,
| that one of the cruelest wounds had had
in teaching the school was the thought that
she had not appeared to notice or care for
my sympathy and pity for her.
And so two poor, almost hopeless, souls
sat there and talked, she at my feet, her
| head in my lap. Strange that she could
advise me, but she did. She told me of
factory five miles away at Northport, where
| cotton cloth was made; where men, wo-
men and children worked in the great mills
from morning till night in the eternal crash
| and whirr of the ponderous machinery. She
said could find work there, and begged
| me to take her with me, saying she was
| used to hard fare, and could live on almost
| nothing.
This could not promise, but told hsr
| that would come or send for her If found
employment and could support myself.
The next day went away. As passed
| the s'Den Of Thieves" saw Bridget Ann
| at the gate. She waved her tattered hat,
and looking backward, saw her throw her.
self on the ground, burrying her face in the
| grass. That poor little picture was the only
pleasant one that I carried away from
Greenfield.
For six weary, frightful months worked
In the Northport cotton mill. Six months
Of living death. Each day I fancied that
| the hollows in my cheeks were deeper, my
steps weaker, my hands more frail.
In six months more think Ishould have
died but for a letter-a dirty, much post
marked letter-that the postmaster handed
me as was going by. It was from Lawyer
Bliss OF my native place, announcing the
death of Uncle Piper, and the bequest to
| me OF twenty thousand dollars.
He was miser, and had been accumular-
ing this money all his life. Some of it was
invested in western lands, Ind some il.
United States bonds, and more was found
In queer holes and corners in his shanty.
He was an eccentric man, and knowing
that he must soon die and HAVING M love