The Sumter banner. (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, February 26, 1851, Image 2
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wame.
The heart of John ]Middleton.
From Dickens's Household Words.
I was born at Sawley, where the
shadow of Pendle Hill falls at sun
rise. I suppose Sawley sprang up
into a village in the time of the monks.
who had an abbey there. Many of
the cottages are strange old places;
others again are built of the abbey
i iezgbo ig' gUtile-hale from
may see many a quaint bit of carving
worked into the walls, or forming the
lintels of the doors. Ther e is a row
of houses, built still more recently,
where one Mr. Peel came to live
.there for the sake of the water-power,
and gave the place a fillip into some.
thn lik jfc; though a different kind
'take it from the grand
ks had when th monks
Ye; and even at night.
when work was done, ire hardly
knew bow to walk slowly, we hail
been so bustled all day long. I can't
recollect the time when I did not go
to the factory. My father used to
drag me there when I was quite a
little fellow, in order to wind reels for
him. I never remember my mother.
I should have been a better man than
I have been, if I had only had a
notion of the sound of her voice, or
the look of her face.
M7 , fthor and I lodged in the
bous ,t a man, who also worked in
the factory. We were saily throng
ed in Sawley, so many people came
fro-n different parts of the country
to earn a livelihood at the new work;
and it was some time before the row
of cottages I have spoken of could be
built. While they were building my
father was turned out of his lodgings
for drinking and being disorderly,
and he and I slept in the brick-kiln;
that is to say, when we did sleep o'
nights; but, often and often, we went
poaching; and many a hare and
pheasant have I rolled up in clay,
a~nd roasted in the embers of the
kiln. Then, as followed to reason, I
was drowsy next day, over my work;
but father had no mercy on me for
sleeping, for all he knew the cause of'
it, but kied me where I lay, a lhen.
'ty lump on the factory-floor, and
cursed and swore at me till I got up
for very fear, and to my winding
again. But when his back was turn
ed p paid him off with heavier curses
thaR he had given me, and longed to
be a man that I might be revenged
on him. The words I then spoke I
*yrould not now dare to repeat; and
worse thtan hating words, a hating
boart went with them. I forgot the
time when I did not know how to
hate. When I first came to read
and learnt about Ishtmaol, I thought
I must bo of his doomed race, for my
hand was against every man, and
every mati's against me. But I was
seventoen or more before I cared for
my book enough to learn to read.
After the row of works was finished,
father took one, ad sot up for himisolfI,
Iln Ipttltug lodlgings. .1 can't say much
f'or the furmishmng; but there was
plenty of straw, anid we kept up good
nr ios; and chore is a sot of pople whIo
vanlue warmtht abovo everything.
Tho wotrst lot about the plauo lodgod
with) us. We used to have a supper
hi the middle of' tho ni ght; there wats
gam .enetgh, or If there was not
gaum, thered was poultry to be htad for
th o atonling. Bly da~y we all mando a
ghna of wvorking jIn the fa~'ctor'y. fly
ililt we t'unaled ip df) gel k,
Now this web of my life was black
enough and coarse enough; but by
and by, a little golden filmy thread
began to be woven in; the dawn of
God's mercy was at hand.
One blowy October morning, as I
sauntered lazily along to the mill, I
came to the little wooden bridge over
a brook that falls into the Bribble.
On the plank there stood a child,
balancing the pitcher on her head,
with which she had been to fetch
water. She was so light on her feet
that, had it not been for the weight of
the pitcher, I almost believe the wind
would have taken her up, and wafted
her away as it carries off a blow-ball
in seed-time, her blue cotton dress was I
blown before her, as if she were
spreading her wings for a flight; she
turned her face round, as if to ask me
for something, but when she saw who
it was she hesitated, for I had a bad
name in the village and I doubt not
she had been warned against me.
But her heart was too innocent to be
distrustful; as she said to me timidly.
"Please, John Middleton, will you
carry me this heavy jug just over
the bridge?"
It was the very first time I had ever
been spoken to gently. I was ordered
here and there by my father and his
rough companions; I was abused and
cursed by them if I failed in doing
what they wished; if I succeeded,
there came no expression of thanks or
neebd'yo L a" i &jnforined of facts
gentle words of request or entreaty
were afore time unknown to me, and
now their tones fell on my car soft
and sweet as a distant peal of bells.
