Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, May 07, 1857, Image 1

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fffinrsbau fllornitto, Hlnn 7, 1857.
jltltdtb slottrir.
[From the National Era.]
The trailing arbutes or mayflower. grows abundantly
in the vicinity of IMymonth. and was tlie first flower
that greeted the Pilgrims after tneir fearful W inter.
SAP Mayflower! watched by Winter stars,
And nursed by Winter gales,
With petals of the sleeted spars.
And leaves of frozen sails !
What had she in those dreary hours,
Within her iee-rimined bay,
In commou with the wild wood flowers,
The first sweet smiles of May ?
Yet, "God be praised !'' the Pilgrim said,
Who saw the blossoms peer
Above the brown leaves, dry and dead,
" Behold our Mayflower here!"
■" God wills it : here onr rest shall be,
Onr years of wandering o'er,
For us the Mayflower of the Sea
Shall spread her sails no more.''
Oh ! sacred flower of faith and hope 1
As sweetly now as then
Ye bloom on many a birchen slope,
In many a pine-dark glen.
Behind the sea-wall's rugged length.
Unchanged, your leaves unfold,
Like love behind the manly streugth
Of the brave hearts of old.
So live the fathers in their sons,
Their sturdy faith be ours,
And ours the love that overruns
Its Roekv strength with flowers.
The Pilgrim's Wild and wintry day,
Its shadow round us draws ;
The Mayflower of his stormy bay.
Our Freedom's struggling cause.
But warmer sons ere long shall bring
To life the frozen sod ;
And, through dead leaves of hope, shall spring
Afresh the flowers of God! J. G. W.
§ dutch Cab.
" You'll get to Mac's soonest by taking a
•crosscut through Esq. Kendall's lane that runs
close by that great red house ; who's sick over
there V
'• Mr. McLeod himself, the stage-driver told
rue ; X thought he lived on this street, and
therefore did not ask his'direction."
" 1 guess Mac ain't any sicker than liquor
'll make any," said the good natured country
man of whom I had asked my direction. " I'd
advise you, young man, not to waste much
physic on him, you'll get nothing but curses
from him, do what you may."
This dampened somewhat the ardor with
which I had come thus far. It was my first
patient, and there I had been "located" in
the village of Alton for two months in all the
verdant inexperience of hope, in all the unnp
predated importance of my hard earned diplo
ma. I had thought nnseif prepared for tins.
1 knew that in all probability, I should have
to solace myself with " hope deferred," until I
had acquired the prestige of age ; but as the
long summer days wore by, 1 could not repress
impatient yearnings to enter upon those duties
for which J had so laboriously prepared my
self. If the patients who sent so far for Dr.
I)e 15ray, were only H little less patient, and
would send for me, would not I have liked to
cure them ! I was giad of any opening how
ever uncompromising ; so I turned up the de
signated lane, rather slowly, however. I felt
some interest in Esq. Kendall's house, and no
ticed with pleasure the taste displayed around
it ; the vines and flowers so well cared for be
take a refined and cultivated mind. I was
very fond of flowers and cultivated somechoice
varieties about my oflice. I had pleuty of
time for it.
I had heard of Cora Kendall, the beauty of
tiic whole region. I had my dreams too, of
clasping some fair, white hand—looking into
some sweet truthful eyes, and askiugsomedear
girl to share my lot when it had become bright
er. Perhaps it might be Cora ; at any rate I
wished to see her. Suddenly 1 became almost
traii.-fixed with surprise and delight. A young
girl—beautiful as an angel, I reverently
thought—stood iu ft little porch almost over
hanging that green lane, gazing at the summer
sunset, ller face seemed inspired. The part
ed lips, the uplifted eyes, every feature seem
ed radiant with enthusiasm. I was close to
her—the velvet turf gave forth no sound ; but
ju>t then a twig cracked under my horse's foot,
ami she started—looked down—and I caught
gazing at her in such a trance, had recourse to
McLeod's direction. The question seemed
simple enough ; but she stammered and became
to painfully red and confused, that pitying her
embarrassment, I involuntarily averted my
eyes ; they fell upon her hand, which rested
•iu the white trellis of the porch ; and such a
hand ! large, coarse and red ; my eyes could
not believe themselves ; but traveled up the
sleeve of stout gingham to see if that hand
was really an appendage to the face 1 had re
cently almost worshipped. She was still stam
mering out the direction—l was still gazing
at her hand, in .a sort of bewilderment ; when
two other little hands fell upon it, like flakes
uf light, and their owner, looking over the
fclioulder of the first oue, greeted me with a
graceful self possession, and gave the direction
m a few words, adding some witty remark, des
criptive of the man, which set us all laughing,
ami relieved the aw ku ardness of the interview,
tor which I felt very grateful.
