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Till: lIfIIN 11 OF THE FAMFEY.
VOLUME 11.
(T’jjc jfrirtiil of (T’jjt /nttiilij,
A Weekly Southern Newspaper,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY
EDWARD J. PURSE.
terms:
Xwo Dollars a year, in advance, or Two
fifty if not paid within three months.
| fCB sCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS,
AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE.
Three copies for one year, or one copy
three years, ------- So 00
Siren Copies, 100)
Twelve copies, 15 00
• * Advertisements to a limited extent,
fill be inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a
qr* of twelve lines or less, for the first in
sertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent
insertion. Business cards inserted for a year
,t Five Dollars.
liberal discount will he made to Post
Masters who will do us the favor to act as
Agents.
Postmasters are authorized to remit mo
ney to Publishers and all money mailed in
presence of the Postmaster, and duly for
warded b- him, is at our risk.
VT All communications to be addressed
post-paid) to E. J. PURSE,
Savannah, Gn.
SAM L. L. SPEISSEGGER,
j TVSER $ REPAIRER PIANO FORTES.
# HAVING been engaged in the above busi
ness fertile last 35 years, Mr S. trusts that
special references are unnecessary.
5 Orders left with Mr 11. S. Bogardus, Bull-st.,
M-ssrs F. Zogbaum & Cos., or Messrs l. W. Mor
fl! A Cos., will be attended to with promptness
lud fidelity. lm ort 12
W. A. J. WYLLY,
j CABISET MAKER $ UNDERTAKER,
Corner of Broughton and Bull Streets,
Under the Lyceum Ilall.
’nffins of all kinds made of the best materials, and
.rnished at the shortest notice.
AUo, uew and second hand Fu niture bought
ud sold, and repaired with dispatch,
ort 12 2m
N. ELLS,
FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER,
j, 104 Broughton-sL, near the corner of Bull-st.
oct 12 ts
J. S. SOLOMONS
‘■'ILL contract to execute Plastering, of all kinds
ud styles, at the shortest notice.
Rffidencc, President Street, next door to Mr. M.
Sutler's. 2m oct 12
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING.
GEO. N. NICHOLS,
I (Orciu’ Building , opposite the Pulaski House,)
SAVANNAH, GA.
Ii prepared to execute all work in his line, with
neatness and despatch, and in a style
not to be surpassed.
j Prices as reasonable as any other establishment
I In the city. iy sept 28
JOHN F. SHEEN,
UASHIONABLE TAIL OR,
I Over J. M. Haywood’s Hair Dressins Saloon,
OPPOSITE THE PULASKI HOUSE.
Cutting, Mending and Cleanins done with neatness
■ tnd despatch. Work made up as cheap as at any
I tier establishment in the city. sept 21
McARTHOR & MORSE,
Manufacturers and Dea'ers in
W, JAPANNED & BLOCK TIN WARE,
HOLLOW Sc ENAMELLED WARE,
STOVES AND COOKING RANGES,
LUD Pipe, Sheet Lead. Copper and Zinc,
’ STORE, 13 BARNARD STREET.
All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron Work,
bne in the best manner, at the shortest notice.
ppt 21 lvr
JOHN OLIVER,
HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER,
GILDER, GLAZIER, &c.,
121 Broughton Street, a sere doors east of
Whitaker Street, Savannah, Ga.
I All kinds of Faints —Faint Oil, Turpentine,
I ‘ ir ni#h, Glass, Putty, &c., for sale. July 20
EDWARD G. WILSON,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
I hweyancer, Collector, Accountant Copyist,
Office under J. M. Haywood’s,
j UF*Return Dav, Wednesday, October 23d.
t J. DE MARTIN,
DEALER IN
Fruits, Wines, Liquors, Segnrs,
PICKI.ES, PRESERVES and GARDEN SEEDS.
—: also: —
APPLES, ONIONS N POTATOES,
*’ n in season, received fresh by every vessel.
—: also: —
‘Lttert put up to order in from 1 to 10 gallon kegs.
Corner of Bay and Whitaker Streets,
SAVANNAH, c.a.
ALLEN & BALL,
Actors & commission merchants,
No. 112 BAY STREET,
SAVANNAH, GA.
J. M. BALL & CO.,
®ommtsg i on jtterchants,
MACON, GEORGIA.
