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For Woman’s Work.
THE MAID ACROSS THE LEA.
There’s a story I must tell you
As it was told to me,
About a lovely maiden
Who lived across the lea.
There’s a cot that stands upon the hill,
The flowers bloom before it,
And every stranger, passing,
Notes the vines that clamber o’er it.
A lady pale, dwells here alone—l l
She’s old now, sad and weary—.
And waits she, but for death to come
And end her life, so dreary.
There was a time when she was young
And gay, like other girls;
Whea soft the breezes kissed her cheek
And played among her curls.
There was a time—so long ago!
When cupid, with his dart
So cruel —yet withal so sweet,
Did pierce this maiden's heart.
There was a gay young hunter,
And it chanced that every day,
He came, with gun, and fishing rod,
To pass her, on his way
To where the brook went dashing
Adown the mountain sidej;
Then wandered on, in lazy grace,
To the river—deep and wide.
One day—ah! sad the story—
This hunter, brave and bold,
Said in his heart: “I’ll woo this maid,
With hair like shining gold.”
So often, when the moon’s pale ray
Did fall athwart the leas,
He hastened to the little cot
That nestled ’neath the trees.
And many a day afar they roamed,
Thro’ forest and o'er hill;
And rested ’neath the vines that grew
Beside the rippling rill.
Full well she loved this hunter, bold,
And to him gave her heart;
Nor dreamed she of the coming day
In which they’d have to part.
Too soon, he wearied of this maid,
With eyes so heavenly blue;
Nor cared he for the pain he gave
Her young heart, pure and true.
One morn he came and slowly said—
“l must leave you on the morrow,
For a letter’s here that calls me home—
But sweet maid, do not sorrow.”
He said : “Good-bye, sweetheart, good bye,
1 will be true to thee —
This summer, past, has been so sweet!
And you—you’ll think of me ?”
She saw him go—nor knew she then
This heart she did adore,
Would never claim her for his bride
Nor love her, evermore.
■tars were long; no letter e.ime
Brijfc'ii her lone life—
love and joy
ll ' 1 ’ hours "ere rife.
she thought her waiting done,
A letter she read o’er.
And in it —ah. poor breaking heart !
He said : he’d come no more.
That ere his letter left his home,
And ere it reached her side
He would lead unto the altar
A rich and beauteous bride.
She gave no sigh. Her breaking heart
Made not a single moan :
Altho’ she knew that from her life
Love’s joyousness had flown.
And deep within her bosom cold,
She buried—that sad night—
Her grief; but when the morning broke
Her locks were silvery white.
One day a stranger passing,
—A lady, fair to see —
Went in to beg a silver curl
Os this maid, across the lea.
And here it tells its story,
This curl within my hand,
Just one, among the many
Cut from the silvered strand.
The cot still stands beside the stream
The flowers bloom as yore,
And anyone in passing, sees,
Within its vine-clad door,
A white haired woman, old and bent,
—No longer young, is she—
But always kind, and ever known
As “the maid across the lea.”
Door heart! within my bosom burns,
A feeling wondrous kind,
For sorrows deep, and blighted love
So pure and deep as thine.
And often, when I see this curl,
My “Fancy” roams so free,
To the little cot beside the stream
And the maid across the lea.
Not long, this life can claim thee here;
Not long, thy feet will stray
Among the flowers, for God will call
Thee to His home—some day.
Carrie belle Gable.
We see a sorrow, rising in our way,
And try to flee from the approaching ill
We seek some small escape ; we weep and pray;
But when the blow tails, then our hearts
are still;
Not that the pain is of its sharpness shorn,
But that it can be borne.
Can wealth give happiness? look around and
see
What gay distress! what splendid misery!
Whatever fortune lavishly can pour
The mind annihilates, and calls for more.
Mr. J. C. Weaver, Macon, Ga., says:
IJconsider Bradycrotine the only remedy
that I have ever found that would give
rompt and sure relief to headache.
For Woman’s Work.
A LIFE STORY.