"Dear Sis," she said, " was such a timid
•ittlc thing, and saw me near her that she nc
ver would have collected her senses enough to
'ell me anything." " Dear Sis " looked dowu
"... i'Mculy withdrew her baud, which those
lily white fiugers were caressing. The other
seemed to take no notice of this, but put back
her curls with her liberated fiugers, and I turn
ed with regret from her fascinating face, be
sides whose vivacity the first seemed tame and
cold ; for the suuset glory had faded from it
as compietely as from the dim forest toward
which I now turned, deeply pondering whether
I had seen Cora Kendall, it could not be the
last speaker, for, reared in that couutry place,
where would she acquire those bewitching mau
ners, or the taste displayed in the arrange
ment of those clustering curls aud that snowy
dress thin and delicate as a mist floating about
her ? How could a farmer's daughter wear
white at all, in the kitchen or dairy where she
must assist ? for I knew the Kendalls kept no
servants. " Impossible, she must be some la
dy from the city, rusticating, some wealthy
relative from the highest walks of society, and
far above my thoughts." 1 coucluded with a
sigh, which, however did not release said
thoughts. Perhaps the first oue I had seen
was Cora. If she possessed such a soul as
seemed to look forth when I saw her watch
ing the suuset, I was not surprised that she
had led captive so many hearts. Yet there
would be no propriety in saying to her, " Lay
thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me." I
was sure I never could love her, not that I
had decided on employing that particular form
when I should have occasion to make so mo
mentous a request. I tried to convince my
self that it was not because I prized mere
physical delicacy and regularity above the in
dwelling beautiful soul ; but to my shame I
failed here, how else could 1 account for my
So absorbed was I with this knotty ques
tion, that I scarcely noticed a stout boy with
his yoke of oxen dragging a tree with all its
branches, dowu the precipitous road before
me, till I felt myself dashed upon a rock con
siderably below the forest path, here broken
by ledges ; for my horse having just realized
that a tree top was moving along the road
without any visible cause, was startled into a
sudden shy, which took me completely by sur
prise. " I'll not be such a coward to think
I'm killed," said Ito myself. I had thought
so in the first moment of agony.
" Hallo, there, are you hurt ?" said the boy,
coming up with much concern in his counte
" X'o, not much," and I made an effort to
spring up, but everything turned dark, and
faded from my sense.
When I became conscious, the neighbors
had gathered around, and were placing me on
a litter. "We must take him to the nearest
house," said one. " Jenkins' house is the near
est ; but then Jeukins' wife is sick," said au
" We'd better take him up to my house by
nil odds, it's a'most as nigh, and au easier
" I believe I am considerably hurt," I inter
posed ; " can't 1 go to Mr. Kendall's ?"
