The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1885-06-24
THE MI-WEE MINER.
BUTTE, JUNE "a. 1885.
BRITTA's STORY.

BRITTAS STORY.
BY MRS. ]. D. CHAPLIN.
Ayoung, bright looking girl from Sweden
with q small package in her hand, stood be
fore q lady courtesying and smiling.
'The Swede pastor sends you me, she
said. II say he send me more al SOM
other girl, cause I clean and lovely fol
w0rks-and-and"
"And what else did he say?"
"And for cause I such q glad girl. In
Brendeberg, my home, where lives Mr.. Jan
sens fader, the peoples all call me sBritta
the Glad"
"Was this all?'' ri.
mo; he say he sends me, for cause Ibeen
speaks such lovely English, like been here
six months; I been but only three, and
many Swede say they think I been horned
in 'Merica, such English l has!"
GLOW soon could you come to me,
Britta?" said the lady, smiling at the girls
innocence.
II is coined now! !" cried Britta, holding up
the little package, and adding, Here been
my work, gown and apron, and slipper, Tor
walk easy and soft in lady house."
In ~twenty-four hours Britta was at home
in her duties n maid-of-all-work in the
lady's house. The days wore on, and her
smile never faded before cinders or dust, or
soap suds.
When her first Monday came the clothes
line broke, letting the moist clothes down
on the sandy bricks; and she was heard to
remark to herself, ut been good thing that
sand wash out more as paint"
Company came unexpectedly one day
when dinner was over. When she was
about getting another meal, Britta re-
marked, with q smile, ut been good God
give vi more as is all eat by. selves,
then strange one not 60 hungry"
Such serenity of temper and more than
willing service led the mistress to remark
that the angels were not all in heaven!
Britta, as she went from room to room.
saw tokens Of a little boys presence, but
no boy. Connecting this fact with the sable
garb and the sad face of her mistress, she
said to her one day; in q tender tone and
in q respectful manner. II think you have
been give some little boy to God?"
The lady told her Of the loss by death of
her only son, and of his long sickness.
"Ah! / hope you been glad for that" said
Britta, clasping her hands and raising her
eyes.
"Glad!" exclaimed her mistress, in sur
prise. "How could l be glad?"
II mean l hope you been satisfy
mo; not glad or satisfied, Britta. l
think, perhaps, you have never had any
trouble, or you could not talk in that way"
said her mistress.
The first shadow she had seen there now
iell over the girls face, and ~clasping her
hands on her heart, she said: "Ah, l been
many troubles. l been has one big one on
my heart now, but my fader up there help
me, and keep me all times glad"
Craving sympathy from even the lowest
rustlinR heart, the lady drew out this story
OF Britta's life:
"Near, close to my home, runs my river.
My dea, looving fader been long years sick
with cripples, that never let's him walk. He
makes little brooms of small sticks, for
beat eggs and stir things. Ny moder much
such and not work hard, but knits all time.
/ cook, and wash, and makes garden"
"Once every month I goes to big town to
sell small broom and knit t~hings-mitten,
and stocking aad shawl. InsummerI walks
on road over loovely green fields? In win
ter, l skates there on my dear river. l sells
all, and brings back fish and meak, and
little tea and sugar, and white meal for my
dears.
"Ah! ali! One day my fader 1 SO looves
been die when l gets home. My heart say
first it 60 break. But 1 members he been
say so many time, For what you keep me
here Lord? l wants 60 home up there!' So
xk1VC6 IT'LL W UOu I'LL L U6Cu kAAu CvSI
after-so glad God got him safe!
"Then / must work more hard. I goes |
to farmer and works in field all day, and
when night comes l 60 to his house and /
scrub floors till bed times. Then, farmer
wife let me 60 home, one mile, for sleep
with my moder and take care for her.
when four O'Clock morning come, /
make moder some tea, and make good her
bed, and goes of to farmer, and hoe and
dig and rake all long day. See how my |
fingers bended-never come right from hard |
work.
'In winters when no work in field, then l |
spins, spins, spins. After I feeds cows and
milks, farmer wife let me take wool home |
and spins by my modder. At night I goes |
back and feeds cows and milks more lore l |
goes to bed in my little house.
"Ah! Iso glad when l can stay night |
with my small, dear moder, and not leaves
her lone; for she been more sick since fader |
go from her, and lie much times in bed
now"
But Britta, how could you leave her to
come to American" asked the lady.
II fraid you think me fool if l been told
you all things"
mo, 1 want to know how you can
always be so good, with a mother SO sick
and SO poor, far from you."
The roses mounted to her cheek as Britta |
replied, 81 been got q friend all my life; |
name Knud Knedesen. He SO dear and |
good! He, too, had old moder and grand |
moder, and he work, work SO much for |
takes care of them!
"But sometimes they have die and 20
home to God up high. Then been all lone |
in his small house when he comes home |
from his work in field"
Had he no wife?" asked the lady.
NHo Init nn1v fwonfvv oort Rrf 7 hoor l
promise him long time I will been his wife
when he been rich and can marry. He can
not leave moder and grandmother and live
with me in my small house when they lives;
and now they dead, l will not leave my
dear moder to live in his small house. Oh,
9 10 small those two house!''
swell, if you had Knud to leave, as well
az your mother, how could you come to
America ?" asked her mistress.
II tells you, ma'am. Myfarmer-so kind
to me-always give me one day in one
month for 60 to town and tell my moder's
knis, and get medicine and tea and white
meal for her.
Zone night, eight months gone, I comes
home skating or river, 50 glad that I been
sing all the way from town. l meet mans
on river carrying dead Sleeps to town on
their backs for sell, and they says to me,
I hear you sing long way, Britta the
Glad"
II think'no trouble anywhere for me. 1
got my little moder and Knud; and God
get my fader dear; and on my head in
basket is all good things to comfort us and
dear moder smiles and says, Good
"Near my little house my riuer turns
round SO way" she continued, crooking her
elbow to show it's course. ::'While l sings 1
turns round my rivers elbow; and ali, l
sees fire and smoke!"
II throws way basket and all things,
and flies like my skates been WINGS"
my little house blaze! I runs in and
wraps little moder in blankets, and brings
her out in arms, and sees dear little house
my fader built with own hands all burn up.
and bed, and all my moder weaves,
burn too. But l so glad, that I says, Burn
now! !got my little moder safe to my
Then I fears she gets cold, and I calls
or some good neighbor come and take her
n his house. But Carlson Peterson and
gone OF, and widow Marie Wisberger
rscH in bod