I °BEnT A. ALLEN, JAMES M. BALL,
j*pt 20 ly
SAMUEL S. MILLER,
manufacturer of
carriages and wagons,
dealer in hubs, spokes, felloes, &.c.
No. 140 Broughton St., Savannah.
J. T. JONES.
manufacturer and dealer in
Double & Single Guns, Rifles, &c.,
West Side of Monument Square.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
JONES & FAPOT,
Shipwrights, Spar Makers,
AND CAULKER S.
rd opposite R. tc J. Lachlison’s Foundry.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
R. H. DARBY,
Artier Broughton and Whitaker Street*,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
W. D. is prepared to execute all orders for
diking or Cutting on reasonable terms,
mar 9 ly
J. S. STURTEVANT,
Faster builder,
Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts.
to ** ne w promptly attended
‘ lnd faithfully executed. ly June 1
miit art, Ijir .funs nf fempmuire, ffinsann) anil tjir Jims of tj|f -iat;.
JOHN V. TARVER,
FACTOR 4. COMMISSION MERCHANT
EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA.
RABUN & FULTON,
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
ho. 207 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
J. W. It A HUN, R.r.. FULTON, I. P. WHIT EHEAD.
LANIER HOUSE,
BY LANIER & SON,
d |Jnc Macon, Georgia.
J. hasbrouck & CO
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CHINA, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE,
sept 21 BROUGHTON STREET. SAVANNAH.
S. Y. LEVY,
attorney at law,
Olfice, No. 185 Ray-Street.
E. T. SHEFTALL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
may 2.) Dublin, Georgia.
MEDICAL NOTICE.
DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. 157 Brottgh
ton Street. ts mar 23
FRANCIS WAVER,
IMPORTING & COMMISSION MERCHANT,
No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo.
PHILIP KEAN,
DRAPER AND TAILOR,
AND DEALER IN
ready made clothing.
Penfield s Range, No. 98 Bryan Street,
Store formerly occupied by J Southwell & Cos.,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
G. W HEDRICK,
HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER,
Gilder, Glazier, Grainer & Paper Hanger.
No. 12 Barnard Street, South of the Market,
IS always ready to execute all orders in his line
with dispatch, and at the lowest prices. All
kinds of mixed Paints, Glass and Putty kept
for sale. lyr Dec 22
A SHORT,
MASTER BUILDER,
Will take contracts for Building and Work in
Masonry of every description. Cornel of South
Broad and Whitaker streets. may 26
CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER.
The subscriber is prepared to execute with
neatness and despatch all work in the above line.
142 Broughton St. Two Doors West of I. W.
MURRELL’S Furniture Store,
june 1 ly I. SOLOMONS, Agent.
CLOTHING,
PIERSON & HEIDT offer for sale CLOTHING,
Wholesale and Retail, at New York prices, No.
10 Whitaker Street. npl 20
G M. GRIFFEN.
JsjS. HAVING puichased the stock in trade of
ifcS[3 thelate M. Eastman, would solicit the con
fcsSS6.iiiued patronage of all the friends of the
establishment. All customers shall bo pleased
with goods and satisliad with prices.
GEO. M. GRIFFEN.
N. B.—Watches and Chrometers will receive
the personal attention of Mr. G., as usual,
sept 21
DR. J. DENNIS,
BOTANIC DRUGGIST,
Next door above L. C. Warren &. Cos,
Augusta, Ga.
Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment*
selected from the best establishments in the United
States,consistim; of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho
retics, Diuretics, Expectorants, Einmenagogues,
Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka
lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds
for family use. Composition Fowder, No. Six,
Lobelia in its various preparations, ulso
Medical Books. may 4
ALFRED HAYWOOD.
CORNER IJRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS,
Market Square, Savannah,
Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NUTS,
ORANGES, LEMONS, AFFLES, AND I*o
- Wholesale and Retail.
First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fi-b, See.
Newark refined Ghampaigne Cider, and Albany
Cream Ale, by the bbl.
Orders from the Country, accompanied
by the cash or Ciiv reference, punctually attended
to ang 9
GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES.
STRATTON Sc DOBSON,
Having received an assortment of Chandeliers,
Fondants, Brackets and Portable Gas Burners,
respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to
call at their store, No. 72 St. Julian street, and
examine the same 4t june 1
JOHN MALLERY,
DRAPER AND TAILOR,
No. 55 Bay-st. joining the City Hotel.