" Why, yes, that's just what I was saying,"
resumed the last speaker, " you'll better come
uj) by all means, we've got plenty of women
folks to nurse aud tend ye, and you'll need it
one while, if that's where yon fell," he added
with a glance at the rough rock. I scarcely
noticed at the time what followed, but remem
ber afterwards how, when I was carried into
the house, the fair lady in white screamed and
grew so faint that she had to leave the room ;
how the old farmer looked fondly ufter her,
and said, " Cora can't do nothing she's so ten
der-hearted, call Susan how that Susan ap
peared and turned very pale, but after a mo
ment busied herself in washing and binding up
a wound on my head which had covered my
face with blood ; and how, while everybody
commiserated me, and asked me how I felt,
she alone was cold and silent, till I began to
think she did not consider me much hurt, tho'
I wished her valuable mother would follow' her
valuable example ; for the pain I suffered took
away all disposition to answer questions. One
of my limbs was broken, but the surgeon who
hoi been sent for did not reach Alton till the
next day.
Some weeks after my accident, we were all
assembled in the parlor, which indeed, I had
not left since first brought there—" I think
your work very beautiful," I said to Cora, who
was embroidering with worsteds, and whose
fair hands I had long been watching with a
sort of idle pleasure, as they moved about their
graceful task, and thinking how much I should
like to clasp—to kiss one of those beautiful
dimpled hands. " You do this so skillfully,
that I thir.k you must have employed yourself
often in this way before."
" Yes, I have embroidered considerably, 1
aui very fond of it," said the young lady.
" Then I hoje you will sometime give me
the pleasure of seeing the former triumphs of
your needle."
" Oh, certainly, since you arc so kind as to
take an interest in my poor efforts, you shall
see them now," she replied with a ready, yet
modest acquiescence, which contrasted favor
ably with the manner of those yo'ung ladies
who have to be entreated by the hour for a
sketch or song of which they are secretly vain
all the time. " Susan, dear," she continued,
" you know where they are, you have beeu
revolutionizing our chamber so that 1 never
could find them if I were to try."
" I put them in you? dravter, said Susan,
without raising her eyes.
" Ah, but—it is far. and you are nearest
the stairs, so be my little page this once,' said
Cora, sportively, with such sweet entreaty in
her eyes, that i longed to be her page. Ter
hajis it had some influence on Susan, for she
laid down her work good hmnoredly, and
brought the embroideries.
" And now show us yours, Susan," I said
when these had been sufficiently admired ;
" have you not executed some ot this needle
painting ?"
" I have none," she said.
" You surprise me, I don't sec how yon can
resist the temptation of doing some of this
beautiful work, when yon sec the leaves and
blowout? growing uuJer your sister"u finger,-."
" Indeed, I should like it, but I never find
" I should think yon did try once ; it al
most makes me die with laughing, now, to
think what a piece of work you made of it,"
cried Cora.
" That was hardly a fair trial," replied her
sister coloring, " since I used stocking yarn in
stead of worsted ; for you remember Cora,
that you were afraid you should not have
worsted enough to finish your flower piece, if
I wasted any ; yet my best efforts would ne
ver compare with Cora's," she added, turning
to me, " for I have not the talent for such
things, which she has."
" I think Susau's talents, seem to distinguish
themselves more in her present line of occupa
tion than any other ; I must confess I don't
know what dear papa would do for clothes
without her ; for such coarse work makes my
fingers bleed, if ever 1 try to do it."
1 wondered within myself if Kature was a
thoroughly democratic institution—if she had
not made some patricians. How naturally the
manners &ud occupations of a lady seemed to
belong to this elegant creature ; while her sis
ter did not seek to go beyond the homely ne
cessities of life. Very useful this latter class,
but not so agreeable or ornamental.
The silence was broken by Susan, who said,
as she glanced from the window, " That is a
tine carriage for this place."
" Uli, it must be the new merchant, Mr. De
Bent," cried Cora, with animatiOu, springing
from her chair to the window, the large easy
cbuir rocking back heavily against my helpless
foot ; Susan hastened to draw it away before
it rocked back again, while tears started in
her eyes at the groan of juiu which I could
not repress. "Oh ! how cruel that was Of j
me ! how careless !" cried Coru, " how cau I j
ever forgive myself !" Aud the sweet girl j
took both my hands, impulsively, between her's,
as if she would thus take upon herself the pain
she had unintentionally caused. Good, kind
hearted Susau, I did not need your tears. I
felt more than repaid by the momentary pang,
by the earliest pressure of those fair huuds.
