Year: 1878

BY CHARLES DICKENS.


"When first settled in this village"
said the old gentleman" which is now


Just tive.and.twenty years ago, the most


notorious person among my parishiOners


was a man of the name of Edmunds, VINO


leased a small farm near this spot. He


was a morose, savage.hearted man; idle
and dissolute in his habits; cruel and
ferocious in his Opposition. Beyond the
few lazy and reckless Vagabonds with
whom he sauntered away his time III the
fields or sotted in the ale house, he had
not single friend or acquaintance; no
one cared to speak to the man whom
they feared, and everyone detested--apd
Edmunds was Stunned by all.


"This man had wife and one son,
who, when / first came here was about
twelve years old. OF the acuteness OF
that woman's sufIerings, OF the gentle
and enduring manner in which she bore
them, of the agony OF solicitude with
which she reared that boy, no one can
form an adequate conception. Heaven
forgive me the suppostion, If it be an
uncharitable one, but ! do firmly and in
my soul believe, that lae man systematl'
cally tried for N ny years TO break her
heart; but she Lore 1t all tor her Chi d's
sake, and, however strange it may seem
to many, for his fathers, too ior brute
as he was, and cruelty as he had treated
her, she loved him once; and the rec0l
lection OF what he had been to her,
awakened feelings OF forbearance and
meekness under suffering in her bosom to
which all God creatures, but woman,
are strangers.


"They were poor-they could not be
otherwise when the man pursued such
courses but the wOman's unCeaslng and
unwearied exertions, early and late,
morning, noon and night, kept them
above actual want. These exertons
were but i'll repaid. People who passed
the spot in the evening-sometimes AT a
late hour of the night--reported that
they had heard the moans and sob4 OF a
woman in distress, and the sound of
blows aud more than once, when it was
past midnight, the boy knocked softly at
the door OF neighbor's house, whittier
he had been sent to escape the drunken
fury of his unnatural father.


During the whole Of this time, Snd
when the poor creature often bore about
her marks OF ill-usage and violence which
she could not wholly conceal, she was a
constant attendant at our little church.
Regularly every Sunday, morning and
afternoon. she occupied the same seat
with the boy at her side; and though
they were both poorly dressed-much
more so than many of their neighbors
who were in lower statOn--they were
always neat and clean. Every one had
friendly nod and a kind word for poor
Mrs. Edmunds; and sometimes when
she stopped to exchange a few words with
a neighbOr at the conclusion OF the ser
vice in the little row OF elm trees which
lead to the church porch. or fingered
behind to gaze with a mothers pride and
fondness upon her healthy boy, as he
sported before her with some little com.
paniOns, her care-worn face would
tighten up with an expression OF heartfelt
gratitude and she would look, If not
cheerful and happy, at least tranquil and
contented.


Give or six wears passed away; the
boy had become robust and well-grown
youth. The time that mad strengthened
the child's slight frame and knit his
weak limbs into the strength OF man
hood had bowed his mothers form, and
enfeebled her steps, but the arm That
should have supported her was no longer
locked in hers; the face that should
have cheered her, no more looked upon
her own. She occupied her old seat,
but there was a vacant one beside her.
The bible was kept as carefully as ever,
the places were found and folded down
as they used to be; but there was no
one to read it with her and the tears
fell thick and fast urOn the book, and
blotted the words from her eyes. Neigh
bors were as kind Is they were wont to
be of old, but she Stunned their greetings
with averted head. There was no lin.
gering among the old elm trees now, no
cheering anticipation of happiness yet in
store. The des0late woman drew her
bonnet closer over her face, and walked
hurriedly away.


"Shali I tell you, that the young man,
who, looking back to the earliest of his
childhood's days, to which memory and
consciousness extended. and carrying his
recollection down to that moment, could
remember nothing which was not in
some way connected with long series
Of voluntary privations suffered by his
mother for his sake, with ill.usage, and
insult, and violence, and all endured for
him shall 1 tell you that he, with a
reckless disregard of her breaking heart,
and sullen, wiliul forgetiulness of all
she had done and borne for him, had
linked himself with depraved and aban.
doned men. and was madly pursuing q
headlong career, which must brig death
10 him and s anne to her Alas for
human nature You have anticipated
1t long since.


"Ine measure of the unhappy wom-
ans misery and misfortune was about