Invites the attention to his Stock of New and
Seasonable Goods, now opening, consisting of
choice READY MADE CLOTHING and FUR
NISHING GOODS, comprising every article
of Gentlemen’s apparel.
Also, a full supply es CLOTHS, CASSIMERES
and VESTINGS, of various shades and qualities
—which will be made to order in the most ap
proved style, by competent and experienced
Workmen, warranted to give entire satisfaction,
and at prices to suit the times oct 18
NEW FALL GOODS.
THE Subscriber has just returned from the North
with a splendid stock of CLOTHS, C ASSIMERS,
VESTINGS, &c., together with a full assortment
of fancy articles, such as Gloves, Shirts, Cravats,
Handkerchiefs, Scarfs and every thing compri
sing a gentleman s wardrobe.
Having engaged the services of M. M. Cari.y,
who is well known as an experienced Cutter, he
feels confident of pleasing all who will favor him
with a call, at the old stand, corner of Broughton
and Whitaker Streets, sign of the Golden Lamb.
SAMUEL P. DIBBLE.
1”!*“ CUTTING done at the shortest notice,
sept 28 ts
A. CARD.
A lndv educated in London and Paris, a good
Musician, Singer, Draughts-woman, and Painter,
who speaks the French language in all its purity,
desires a situation either in a School or private
family. Terms moderate—references most re
spectable.
A line addressed to this office, care of E. J.
Purse, for D’Este Smyth, will be attended to im
mediately. june 29
A CARD.
The Undersigned having re-opened with an entire
New Stock of DRUGS, CHEMICALS, AND
FANCY ARTICLES, at No. 139 (South Side)
Broughton itreet, (formerly Walker’s Marble
\ard) is now ready to furnish anything in bis line
at the shortest notice. SODA WATER, made
in his own peculiar way, sent to any part of the
city, and always to be had at the’ store in the
highest state of perfection.
Prescriptions put up with care and despatch.
The Subscriber having served the public long
and faithfully, respectfully solicits a share of their
patronage.
may 11 THOS. RYERSON.
frlrrtrfr *
the household jewels.
A traveller, from journeying
Iu countries far awny, ” °
Re-passed his threshold at the close
Os one calm Sabbath day;
A voice of love, a comely face,
A kiss of chaste delight.
Were the first things to welcome him
On that blest Sabbath night.
He stretched his limbs upon the hearth.
Before its friendly blaze,
And conjured up mixed memories
Ot gay and gloomy days ;
And felt that none of gentle soul,
However fur he roam,
Cun e’er forego, can e’er forget,
The quiet joys of home.
“ Blin g my children !” cried the sire,
With eager, earnest tone ;
“ I long to press them, nnd to mark
How lovely they have grown;
A welve weary mouths have passed away
Since I went o’er the sea,
To feel how sad and lone I was
4 Without my babes and thee.”
“ Refresh thee, as ’tis needful,” said
The fair and faithful wife,
The while her pensive features paled,
And stirred with inward strife ;
“Refresh thee, husband of my heart,
I ask it ns n boon ;
Our children are reposing, love ;
Thou shalt behold them soon.”
She spread the meal, she filled the cup,
She pressed him to partake;
He sat down blithely at the board,
And all for her sweet sake ;
But when the frugal least was done,
The thankful prayer preferred,
Again affection’s fountain flowed ;
Again its voice was heard.
“ Bring me my children, darling wife,
I’m in an ardent mood ;
My soul lacks purer aliment,
I long for other food ;
Bring forth my children to my gaze,
Or ere I rage or weep,
I yearn to kiss their happy eyes
Before the hour of sleep.”
“ I have a question yet to ask;
Be patient, husband dear.
A stranger, one auspicious morn.
Did send some jewels here ;
Until to take them from my care,
But yesterday he came,
And I restored them with a sigh:
—Dost thou approve, or blame ?”
“ I marvel much, sweet wife, that thou
Shouldst breathe such words to me ;
Restore to man, resign to God,
Whate’er is lent to thee ;
Restore it with a willing heart,
Be grateful for the trust;
Whate’er may tempt or try us, wife,
Let us be ever just.”
She took him by the passive hand,
And up the moonlit stair,
She led him to their bridal bed,
With mute and mournful air ;
She turned the cover down, and there,
In grave-like garments dressed.
Lay the twin children of their love,
In death’s serenest rest.
“ These were the jewels lent to me.