The kitchen, where the cooking and dairy
work of the farm house was done, was built at
right angles with the room where 1 lay ; aud
it thus happened, the windows of both rooms
being open one sultry morning, that I became
the unwilling listener to a dialogue, which gave
me some new ideas with regard to the two
young girls of whom I had already seen so
much and as I uow found, kuew to little.
" 1 wish, Cora, dear, you would go in and
sit by Dr. Jeuuc, you can take your book right
ulong ; I want to finish up these dishes before
mother comes in, for she ought not to do so
much hard work this wurin weather."
" 1 indeed !" answered the other, who must
have been Cora,though her voice seemed to lack
its usual sweetness, " do you expect me to go
in there with this ragged dress, and my hair
all iu strings ? 1 expect you will ask me to
wash up the greasy dishes next !"
" .No, Cora, 1 am too proud of your pretty
hands myself, to be williug you should spoil j
them so, and 1 don't want you to go, either. |
I did not think of your' dishabille,' I will leave
the dishes."
" Let him lie alone awhile, it won't hurt
him, sulky aud cross as he is sometimes."
" O Cora, how cau you say so ? lie is ne
ver cross, and if his spirits are low sometimes,
it is not strange that an active, energetic
young man, as 1 think he is naturally, should
find it hard to lie helpless whole weeks and
My face glowed with shame ; I had been
impatient, but it was towards her who uow
generously defended me—never, O, reverend
and queenly Cora, to thee. But a light step
had entered my room, and I met the bine eyes
still tender with the compassion which had ani
mated her last words.
" I shall want nothing before noon, my kind
little nurse, except a glass of fresh water, you
have brought. Perhaps I can sleep, I did not
rest much last night." As I spoke 1 could
not help thinking how pretty she looked with
her smooth brown hair and gingham dress,
contrasted with the figure which her sister's
words had described:
" A little household goddess she,
That witehetli all tor good,"
I tliGHght, as 1 heard her all through the
morning hours, tripping about her work, aud
singing blithely, the persect embodiment of
cheerful industry. I began to hate a dim idea
that nature had made something superior to
the patrician order; after all C'ora did not
occupy so prominent a place as usual, in my
" So you and Cora want some new dresses?"
said Mr. Kendall to h s daughter, one eTening;
as he laid down his paper and took her fondly
on his knee. " Why, father, do you think we
look shabby ?" " No, I shouldn't know the
difference if you were dressed in tow cloth, as
your grandmother used to be ; but Cora says
she can't go to church again, till she has a uew
dress ; so I suppose you can't either—what
will they cost, and what will niy tiiisy wear ?
scarlet, greeu or yellow ?"
" All at a time, if yon like them, father.—
But I have seen some delicate blue bareges at
De Font's, which I think would be pretty for
us ; such a dress would cost four dollars ; if
you can spare the money, I should really like
to have one."
" Well, that won't break me ; there's four
for each of you ; 1 waut my ehildreu to have
clothes lit to go to church," he added mischie
vously, as his daughter lettthe room. "She's
a good girl, quite as good as Cora, though, as
her mother says, she'll never make uo show."
" It is quite natural," I answered, " that a
mother should be proud of Cora's rare beauty
aud accomplishments, but tSnsau is quite as
lovely, though she does not know it ; and I
eertaiuly never saw a temper so sweet and even
under all circumstances, as her's."
" Well, I'm glad you've found it out," said
the farmer heartily, " for tt seems to me as if
nobody knew how good, nor how handsome
neither—though that ar'sa small matter—Su
san is, while everybody praises Cora."
I'or :everu! dfys after that, I oaw the sis-
ters employed on a delicate bltle material,
which I thought must have cost more than the
sum Busan had mentioned. She still sat up
and worked after the family had retired on
Saturday night. " I will take my work iuto
another room now, so that you may sleep,"
she said. " No, sit here ; Ido not sleep half
the night, from being so idle through the day.
and I should like your company. I anticipate
the pleasure of seeing you come out in that
beautiful dress to-morrow ; I am sure it will
become you."