I wished that I knew low to speak
properly in reply; but though we were
of the same standing as regarded
worldly circumstances, there was
somcpighty difference between us
a i eaty. There i as nothing tfr me 1
but take up the pitcher in a kind of I
grutT, shy silence, and carry it over l
the bridge as she had asked me. I
When I gave it her back again, she ,
thanked me and tripped away, leaving
me, word-less, gazing at her like au I
awkward lout as I was. I knew t
well enough who she was.-She was f
grandchild to Eleanor Hadfield, an
aged woman, who was reputed as a
witch by my father and his set, for no
other reason, that 1 can make out,
than her scorn, dignity, and fearless.
ness of rancor. It was true we often
met her in the gray dawn of the
morning when we returned from
poaching, and my father used to
curse her, under his breath, for a
,witch, such as were burnt, long ago,
on Pendle lill top; but I had heard
that Eleanor was a skilful sick nurse,
and ever ready to give to those who
were ill; and I believe that she had
been sitting up through the night
(the night that we had been spending
under the wild heavens, in deeds as t
wild,) with those who were appointed
to die. Nelly was her orphan grand
daughter; her little hand maiden: her
treasure; her one ewe lamb. Many
and many a day have I watched b'
the brook-side, hoping that some
happy gust of windl, coming with
opportune bluster dlown the hollow of
the dale, might make me necessary
once more to hecr. I longed to hear
her speak to me again. I said thet
words she had used to myself, trying
to catch her tone; but the chanice
never came againt, I (10 not know that
she ever knew how I avatched for herE
there. I found out that she went to I
school, and nothing would serve me<
but that I must go too. My faither<
scoffed at me; Idid not care. 1 knew
nought of what reading was, nor that,
it was likely that I should be laughed
at; I, a great hulking lad of seventeen
or upward, for going to learn my A,
13, 0, in the midst of a crowd otf little i
ones. It stood just this way in my
mind. Nolly was at school; it was the
best place for seeing her, and bocarinig 1
her voce again. Therefore I woul
go too. My father talked, and swore,
and threatened, but latood to it. lie
said 1Jshould leave school, weary of'
It in a month. 1 swore a deeper oath
than I lko to romombebr, that.1 would
stay a year, andr come out a writsr.
My f'at ier hattod the notion of folks
learning to road, arid said it took tall
the apirit out of thoem; besides, lhe
thoughit he had a righti to every penny3
of' tny~ wages, and though, wheni
lie was in good humnor, lie might have
given me many a jug of ale, he
grudgoid my two-penco a week for
sdcolin -...Honure to nchlI ri
Went. It was a different place to
what Ihad thought it before I went I
nsido. The girls sat one side and I
the boys on the other; so I was not ]
tcar Nclly. She too was in the first i
lass; I was put with the little I
:oddling things that could hardly run
ilone. The master sat in the middle, 4
md kept pretty strict watch over us. i
lut I could see Nelly, and hear her 4
-cad her chapter; and even when it
sas one with a long list of hard i
tames, such as the master was very
'ond of giving her, to show how well
ihe could hit them off without s
ipelling, I thought I had never heard
t prettier music. Now and then she
-cad other things. I did not know I
vhat they were, true or false; but I t
istened because she read; and, by t
md by, I began to wonder, I
,ven spoke to her to ask her (as t
we were coming out of school) who s
was the Father of whom she had been
eading, for when she said the words J
'Our Father," her voice dropped
nto a soft, holy kind of low sound, a
which struck me more than any loud
reading, it seemed so loving and
:ender. When I asked her this, she
ooked at me wi:h her great blue I
vondering eyes, at first shocked; and f
then, as it were, melted down into 1
pity and sorrow, she said in the same
way, below her breath, in which she
read the words "Our Father,"
"Don't you know? It is God." 1
''GAd?"t
'Yes the God that Grandmother I
"Tell me what she says, will you?-' J
So we sat down on the hedge-bank, t
the a little above me, while I looked
ip in her face, and she told me all i
he holy texts her grandmother had <
aught her, as explaining all that 1
ould be explained of the Almighty. 1
istene d in silenc , for, indeed, I i
>db t
:i owledge; she was too young for
nach more; but we, in Lancashire,
peak a r. igh kind of Bible language, c
nd the tt..t seemed very clear to me.