Which God has deigned to own ;
The precious caskets still remain,
But, all, the gems are flown ;
But thou didst teach me to resign
What God alone can claim ;
He giveth and he takes away,
Blest be Ilis holy name !”
The father gazed upon his babes,
The mother drooped apart,
Whilst all the woman’s sorrow gushed
From her o’erburdened heart;
And with the striving of her grief,
Which wrung the tears she shed,
Were mingled low and loving words
To the unconscious dead.
When the sad sire had looked his fill,
Lie veiled each breathless face,
And down in self abasement bowed,
For comfort and for grace ;
With the deep eloquence of woe,
Poured forth his secret soul,
Rose up, and stood erect and calm,
In spirit lioaled and whole.
“ Restrain thy tears, poor wife,” he said,
“ I learn this lesson still,
God gives, and God can take away,
Blest be His holy will !
Blest are my children, for they live
From sin and sorrow free,
And I am not all joyless, wife,
With faith, hope, love, and thee.”
jMtrtrh €’nlr,
THE SICKNESS AND HEALTH OF
THE PEOPLE OF BLEABURN.
IN THREE PARTS.
The sun was just up when Mary
heard the tap at the door below,
which came every morning at sun
rise. She put her head out of the
window, and said softly that she
was coming,—would be down in
two minutes. She laid poor Ned
besides his brother, and covered
him with the same shawl ; drew oft’
the old sheets and coverlid from the
bed of shavings, bundled them up
with such towels as were in the
room, and put them out of the win
dow, Warrender being below, ready
to receive them. She did not ven
ture to let the poor mother see them
delirious as she was. Softly did
Mary tread on the floor, and go
down the creaking stair. When
she reached the street she drew
in, with a deep sigh, the morning
air.
“The poor children’s bedding,”
she said to Warrender.
“They are gone ?” he inquired.
“What both?”
“One just before midnight. The
other half-an-hour ago. And their
mother will follow soon.”
SAVANNAH, GA,, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1850.
•‘The Lord have mercy upon
us,” 6aid Warrender, solemnly.
“1 think it is mercy to take a fami
ly thus together, ’’replied Mary.
“But I think ot poor Aunty. If I
could find any one to sit here for
half-an-hour, I would go to her, and
indeed I much wish it.”
“There is a poor creature would
be glad enough to come, ma’am if
she thoughtyou would countenance
it. A few words will tell you the
case. She is living with Simpson,
the baker’s man, without being his
wife. Widow Johnson was very
stern with her, and with her daugh
ter, Billiter, for being neighbourly
with the poor girl—though people
do say that Simpson deceived her
cruelly. lam sure, if I might fetch
Sally, she would come, and be
thankful ; and—”
“O ! ask her to come and help
me. It she has done wrong, that
is the more reason why she should
do what good she can. How is
Ann ?”
“Pretty well. Rather worn, as
we must all expect to ho. She nev
er stood so many hours at ihe wash
tub, any one day, as she does now
every da}’ : but then, as she says,
there never was so much reason.”
“And you, yourself?”
“I am getting through, ma’am,
thank you. I seem to see the end of
the white-washing for one thing.
They have sent us more brushes
of the right sort from O , and l
should like, if I could, to get two or
three boys into training. They
might do the out-houses and the
lower parts, where there are fewest
sick, while I arn upstairs. But,
for some reason or .other, the lads
are shy of me. There is some dif
ference already, I assure you,
ma’am, both as to sight and smell;
but there might be more, if I could
get better help.”
“And you are careful, I hope, for
Ann’s sake, to put all the linen first
into a tub of water outside.”
“Yes, surely. I got the carpen
ter’s men to set a row of tubs beside
our door, and to promise to change
the water once a day. I laugh at
them for asking if they could catch
the fever that way: and they are
willing enough to oblige where
there’s no danger. Simpson offer-
ed to look to our boiler as he goes to
the bakehouse when, as he says,
Ann and I ought to be asleep. I
let him do it and thank him ; but it
is not much that we sleep, or think
of sleeping, just now.”
“Indeed,” said Mary, “you have
a hard life of it, and without pay or
reward, I am afraid I never saw
such—”
“Why, ma’am,” said Warrender,
“you are the last person to sav those
sort of things. However, it is not
a time for praising one another,
when there are signs in the heaven,
and God’s wrath on earth.”
“You saw the comet, did you?