" Oh, no, I have no new dress, this is my
sister's," she said, with a shade passing over
her face. "Why, 1 thought you both had
dresses like this 1" " There was not money
enough to get two dresses of this kind, and
Cora, who has more taste than I, says light
blue is only becoming to very fair blondes, and
I was afraid the dress I wanted would not suit
my appearauce, so I concluded not to get one."
" Why, dear girl, what are you but a blonde?
If your cheeks are more rosy, and your hair
darker than your sister's, it does not make you
any less fair or beautiful."
'' O, there you are wrong," the said earnest
ly, yet blushing as she spoke, "everybody
knows that Cora is much handsomer, and that
is another reason why she ought to have this
dress though I can have none, for everybody
will look at her while no one notices how I am
" Then I cannot agree with everybody, thou
naivest of reasoners."
Hours flew by : the great kitchen clock struck
eleven. "I'm afraid, Susie, your eyes will be
dim in the morning. I would let Cora set up
to finish her own dress, another time."
" That she would have done, but she cannot
gage and set on the robe, which is what I am
doing now."
" Then she is not so skilled at ueedle-work as
you t"
" She 1* more skilled than I, only she has
never tried—l menu she has uever learned do
this particular thing. One cannot be expect
ed to do anything well, without practice you
kuow, and I have hiid plenty of that, for I
have gaged her dresses and mother's for sev
eral years ; it would be ilupardouuble if I should
not excel her, when she iias only tried a few
" And failed ?"
" Partiality so, her work was net quite right;
it could uot be expected till she leah'ed how,
you know."
" She has an elegant defender, yet there was
no excuse for you, no encouragement iu yfur
first attempt at embroidery !" I ventured iu a
low tone. A momentary change of her trans
parent countenance showed how keenly she
had felt her sister's slighting manner on that
occasion ; but she replied with a dignity which
I never could have expected from her—
"lf she is sometimes inconsiderate, person
like Cora can well afford to have some faults."
" I entreat your forgiveness ; so noble an
answer shames me ; pray forget my idle words
it is the first time, Susan."
" Then let it be the last my friend." she said
smiling kindly again, as she folded away the
completed dress.
As I watched day after day, the dispositions i
of these two fair sisters, acted out iu the ten
thousand minutia which make up human bap
piuess or misery, I began to long for the love
of that noble, self-forgetting heart, whose con
stant object was to make every hour and every
moment pass pleasantly to those around. But
she, as 1 grew to ueed less of her care, grad-1
ually withdrew herself more and more, from
the room where I lay, sendiug her mother,
who could talk of nothing but Cora, to set by
me, while she took her place in the kitcheu.—
If she was ever left aloue with me she would
go and bring some one in, immediately, with a
plausible excuse, noticed ouly by the sadly keen
sense of jealousy ; all the while*she was kind
to me with a quiet Sisterly kindness. Iluving
no ehauce by uctive exertion to divert or sbake
off my unhappy thoughts they preyed upon
me until I grew actually sick—sick with a
malftdy fdr which my books prescribed no
" Whv, Doctor, ybu'fre worse this mofuing ;
your couutenauce looks very bad, I'm concern
ed about you," suid my hostess, as she was
pessing through the parlor one morning. "It
is the effect of a severe headache and sleepless
night, which has awakened your concern ; I
tkiuk it will soon pass off," 1 said, while throb
bing pain increased, aud 1 asked my exacting
heart why Susan, who was quietly arranging
the room, had not noticed how ill I was. But
her mother said, "Su.-an, why don't you mag
netize his beud '( You always ease my head
ache, and put tne to sleep." "I will try," she
answered as she laid her duster in the closet,
and came forward. "I did not kuow that you
possessed the mesmeric power !" "I do not
claim to," was the answer. "I stipposc it is
the chafing which eases pain. They say oue
must close his eyes if he wishes to be put to
sleep," she added in a tone which was neither
cold uor kind, as she seuted herself Ou the edge
of the couch. Why would she not bear a mo
ment the eyes that worshipped her ? I longed
to close down the crushing lids upon my agon
ized thoughts, also ; but slowly they changed
uuder that kind touch. 1 felt—l could not
deuy that it was earnestly kind, no mere me
chanical manipulation. And then it was such
a novelty that she should touch mc at all,
I could uot remember that she had ever done
it before, eveu to shake hands ; I forgot the
pain euttrely.