(Continued from First Page.)
look on her face it struck me at once, there
was another blow in store for me.
‘Mr. McDonald, I am so sorry for you,
but your friends are gone; they departed
suddenly last night, and left this with me
for you.’
“I took the note from her, and, thanking
her, turned and walked out of the house.
“The blows were falling thick and fast
now.
“I reached my hotel, and room, but don’t
knowhow. I remembered nothing more,
till I found myself in my room with the
open letter before me—
Dear Rob:—We are going far from you.
Don’t seek me, for it will do no good. Forget
me, for we can never be anything to each
other again. As for me, I will love you al
ways, but will never see you.
Good-bye forever,
Elsie.
“I sat and looked at it for a long time,
and when father came in, I was still hold
ing the letter before me and laughing. I
knew nothing more for weeks; and when I
was strong enough to travel again, we
started to hunt Hugh Kinnie, but could
find no trace either of him or the Graham’s;
so we came home again, and I took up the
profession for which I had been educated.
“Five years went by, and still no word
from Elsie. In the time, father had died,
and I was alone. One evening, while at
my lonely dinner, I heard a ring at the
door bell; the servant, who answered the
bell, brought me a card which made me
leave my dinner at once. Entering the
parlor I clasped the hand of Mr. Graham
once more.
‘“Rob, have you forgiven us yet? Have
patience with me a little and I will make
it all plain to you. The last time you saw
Elsie, Hugh had managed to see her while
I was out, and he made her go down on
her knees and swear that she would not
try to set the marriage aside; and that she
would never see you again. If she did not
accede to his demands he would kill you.
He so wrought on her, that she took the
oath; when she told me of it, I thought it
best to go away with her, for he would
keep his word’ if we did not. We could
not bear to keep you always with the sword
of Damocles hanging over your head.
About a year ago, she contracted a heavy
cold, and consumption set in.
‘Last week we received word of Hugh’s
death, and, as we were in England, she
begged so hard to be brought here to die,
that we brought her. She has a fancy that
she would like to die in the room your
mother died in.’
“The tears were pouring down my face,
but I could say nothing. I hurriedly left
the room and gave orders that my mother’s
room should be prepared for a sick guest.
Then I went with Mr. Graham to the hotel.
‘■l cannot describe that meeting; it is too
sacred.
“The next morning we moved her to my
house, and into my dead mother’s room.
“She entered the door alive, but was
carried out —dead.
“Just ten years ago to-morrow morning,
as the sun had cast his first rays on to her
bed, and bathed her in its glory, she left us.
“Then a year later you, Rob, a lad of fif
teen, were left to my care by a distant
cousin; while you were away at school,
Elsie came, agiftfrom another dying cousin.
“So I gave you two what love I had left;
and I was so glad, when I saw the love
growing up between you, for it seemed to
me that, bearing our names as you did, you
would have our lost happiness added to
yours.
“And so the day on which you were
wedded, was the happiest day I have seen
in years.”
The sun was setting when he finished,
and the shadows lay thick over the room,
for be was so weak that he had often halted
for a few minutes.
The two knelt beside him, with tears
running fast down their cheeks, while he
laid his hands on their heads, and blessed
them.
* * » « Ss
It was near morning when the watchers
called them, saying, to hurry, their uncle
was sinking fast. They dressed quickly,
and flew to his bedside. He knew them,
but was too weak to say much.
“Bury me—by her —, and meet us—where
the—wicked—cease—irom troubling—and
—the—weary—are—at—rest.”
Just as the sun shed his first light over
the earth, he raised up with a glorified face,
crying.in a ringing voice:
“Elsie, love, at last we meet to part no
more 1”
They laid him by Elsie’s side in God’s
acre, till His trump shall sound, to call
them forth.
“ WOMAN’S WORK. ”
The title of our paper, suggests a theme
for thought.