. rose up, dazed and overpowered. I
was going away in silence, when I
>ethougiht me of my manners, and I
urned back, and said, "Thank you,"
61- the first time I ever remember s
aying it in my life. That was a e
;reat day for me, in more ways than d
ne. h
I was always one who could keep t
-erv steady to all object when once p
had set it before Inc. My object s
ras to knio.w Nellyv. I was consci- u
aus of nothing more. But it made e
ne regardless of all things. The I
naster might scold, the little ones r
night laugh; I bore it without giving r
t a second thought. I kept to my b
car, and came out a reader and writ. u
r; more, however, to stand well in tl
elly's good opinion, than because of a
ny oath. About this time, my father q
omomitted some cruel deed, and had fi
o fly the country. I was glad he v
1e nt; for I had never loved or cared
or him. and wanted to shake myself 1
lear of his set. lint it wvas nio easy 1
nlatter. lionest folk stood1 aloof; on.-i
y bad inen held out their arms to me a
withi a welcomie. Even Nelly seem-e
d to have a mixture of fear now with I
er kind ways toward me. I was the r,
oni of Middleton, w'ho, if lie were e
au ght, woul bo hung at Lancas
er- Castle. I1 thought she looked at 2
ne somletimies with a sortI of sor-row-.
all ho'rrori. Others were not for-u
~enming enough to keep their expr-es. ~
~on of feeling confinled to looks. The fi
on of the overlooker at the mnill ney- r
r cease-d t witting mel with my fath!- h
r's cime; lie now brought uip his
oachinlg against him, though I know t
ecry well how ma~ny a good supper t
eC himself hadl matde on0 game which b
ad beeni giv~en him to make him andv
ue faither wink at hate hours ini the i
norning. A nud how weio such as tny r
outhuer to comnu huonestly by game?v
This lad, Dic-k Jackson, was thep
utne oh imy life. 11I0 was a year ort
wo obler than! I was, andu hadl mnuch c
tower- tver the imien who wor-ked at i
Ihe u mi. as h c oulId report to his fatth
ir what ho chuo('se. I could not alwaysy
nsh d u1 ' pece whe hI "l 10'threupod i
lie wit I' may father :'s sins, but gave itr
ime-k some1 times ini a storm of p assion.
Lt did mnuo 11 ood :; ontly throew mo0e
arther frm the cr 'llpanuy of better
non!, wvho looked aghast an~d shiookedr
it thu oaithi I poutrod ouit----blas~plo. I
nlouis wor-ds learnt in moy chilldhoodh, I
shich I could not forgot now that I
would fain hunvq puillod myself of
1hem ; while aill thme limo Dick Jackson Ia
toodhv., wmid a mocnt miln of itel.. I
;ence; and when I had ended, breath
ess and weary with spent passion,
ie would turn to those whose respect
longed to earn, and asked if.I were
ot a worthy son of my father, and
ikely to tread in his steps. But this
wiling indifference of his to my mis
irable vehemence was iot all, though
t was the worst part. of his con.
luct, for it made the rankling hatred
row up in my heart, and oversbadow
t like the great gourd-tree of the
)rophet Jonah. ButL his was a mer
:iful shade, keeping out the burning
an; mine blighted what it fell upon.
What Dick Jackson' did besides,
ras this, His father vs a skilful over
ooker, and a good man; Mr.,Peel val.
ied him so much, that he was kept on,
Lthough his henkth was, failing; and
vhen he was unable' thirough illness,
o come to the roill,}he deputed his
on to watch o'ere andreport the men.
t was too mui poyer.' for one so
oung. I speak it cali.ly now. What
,ver Dick Jackson acrne, he had
trong temptations Wub'en, he was
noung, which will be hllowe4 for here
ifter. But at tie time of which I am
elling, my hate raged llke k fire. I
yelioved that he 'vas the one sole ob
tacle to my being rdceived as fit to
nix with good and ..oneat men. I
eras sick of crime and :dsorder, and
mould fain have .co over to a
ifferont kind of _'? nd have
een industrious nest, and
ight-spoken, (I -idea of
iigher virtue then Yery turn
Dick Jackson met om,,i sneers.