" He's fast asleep, Susan, you needn't work
any longer, I want you to help me fix my hair,"
I heard Cora say as she came iuto the room.
"O hush, wait a little while, I want he should
sleep soundly first ; don't you see how ill he
looks ?" "Well if you wou'tdo it, mother will,'
said Cora, shuttiug the door uot very geutly,
while my good angel patiently strove to charm
away my pain, and I dared uot let her kuow
that I was awake, after what I had so malap
propriately heard. Soon she cautiously dts
; continued her chafing, and rose to go, theu
restiug her arm on the pillow beyond my head,
| she bent over and pressed her fresh, young
cheek fondly upou my forehead ; another mo
meut she had left me, but never, dear heart of
love, has that hnppiuess left me, couferred by
that mute caress. Even uow I seem to feel
again thejoy that flooded my whole being
thrilling tomy finger ends ; my thoughts re
hearsed, anduever wearied of rehearsing the
miuutest circumstance, even the cool touch of
her braidedhair, damp from the morning bath.
My blissful reveries gradually lost themselves in
refreshing sleep, and when I awoke Cora came
to sit beside me. Cora was un excellent read
er, aud a sweet and accomplished singer, and
many weary hours had been shortened by her
kindness, though I had lately come to feel
that it was the cruel kindness, of a coquette,
constantly seeking the triumph of winning what
she would not trouble herself to wear ; and
now as she combed my hair, and rolled it into
curls with "her fiugers small aud fair," 1 felt as j
if that soft touch lacked something. I seemed
to see the cold deceit iu those blue eyes, I could j
not admire the glossy, golden curls that swept i
my pillow ; while she read Lalluh Rookh, I
listeued for the homely, Monday sounds of
rubbing, pouudiug and rinsiDg clothes, from
the kitchen, where I knew a dear, true heart
directed willing hands.
I had no proof that Susan loved me ; her
compassionate nature would have dictated all
the kindness I had received but she had pitied
—she did not despise me ; and this certainty
with the sweet consciousness of returning health
raised my spirits to their usual level of youth
aud hope.
A few days after this—what shall I call it ?
—reversing of iuy life, Mr. Kendall came home
from the village, with the news that Miss
Denyah had returned and would re open her
school for young ladies on the first of iSeptem- i
" Oli ! I should delight to go to school there
again," cried Cora with enthusiasm ; "Shall I
go, dear papa ?"
" Why, I was tbiuking," he said, "as you
have been much already, and Susan never
has had a chance at schooling, since she
was a little girl, she ought to go now, and
you take her place, and help your mother."
" La, suz ! Cora couldn't do anything to
help tue, she aiu't strong enough. It would
make her sick, to take hold of the heft of the
work," said Mrs. Kendall.
"Then we must hire a girl ; for Susan shall
go to school, that's fixed—if she wants to ; hey
Susey ?"
"I do want to very much father and the
gratified look which lighted her sweet, earnest
face, showed, more than words, the interest she
felt. But her mother was not satisfied.
" If Susan was a rich man's daughter, and
goitig into company all her life, it might be
worth while ; but as 'tis it does seem waste of
time to be hunting up stones and weeds, and
learning hard names for them ; besides, if Su
san learns all the highflown things Miss l)en
yali teaches, she wouldu't be a bit different.—
You'd never know by her ways she knew any
thing more than common folks." 9
" But education is a great thing, wife we
that never had much can't judge about it."