How beautiful it is ! It will cheer
our watch at nights now. All ! you
see I don’t consider it anything fear
ful, or a sign of anything but that
having anew sort of stars brought
before our eyes toadmire, we don’t
understand all about the heavens
yet, though we know a good deal ;
and just so with the fever: it is a
sign, not of wrath, as 1 take it, hut
that the people here do not under
stand how to keep their health.
They have lived in dirt, and damp,
and closeness, some hungry and
some drunken: and when unusual
weather comes, a wet spring and a
broiling summer, down they sink
under the fever. Do you know, I
dare not call this God’s wrath.’
Warrender did not like to say it,
but the thought was in his mind,
why people were left so ignorant
and so suffering. Mary was quick
at reading faces, and she answered
the good fellow’s mind, while she
helped to hoist the bundle of linen
on his shoulder.
“We shall see, Warrender,
whether the people can learn by
God’s teaching. He is giving us a
very clear and strong lesson now.”
Warrender touched his hat in si
lence, and walked away.
Aunty had for some time been
out of danger from the fever, or
Mary could not have left her to at
tend on the Billiters, urgent as was
their need. But her weakness was
so great that she had to be satisfied
to lie still all day in the intervals of
Mary’s little visits. Poor Jem
brought her this and that, when she
asked for it, but he was more trouble
than help, from his incurable de
termination to shut all doors and
windows, and keep a roaring fire :
he did everything else, within his
power, that his mother desired him,
but on these points he was immove
able. If ever his mother closed
her eyes, he took the opportunity
to put more wood on the.fire ; and
he looked so grievously distressed
if requested to take it that
at last he was let alone. Mary was
fairly accustoming him to occupy
himself in bringing pails of water
and carrying away all refuse, when
she was summoned to the Biliters;
hut the hint was given, and the
neighbours saw that they need no
longer use water three or four times
over for washing, while poor Jem
was happy to carry it away, rinse
the pails, and bring fresh. His
cousin Mary had often of late found
him thus engaged : but this morn
ing he was at home, cowering in a
chair. When she set the windows
open, he made no practical objec
tion ; and the fire was actually out.
Mary was not therefore suprised at
Aunty’s reply to her inquiries.
“1 am tolerably easy myself, my
dear, but I can’t tell’what has come
over Jem ; it seems to me that some
body must have been giving him
drink, he staggered so when he
crossed the room half-an-hour ago ;
yet I hardly think he would take it,
he has such a dislike to everything
strong. What a tiling it is that 1
am lying here, unable to stir to see
about it mvself!”
“We will see about it,” said Mary I
going to poor Jem. “I neither
think he would touch drink, nor that
any body would play such a trick
with him at such a time. No,” she
went on, when she felt his pulse and
looked well at his face, “it is not
dink it is illness.”
“The fever,” groaned the moth
er.
“I think so. Courage, Aunty!
we will nurse him well : and the
house is wholesrnne now, you know.
You are through the fever : and his
chance is a better one than yours,
the house is so much more airy, and
I have more experience.”
“But, Mary, you cannot go on
for ever, wilhout sleep or rest, in
this way. What is to be done, 1
don’t see.”
“I do, Aunty. I am very well
to-day. To-morrow will take care
of itself. I must get Jem to bed;
and if he soon seems to be moaning
and restless, you must mind it as
little as you can. It is very mis
erable, as you have good reason to
know ; but—”
“1 know something that you do
not, I see,” said Aunty. “A more
patient creature than my poor Jem
does not live in Bleaburn, nor any
where else.”
“What a good chance that gives
him !” observed Mary, “and what a
blessing it is, for himself and for
you 1 1 must go to my cousin now
presently ;nnd I will send the doc
tor to see Jem.”
The poor fellow allowed himself
lobe undressed; and let his head
fall on his bolster, as if it could have
kept up a minute longer. He was
fairly down in the fever.
chapter v.
That evening, Mary felt more at
leisure and at rest than for weeks
past. There was nothing to be
done for Mrs Billiter but to watch
beside her : and the carpenter had
his whispered orders in the street
for the coffins for the two little
boys. The mother had asked no
questions, and had appeared to be
wandering too much to take notice
of anything passing before her eyes.
