Year: 1872

Last week woman died, of whom W,
wish to say a word here. 1t does no
matter how or where she died She was .,
obscure, belonged to so common ant
poor a class, that no notice of her deatl
found place in even the cheapest paper
and no one who knew her will read thes,
words. Only one of those thousands Of or
dinary lives that, day by day, end unnoticed
no more missed by the world than 30 many
burned-out candles.


This woman had neither beauty, nor wit
nor large culture she bIought no gift with
her, when she was born, to make her great
ly welcome to the world never could sing
song nor write poem was not even fit.
ted to reign in a drawing room. She was
only sweet-voiced, gentle lady, full Of
womanly affection and eager tenderness,
who had kept her pure childish belief un-
changed to middle age. She was little,
sickly, shabbily clothed; she hvsd in a
tawdry house with glaring paper on the
walls, and torn, dirty mating on the floor
the air she breathed was that Of want and
vulgarity; year in and year out she worked
at machine, sewing dresses for servants
and shop-girls, who bullied her, not un-
reasonably, for she was but poor seam
stress, if the truth must be told Her hus-
band, a coarse grained, gossiping fellow,
tried this trade and that, became a ward
politician, did what he could for his family,
but felt that his wife must do her share.
He had been used to raw-boned, stout
Connecticut farm women, beside whom she
doubtless appeared inefficient enough.


r IL L 4
tured she had been as a girl, and that the
fortune she had brought him he had flung
away, he never did. Nor didehe. They
were wretchedly poor, and it was but Just
and proper she should work So she worked,
stopping now and then to give birth to an
other child, to be nursed at the tired breast,
and watched and prayed over with the
blind, idolatrous devotion she gave to the
others. Certain logical moralists lay down
as axioms that there can be no tragedy
without crime, and that no woman, with
love, husband and children, ought to ask
foe more.


The loud, Dragging politician remained
her hero to the last. If her lie slowly
dried and withered away as a tree might
tapped Of all juices at the root-she
thought it was herself that was to blame
This poor lady was cursed with as finely.
wrought an organization as any favorite oi
fortune both body and mind required
companions of her own caste, and that nu.
triment which nature and art give but tC
few, but which that few must have OF die
Besides, not even the strongest woman car
furnish bread and butter for a house-full Of
children, make their clothes, keep Their
souls pure, and their manners refined, and
add to the number every year. She was not
strong in any sense 50 she stitched, and
nursed and trained them, with the dirty
walls about her. and the torn mating under
foot, and the crowd Of children grew shah
bier and coarser and more vulgar day BY
day.


One day an old accomplishment of hel
girlhood recurred to her-hower-painting
molding in clay, designing does moi
matter what work, however, in which hel
real nature would have found food an ex-
preston, and the pay for which would have
been comparative affiuence. She sent q
specimen Of her work for trial, which was
approved but-men were employed who
had been trained to business. Only the
machine was left, and the work for her
childrens bodies and souls that she could
not do. 1t grew and grew before her sight,
until the day came when she dropped as
under an intolerable burden. As she lay
on the bed day after day, slowly dying,
husband and children were loud in sorrow
and astonishment. Chow had she come
by such manifold diseases Machine work
and want of air 1t was incredible" She
struggled with her work yet, sewed as she
lay on her back, drew her children close to
her with hungry, unsatisied love in her
eyes that they could not understand. But
as the hour came for her to quit the world
that had been 20 niggardly Of its comfort OF
bounty to her, she was beset with restless
fancies, which to her husband seemed
scarcely sane.


"She thinks if she could see and smell
thorny rose that used to grow wild about
the farms down there in Maryland, where
she was born, she would be well again
Now, what good could there be in rose n
He could not see why she would make them
put the children out of the room, and turn
out the gas that she could not see the ma
chine, and 80 lie looking up at the patch Of
sky above the brick walls. When she wa:
dead he cried, 81 did what could am
not to blame And it was true; no mar
can 60 beyond his nature.


What was 70 blame Not poverty moi
the working for bread and butter not the
unequal marriage. Since the world began
King Cophetaus have married beggar girl
untitled, and clothed them royalty in theil
own flames and Titanias have rejoiced t.
worship az ass. But if she had been taught
practically to one occupation, for which hel
taste and ability fitted herr If all womer
were so thoroughly taught such occupationl
that employment ~ould be open to them q
men The answer matters nothing to he
now A day or two ago the worn-out body
was laid back in the earth, to which it has
been drawn by such strong and subtle kin
ship. To what rest or recompense the sou
Of the gentle lady passed, only He know
who took it hence. Her work remains un
finished But it is because there are o.
many thousands of over-worked womel
around US on every side, staring blankly q
their unconquerable work, and lives wastes
at MONDAY, that we have told her stsry
and reverently held back her memory
| for this brief moment-out of the eterna
! silence.