" I know," she replied, "folks arc thought
more on for being educated, and I'd be glad
Susan should have her way, if 'twarn't for
the work. Now Cora could be spared just as
well as not, she has a natural turn that way,
" As for the work," answered Mr. K., "you
shall have pleiity of help, so Susy, see that
you are all ready to go by September."
Mrs. K , evidently had her own thoughts
with regard to help, but she did not express
them, and the subject seemed settled.
" Well, Susan, I should think you meant to
do up the family sewing for at leaft teu years
to come," said Cora, one sultry day, about
three weeks after the conversation above re
corded, as she leaned back in her rocking
chair, and surveyed the pile of shirts her sister
was cutting out. "Papa won't want any shirk?
till next summer, if he does then—and the
piles of towels, sheets and pillow slips—Susan,"
added the lively girl, suddenly interrupting
herself, "a thought has struck me. Are you
going to perpetrate matrimony, and housekeep
ing immediately ?"
" Not exactly," was the laughing answer;
"but I make these things because I've nothing
else to do now."
" Why, then I'd treat myself to a little leis
ure ; what's become of your penchant fc'r her
mit walks? You havu't beeu to the pine
woods for near a month."
" It's too warm to-duy, I should be melted
before I reached them."
Nevertheless, the work stopped, while she
cast one long Took at the cool depths and shad
ows of that magnificicnt forest, which i had
watched yearningly through many a sultry
" Well, yon might read the last Harper ;
that story of Lettice Arnold that interested
you so much, is concluded. T should like to
take it over to Lou Ilerriek, after tea."
" Nefer mind me. I don't care about reading
this number ; she will have time to tinish it be
fore I shall want it."
And thus it was for weeks. Susan redoub
led her usual industry, hardly allowing herself
time to eat. I began tt>' feel professionally anx
ious about her health, as early and late she
plied the Swift ueedle, or flitted about her
household task, often with playful force driving
her industrious mother from the kitchen ; but
her eyes grew brighter, her rose cheeks fresher
and her step more elastic than ever. Ah !
there was a power which I had not taken into
my estimate of the forces of nature—enthu
siasm, which none could expect uudcr the calm
demeanor ; the pleasure with which she looked
forward to the opportunity for study aud im
provement, made heavy labor light to her. It
seemed as if the utmost hope of her life was
about to be realized, aud she thought nothing
too hard to do for those who might sufl\r in
convenience from her approaching absence.
" I saw Bccman to-day," said Mr. Kendall
at tea, "and he says he'll have a gang of bauds
here to cover my new baru by the 29th. 1
told him I couldn't have the frame exposed to
the weather any longer ; wheu that's done, I
i want the Ksst barn shingled over, and other
VOL. XV II. —NO. 48.
little jobs 'tended to, so we shall hare the car
penters here a'most all the full."
Mrs. Kendall sighed heardy ; she was not
strong, apd moreover, had a special headache
that day. Susau looked at her with tender
" If Susan wasn't going away 'twould be
| different, but I don't see how I can possibly
get along and the work for them."
" Why, Susan ain't the only person in the
world that can wash dishes and cook." I'd
get you a girl before they come. Miss Iler
rick says we can hire Mittv Diogwcll, that
helped while she was sick. I'll go and bespeuk
her to-morrow.
" Mittv Ding web, indeed ; I wouldn't have
! her round the house tor her weight in gold. I
! don't see how Miss Derrick could put up with
' her dirty ways. Why, I saw her with uiy own
eyes washing the caudle-sticks with the dish
Thus with unwonted energy spake Mrs. K.;
who was a pink, I had almost said "thorn," of
neatness in her domestic affairs. "1 made np
my inind when Irish Norah was here, that I
never would have another hired girl in my
house, nor I won't, so long as J can put one
foot before the other. I can drag through
the work some way or other," she added with
a weary sigh.
" That you shall not, mother ; 111 stay at.
home," cried Susan, who had several times
opened her mouth to speak, during the last
few moments.