Now she was quiet, and Mary felt
the relief. She had refreshed her
self (and she used to tell, in after
years, what such refreshments were
worth) with cold water, and a clean
wrapper, and a mutton-chop, sent
hot from the Plough and Harrow
for the Good Lady (wilh some wine
which she kept for the convales
cents), and she was now sitting hack
in her chair beside the open win
dow, through which fell a yellow
glow of reflected sunshine from the
opposite heights. All was pro
foundly still. When she had once
satisfied her conscience that she
ought not to be plying her needle
because her eyes were strained for
want of sleep, she gave herself up
to the enjoyment—for she really
vyas capable of enjoyment through
everything—of watching the oppo
site precipice ; how the shadow
crept up it ; and how the sunny
crest seemed to grow brighter ; and
how the swallows darted past their
holes, and skimmed down the hol
low once more before night should
come on. Struck, at last, by the
silence, she turned her head, and
was astonished at the change she
saw. Her cousin lav quiet, looking
as radiant as the sunset itself; her
large black eyes shining, un-op
pressed by the rich light ; her long
dark hair on each side the wasted
face, and waving down to the white
hands which lay outside of the quilt
Their eyes met, full and clear ; and
Mary knew that her cousin’s mind
was now clear, like the gaze of her
eves.
J
“I see it all now.” said the dying
woman, gently.
“What do you see, love ?”
“I see the reason of everything
that I did not understand before.”
And she began to speak of her life
and its events, and went on with a
force and clearness, and natural
eloquence—yet more, with a simple
piety—which Mary was wont to
speak of afterwards as the finest
revelation of a noble soul that she
had ever unexpectedly met with.
Mrs. Billiter knew that her little
boys were dead : she knew by some
means or other, all the horrors by
which she was surrounded ; and she
knew that she was about to die.
Yet the conversation was a thorough
ly cheerful one. The faces of both
were smiling; the voices of both
were lively, though that of the dy
ing woman was feeble. After sum
ming up the experience of her life
and declaring what she expected to
experience next, and leaving a mes
sage for her mother, she said there
was but one thing more ; she ‘should
like ( to receive the sacrament.’—
Mary wrote a note in pencil to Mr.
Finch, and sent it by Sally, who had
been hovering about ever since the
morning, in the hope of being of
further use, but who was glad now
to get out of sight that her tears
might have way; for she felt that
that she was about to lose the only
friend who had been kind to her (in
a way she could accept) since Simp
son had put her offfrom the promis
ed marriage.
“She is sorry to part with me,”
said that dying friend. “Cousin
Mary, you do not think, as my moth
er does, that 1 have done wrong in
noticing Sally, do you ?”
“No; I think you did well. And
I think your mother will be kind to
her, for your sake, from this time
forward. Sickness and death open
our eyes to many things, you know,
cousin.”
“Av, they do. I see it all now.”
Sally was sorely ashamed to bring
back Mr. Finch’s message. Well
as she knew that time was precious,
she lingered with it at the door.
Mr. Finch was sorry, but he was
too busy. He hoped he should not
be sent for again ; for he could not
come.
“Perhaps, Miss,” said Sally, with
swimming eyes, “it might have been
better to send somebody else than
if you sent somebody
else—”
“I do not think that. Sally. How
ever, if you will remain here, I will
go myself. It does not matter what
he thinks of me, a stranger In the
place ; and perhaps none of his flock
could so well tell him that this is a
duty which he cannot refuse.”
Mary had not walked up the
street for several weeks. Though
her good influence was in almost
every house, in the form of cleanli
ness, fresh air cheerfulness, and
hope, she had been seenoniy when
passing from one sick room to
another, among a cluster of houses
near her aunt’s. She supposed it
might be this disuse which made
everything appear strange ; but it
was odd scarcely to feel her limbs
when she walked, and to see the
houses and people like so many vis
ions. She had no feeling of illness,
however, and she said to herself,
that some time or other she should
get a good long sleep ; and then
everything would look and feel as it
used to do.
As she passed along the street,
the children at play ran in to the
houses to say that tfie Good Lady
was coming; and the healthy and
and the convalescent came out on
their door-steps, to bid God bless
her; and the sick, who were sensi
ble enough to know what was go
ing on, bade God blese her from
their beds.
What influence the Good Lady
used with the clergyman there is
no saying, as the conversation was
never reported by either of them ;
but she soon came hack bright and
cheerful, saying that Mr. Finch
would follow in an hour. She had
stepped in at Warrender’s to beg
the father and daughter to come and
communicate with the dying*woman.