I am indebted to Mr. Carroll D. Wright,
Commissioner of Labor, Washington,
D. C., for his fourth annual report of work
ing women in large cities. Twenty-two
cities are represented. The object of the
investigation was to secure information
relative to the condition of working-women
in large cities ; that class of women who
earn a living by manual labor—the profes
sional and the semi-professional excluded.
The investigation shows a number of
17,427 —being from six to seven per cent,
of the entire number of women engaged in
work, coming under observation, in large
cities. The information has been collected
by women agents of the Department;
“ showing the efficiency of the women
employed, showing that they are capable
of taking up difficult and laborous work.
They have stood on equal footing with the
male force of the Department, and have
been compensated equally with them.”
In many instances we find woman’s work
to be commensurate with that of man’s,
and should she not have equal pay? But
how seldom employers seem to be cogni
zant of this truth. I learn, from the report,
that the average weekly earnings, of the
representative class of working-women,
does not exceed five dollars, and often a
portion of this has to be used to help defray
expenses of helpless members of the family.
Rent being high, necessity drives her to
an unsanitary portion of the city—where
gambling houses, saloons and brothels
exist. Often, after a day of hard work,
she is detained at work-room or store,
until late in the evening, and then she
must wend her way home, alone, through
this marsh of wickedness. Should she
sink in their slime of sin, who is to blame?
One of the laws of nature is; that we be
come a part of that which is around us.
The air we breath may lend a health to
soul and body, or it may infuse a poison :
but again, a diamond dropped in the
blackest mire is still a diamond, and often
the shop-girl gives to the world its brightest
example of purity.
Please allow me the prerogative of di
viding the women of 1890 as I find them,
into four classes:
Ist. The fashionable woman.
2nd. The enthusiastic but thoughtless
good woman.
3rd. The enthusiastic and thoughtful
good woman.
4th. The laboring woman.
The fashionable woman needs no intro
duction; she may be readily recognized as
she follows in the footsteps of fashion, her
willing slave. How often the eyes of
thoughtful women look upon her with
compassion! but she seems wedded to her
idol. Is there no hope? We pass her by,
as we walk through life, fully convinced
that her work is to pamper pride in its
humblest form. We sigh, for we remem
ber it has been predicted that “ pride goeth
before a fall.”
But, “ Who is this with face benign, so
fair it seems almost divine ? ” It is the
enthusiastic and thoughtful good woman.
We find representatives in thousands of
noble Christian women throughout the
world. Such women have existed in all
ages; even the Patriarchal day contributed
fixed stars to the galaxy of woman’s influ
ence for good—stars that have been shin
ing with an undimmed light, on the pages
of sacred history, for •centuries, and will
shine ■while time continues. Need we ask
what is the work of the women we have
represented? It lives, is speaks in tones
that will echo through all ages.
Here comes one; we recognize her as the
enthusiastic, thoughtless woman on good
intent. I am sure my reader, that you
can bring to your remembrance a repre
sentative woman. We have all met them,
hurrying on in their wild enthusiasm,
without consulting judgment; and the
result is, instead of being equipped with
necessary requisites, such as judgment
would have suggested for the rescue of
those they desire to save, on reaching them,
they become painfully conscious of their
inability to accomplish the good on which
they were intent, and so they sit and weep.
To illustrate, suppose a man at a distance
should behold a vessel nearing the shore,
but about to be lost. On this vessel are
precious lives that he might be able to
save, by making an effort. About him are
the necessary facilities for their rescue,
but, in his enthusiastic sympathy, he hur
ries away, forgetful of them until he reaches
the water’s edge, and then, in deep sorrow,
he becomes cognizant of bis thoughtlessness
—but too late. Yet it is better to have a
good enthusinsm, minus thought, than
that both should be wanting, and I think
God loves and pities the poor enthusiast.
But look you! Do you see that woman
with bowed head, pale cheeks and sunken
eyes? She is the representative of the
fourth class, toiling on for daily bread ; no
downy pillow, soft carpets or cheerful
blaze to greet her after a hard days work,
but a rickety stairway will probably
lead hear to some garret. I lingered
thoughtfully as I looked upon her, my
eyes filled with tears and I pray’d ; Oh
Lord thou didst teach us to pray. “Give
us this day our daily bread.” Give her to
eat, I pray Thee, the “Bread of life, and to
drink of Living-water.”