" No, you needn't Susan, I wouldn't have
yon give up your school when you have been
reckoning so much on it, though I don't know as
hard work is anything to be reckoned ou."
"That's nothing mother, I shall be happier
at home, after ail, perhaps, you know I never
was away, and I might get very homesick, and
wretched, staying away uiuoug strangers four
" Let your mother do the work alone if she
will have it so, you needn't stay at home, said
Mr. Kendall moved beyond his wont.
"Dear father, I'd rather stay," she answered
in a low, constrained tone, with her hand up
ou the door, through which she immediately
passed—could none of them guess why ?
" I wish you warn't so particular, wife, it's
a pity Susan has to give up everything she
likes "
" I don't think Susan cares very much
about going to school, she has said very little
about it," remarked Cora, indifferently.
" You heard her say she'd rather stay
said the mother.
And so the sacrifice was accepted, without a
word of thanks, without the slightest appre
ciation of the generous deception which con
cealed her bitter disappointment. Thus end
ed her weeks of hopeful, nnnoticcd toil! Dear
girl ! how my heart yearned to follow her, to
tell her how noble and disinterested, how an
gel kind she was. I watched impatiently, fur
her re-appcarauce in the morning. How
could they help noticing through her assumed
cheerfulness, the shadow in her eyes, and the
tone to her voice, which told so touchingly of
secret tears. She had sacrificed not only her
pleasure or ease, but her mind—the opportuni
ty of mental development—to serve those she
loved. Were they worthy of it ?" Did they
deserve that such wealth of devotion should
be poured out for them, the unappreciative,
who seemed wholly unconscious that they had
received any favor, who returned for her rich
love not even a caress.
She and her father sal in the front room
with me, and I had been saying that I wus so
nearly recovered that I should soon cease tot
tax the hospitality and kindness for which I
never could feel sufficiently grateful ; and he
had replied in his kind hearty way, that they
should be really lonesome, it would stem like
missing one of the family to have me gone, yet
he was heartily glad that I was "picking up"
so well. Susan leaned lower over her work
and was silent.
" What d ) you say, Susy ? ain't yon glod
the Doctor is so near well said her father,
turning suddenly. She seemd startled, made
| an eil'ort to speak, but burst into tears, and
i hurried from the room.
i "It seems like she was sorry you ever got
weli," he said, but his honest face beiied his
jesting words, as he looked anxiously after his
child, and then with earnest, almost stern scru
tiny, searched my conutenance, to sec what ef
fect her emotion had upon me.
It was an opportunity," and I told him all,
and aaked permission to woo his daughter.—
When 1 should be able to provide a home for
" I'm glad you like her. I'm heartily glad
on't," he said, "there's nobody I'd rather have
for a son-in law ; I made up my mind about
you, Dr. Jeuue, long enough before I knew
who you was. Last spring, when I was team
in' on it down to town, I used to pas 3 through
the village midulin'early, and when I always
raw you at work afore sunrise, (though you
was only raisin' useless posies) I said to myself
that you was a right smart, industrious chap,
and bound to make a livin' ; that's why I
warn't afraid to trust Susy to you, though she's
a young thing, not eighteen till Christmas.—
You spoke about waiti..' ; but business comes
slow to a young doctor, and if you set so much
by her, it'll be lonesome waitin,' and lonesome
for her too, poor girl ! for I reckou she loves
you already."
" Indeed, I begin to hope so but I cannot
nsk her to leave a happy home, while I have
none at all to offer her."
"We'll talk about that." he answered.—
"While you're single, yon have to pay your
1 board and pay pretty highly too, as prices are
going. You pay office r nt", keep your horse
at the livery stable, and hire all your washing,
making and mending done. Now if you had
a little place just big enough to pasture your
horse, and may be a cow, and house with your
office in one ci' the front rooms, you'd find it
would not take so much momy for two,.as it
docs now for one.
" Hut., dear friend, you forget I havn't the
little place ; would to Heaven I had "
" I was going to say if you hadn't, stopped
mo-, that if you liked the plan, I'd give tuaao