Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1886-10-28
1.-THE BADGE OF SILENCE"

think our grandmother harsh. children
are so petted and spoilt nowadays.
But she was dear, good old lady, and
well it was we fell into her hands when
our sweet young mother died. John,
little Davy and my name was Eliza.
beth, but the boys called me Bess-
went to live in the old home when
| was about ten years old, and do not
! in the least doubt that the next two
years were the very hardest of grand.
| ma life. l know l must have been q
| terrible trial, and how she could have
been as patient, do not see. was
| not only very selfish child, but i'm
| patient and overbearing. would not
| endure the least bit of teasing from
the boys, and yet almost tormented
| the life out of them.
One morning it had been raining
| since breakfast. and we were all three
| in rather a gloomy mood. Grandma
had reproved me more times than can
| remember for speaking i'll a cross, ugly
way, for teasing and aggravating the
boys, and at last with heavy sigh
she said, in solemn tone: 81 see there
is no help for it, Elizabeth; have tried
| every other means; you must wear
The Badge of Silence used it for
| your Uncle John once; he never deed
| ed it again, but it has lain ever since in
my chest of drawers.
| Her tone was so serious, her face so
gloomy and hopeless, could scarcely
| have felt mole shocked or puzzled had
| she proposed using the guillotine.
1.-The Badge of Silencep' What could
| it be. 1t had not killed Uncle John,
| though, for l had seen him only the
| day before, and he looked strong and
| well. My brothers John and Davy
| seemed almost as much impressed by
| grandma's manner as I was, and, like
| myself, were watching her movements
with the keenest anxiety.
Very slowly she crossed the room
as if on some important errand,
| opened the bottom drawer of the chest,
| and after removing several articles
| drew from its depths a vivid red cot
| ton handkerchief; there were bright
| yellow spots all over it, and the thing
was so ugly that I instinctiveIy sbrank
| as she came with it towards me. She
laid it carefully on the table, folded il
from two opposite corners, made a
| bias bandage and placing it under my
| chin, drew the two ends up over my
head and tied them in a secure knot.
"Now," she said, gravely. SIT must be
as though you were dumb; you must
| not speak word under any circum-
stances. Perhaps by giving your
tongue an entire rest it may lose the
habit of speaking in such Il sinful man
| ner. Alas! the tongue is an unruly
| member; you are not to use it again the
whole day. l trust that will prove
sufficient, and that you need not wear
| the badge tomorrow"
| At tlrst l could scarcely believe il
| true, I, Bess, the willful, petted Bess,
standing in the middle of the floor, d
red cotton handkerchief bound about
my face as if afflicted with the tooth
ache, and John and Davy, their sol
emnity all vanished, standing in the
| corner slyly laughing at me. This,
| then, this horrid old handkerchief, was
| the Badge of Silence. In my anger
and indignation almost wished it had
been the guillotine instead, and thai
| my head had been actually cut Off.
opened my lips to ask if 1 might GO to
| my room, but grandma's warning fin
ger reminded me of her hope that the
i badge would not be needed tomorrow,
| and l closed them again She gently
led me to a seat by the window, placed
; glass of water by my side, then re.
turned to her rccking-chair and knit.
ting.
| could see that John was almost
! suffocating with mirth, that his hand
kerchief was stuffed into his mouth
| and that he was shaking all over, but
l pretended not to look at him anC
| turned towards the window, quite. for.
getting that | could be easily seen from
| the village street. Directly my best
| friend, Fannie Lewis, came hurrvino
by under an UNI brella, the rain had al
most ceased now, and, looking up sud
| denly, she came fastening in. Before
| she had reached the room my cheeks
were scarlet and my whole heart in &
| tumult of rebellion. L looked I'D, bu
grandma lifted her finger and 1 die
| not dare move.
''Oh, I'm SO sorry!' exclaimed Fan
ME, bursting into the room; "are 70,
| suffering much, Bess; when did it be
| gin to hurt you?"
But grandma interrupted: Il ann sor
ry, too, dear, it ism t tooth hurting her
but a very bad temper and an unruly
tongue am trying to cure her witt
| the Badge of Silence. She will be GLAD
| to see you another day."
With q perplexed face Fannie re
| tired, and Mortified lest some one els.
might discover me l turned from thl
| window.
Only little later, when the rain hae
quite ceased, Aunt Grace came dash
ing up in her pretty carriage; she haa
| come to take me out to the florist s tw,
miles in the country to buy plants
But no. said grandma very positive
| ly- ''She is wearing the Badge of Sill
| ence; she would hardly like to go witt
it about her head. You remember tn
day your brother John wore it, do yo,
not, Grace?'
| Aunt Grace assented, and there wa
an odd, suspicious look about the cor
ners of her lips, but she fastened away
The dinner-bell rang, and mine wa
brought on tray by a mischievou
listle servant, who giggled outrigl
when she saw me. I did NOT taste
| thing, and sat in sullen silence durin,
the whole afternoon. At last the twi
light came, the boys were playing il
the yard, and quite alone in the dark
ened chamber; I heard their merr,
voices and the low hum of grandma
voice in conversation with a visitor o.
the piazza
Oh, what lonely, desolate place tn
world seemed to mo that night, but
began to think. Why was it-how di
my trouble come-why was I not wit
the boys Laughing away the perfume
| twilight? Alas. I began to realize
was all my own fault. The trouble wa