I turned me away, and behold! a painted
“Magdalene” almost took my breath, and
my sad soul grew sadder still, when I
thought of her work being to people (can I
write it? I could not speak it) hell.
I find my 1890 walk among women needs
patience and great Christ-love.
Jennie Gerald.
Montgomery, Ala.
For Woman’s Woi k.
MISTRESS AND MAID.
We have read somewhere, that in Eng
land there is a society for promoting long
service among servants. This society is
conducted by ladies, and “valuable prizes
are given.” Perhaps the query, “to whom
are the prizes given ?” might be pertinent;
at any rate we hope the society will not
condemn it as impertinent. There are two
sides to every question. The mistress’
view of this vexed one of domestic service,
is so constantly and so thoroughly present
ed in newspaper and magazine articles,
that these need no index to point out the
servant’s shortcomings. Suppose, for va
riety, we look at it from the servant’s
standpoint.
It frequently happens, that, from the
death of its parents, a lady takes into her
family as a member of it, a child—we will
say, a girl. If the lady is a Christian wo
man, what is the first thing she does ?
Feeling that the ordering of a life is in her
hands, she goes in prayer to the Almighty
for guidance in this responsibility. She
teaches the girl to speak the truth, that her
word may be of value; she urges her to
honesty, that she may respect the rights of
others; she gives her habits of neatness,
that she may prize the cleanliness that is
next to godliness; she inculcates industry
and economy, that - she may not waste the
gifts God may send her; she throws every
safe guard around her that the charm of
beautiful womanhood may be hers, and
with and through it all is woven the teach
ing of our divine Master, that faith and
Christian holiness may crown her work.
The child does not readily bend to all
this. There is often failure from unwilling
ness to be taught. Does the teacher relax
her efforts because of this ? Does she fall
into anger and complain of the undutiful
ness of the child and give the task into
other hands? We trust not. She remem
bers God’s patience and long suffering with
her, and with renewed prayer and renewed
endeavor, takes up her burden and goes on
to the end.
Does the Christian mistress always take
this view of her relation to the girl, who
comes to her in the capacity of domestic
servant? True, we do not expect the feel
ing of tenderness and affection, that lives
in the first case; but is there less of duty ?
The servant girl passes from home to home,
from mistress to mistress, with no other
instruction, save as how best to do her work,
that the interests of her mistress may not
suffer in her hand. How can we expect
her to perform more than the eye-service
against which St. Paul commands?
Does the mistress, as a friend, teach her
that to lie and steal is sin; or does she not
rather lock the door that she cannot steal.,
and take all that she says as false, until she
proves it true ? Does she tell her that in
dustry, economy and cleanliness must be
practiced because they are Christian virtues;
or does she not compel them that her own
substance may not be wasted or injured ?
Does she urge her to modesty of deport
ment and see that she is not exposed to
temptation, by avoiding the sending of her
to unseemly places at late hours; or does
she not reconcile her conscience with the
thought, that the girl’s character is not in
her keeping, and that in giving her full
money value for her services, her duty to
her is done?
What is there in money, that will keep
a girl in domestic service, when she is made
to feel always, that nothing is expected of
her that a machine might not as well per
form; i. e. work? When honesty, truth, vir
tue, are at a discount, since they count for
nothing; when, to her untaught morals there
are far easier lives, though they be lives of
shame, and destructive in the end? But
she does not Icok as far as the end, when
the need of all her life has been to take care
of the present.
Let the ladies of this English society
award their highest prize to the faithful,
painstaking,conscientious mistress, who, by
arousing principle, gratitude, yea, even
affection, in her servant, so attaches her to
herself, that no temptation can draw her
away, and to such a servant, likewise her
reward. Butlet them not think to improve
domestic service by giving “valuable prizes
for long service.”
M. E. S.