They would come : and Sally would
go she was sure, and take Ann
Warrender’s place at the wash-tub
at home ; for there were several sick
people in want of fresh lmen before
night. Poor Sally went sobbing
through the streets. She understood
the Good Lady’s kindness in send
ing her away, and on a work of
usefulness, because she, alas ! could
not. receive the communion. She
was living in sin ; and when two
or three were gathered together in
the name of Christ, she must be east
out.
There was little comfort in the
service, unless, as the bystanders
hoped, the sick woman was too fee-
ble and too much absorbed in her
own thoughts to notice some things
that dismayed them. Mrs. Billiter
was, indeed surprised at first at the
clergyman’s refusal to enter the
chamber. He would come no fur
ther than the door.. Mary saw at a
glance that he was in no condition
to be reasoned with, and that she
must give what aid she could to get
the administration over as decent
ly as possible. Happily, he made
the service extremely short. The
little that there was he read wrong :
hut Mrs. Billiter (and she alone) was
not disturbed by this. Whether it
was that the deadening of the ear
had begun, or that Mr. Finch spoke
indistinctly, and was chewing spices
all the time, or that the observance
itself was enough for the poor wo
man, it seemed all right with her.
She lay with her eyes still shining,
her wasted hands clasped, and a
smile on her face, quite easy and
content; and when Mr. Finch was
gone, she told Mary again that she
saw it all now, and was quite ready.
She was dead within an hour.
As for Warrender, he was more
disturbed than any one bad seen
him since the breaking out of tlie
fever.
“Why, there it is before bis eyes
in the Prayer-book,” said he, “that
clergymen ‘shall diligently from
lime to time (but especially in the
time of pestilence, or other infec
tious sickness) exhort their parish
ioners to the often receiving of the
holy communion and instead of
this, he even shuts up the church on
Sundays.”
“He is not the'first who has done
that,” said Mary. “It \vas done
in times of plague, as a matter of
precaution.”
“But, Miss, should not a clergy
man go all the more among the
people, and not the less, for their
having no comfort of worship ?”
“Certainly : but you see bow it is
with Mr. Finch, and you and I can
not alter it. He has taken a panic ;
and I am sure he is the one most to
be pitied for that. I can tell you
too. between ourselves, that Mr.
Finch judges himself, at times, as
severely as we can-judge him j and
is more unhappy about being of so
little use to his people than his worst
enemy could wish him.”
“Then, Ma’am, why does not he
pluck up a little spirit, and do his
duty t”
“He has been made too soft,” he
says, “by a fond mother* who is
always sending him cordials and
spices against the fever. We must
make some allowance, and look
another way. Let us be thankful
that you and Ann afe not afraid. If
our poof neighbors ha\e not all
we could wish they have clean bed
ding and clothes, and lime-washed
rooms, fresh and sweet compared
with anything they have known be
fore.”
“And,” thought Warrender, al
though he did not say it, but only
touched his hat as he went after his
business, “one as good as any cler
gyman to pray by their bedsides,
and speak cheerfully to them of
what is to come. When I go up
ine stair, I might know who is pray—
ing by the cheerfulness of the voice.
I never saw such a spirit in any wo
man —never. I have never once
seen her cast down, ever so little.
If there is a tear in her eye, for other
people’s sake, there is a smile on
her lips, because her heart tells her
that everything thing that happens
is all right.”
This night, Mary was to have
slept. SJie herselfhad intended it,
warned oy the strange feelings
which had come over her as she
walked up the street : and it would
gratify Aunty’s feelings that the
corpse should not be left. She in
tended to lie down and sleep be
side the still and unbrealhing form
oT the cousin whose last hours had
been so beautiful in her eyes. But
Aunty’s feelings were now tried in
another direction. Unable to move
Aunty was sorely distressed by
Jem’s moanings and restlessness ;
and Mary was the only one who
j could keep him quiet in any degree.
So, without interval, she went to
jhe r work of nursing again. Next,
: the funeral of Mrs. Billiter, and
i two or three more, fixed for the
same day, were put off, because
Mr. Finch was ill. And when Mr.
Finch w r as ill, he sent to beg the
Goody Lady to come immediately
and nurse him. After writing to his
own family, to desire some of them
to come and take charge of him, she
did go to him : but not to remain
day and night as she did with the
poor w'ho had none to help them.
She saw that all was made comfor
table about him, gave him his medi
cines at times, and always spoke
cheerfully. But it was as she saw
from the beginning. He was dying
NUMBER 33.