E have walked theti r l h, in
ho old abbey.Q - I
ould out-him, : ec
n spite of him~z
wver prayed t t f
ent stars, kn
valls, t
og Go,
j'A'
I had hit prayed earnest.
y, God wob4 ttve me what I asked
or, and I looked upon it as a kind of
hance for the fulfilment of my wish.
s. If earnestness would have won
ho boon for me, never were wicked
ords so earnestly spoken. And oh,
ter on, my prayer was heard, and
oy wish granted! All the time I
aw little of Nelly. Her grandmoth
r was failing, and she had much to
o in doors. Besides, I believe I
ad read her looks aright, when I took
hem to speak of aversion; and I
lanned to hide myself from her
ight, as it were, until I could stand
pright before men, with forless
yes, dreading no face of accusation.
t was possible to acquire a good cha.
acter; I would do it--I did it; but
o one brought up among respcctn
le, untempted people can tell the
aspeakable hardness of the task. in
be evening I would not go forth
mong the village throng; for the ac.
uaintances that claimed me were my
ather's old associates, & those who
could have shunned me & kept aloof,
rere the steady & orderly. So I staid
i doors, and practiced myself in rend.
g. You will say I should have found
e asier to earn a good character
way from Sawley, at some place
there neither I nor my father was
nowr.. So I should; but it would
ot have been the same thing to my
aind. Beside, representing all good
men, all goodness te me, in Sawley
f'elly lived. In her sight I would
pork out my life, and fight my way
*pward to men's respect. Two years
assedl on. Every day I strove
ercoly; every dlay my struggles were
lade fruitless by the son ot the over
>oker; aiid I seemed but where I
las; but where I must ever be es
Domed by all who knew me, but as
he son of the criminal; wild, reck
ass, ripe for crime myself. Where
ras tihe use of m~y reading and writ.
Fig? Theso acqmirements wetre dis
egarded and scoutedl by those among
thomn I was thrust back to take my
ortion. I could havo read any chop
er in the Bible now; and Nelly seom-.
d as though Hho would never know
t. I was driven ini upon miy boo0ks;
nd few enough of them I had. Tfhe
edlars brought them round ini their
acks, and 1 bought what I coul. I
ad the "Soeven Champions," and1( time
Pilgrim's Progress;'' and both seemn
d to mue equally wonderful, aind
qually founidedl on fact. I got By
on's "Narrative,'" and~ "Mlton''s
'aradiso Lost;" but I lacked the
:owlodgo which would give a cluo to
.11. Still they afforded meo leasure,
recauso they took me oult of' myself,
n~d made me uinconscious (for the
imo at least,) of' my onme groai [nn.L
tion of hatred against Dick Jackson.
When Nelly was about seventeen
her grandmother died. I stood aloof
in the churchyard, behind the great
yew tree, and watched the funeral. It
was the first religious service that
ever I heard; and, to my shame as I
thought, it affected me to tears. 'Tlhe
words seemed so peaceful and hol
that I longed to go to church, but
I durst not, because I had never
been. The parish church was at
Bolton, far enough away to servo as
an excuse for all who did not care to
go. I heard Nelly's sobs filling
up every pause in the clergyman's
voice; and every sob of hers went to
my heart. She passed me on her
way out of the churchyard; she was
so near I might have touched her;
but her head was hanging down, and
I durst not speak to her. Then the
question arose, what was to become
of her? She must earn her living;
was it to be as a farm servant, or by
working at the mill ? I knew en
ough of both kinds of life to make
me tremble for her. My wages were
such as to enable me to marry, if I
chose; and I never thought of woman
for my wife, but Nelly. Still I
would not have married her now, if
I could; for, as yet, I had not risen
up to the character which I determ
ined it was fit that Nelly's husband
should have. When I was rich in
good report, I would come forwards,
and take my chance; but until then,
I would hold my peace. I had faith
in the power of my long-continued
dogged breasting of opinion. Soon
or later, it should triumph, I 1 be re
ceived among the ranks of good men.
.at-meanwhile; what was to become
e reckoned lip. as;
one of th'o most' ' tie ' e
place; she looked at me suspiciously.
I kept down my temper, and told her
I would never come near'the place;
that I would keep away from that
end of the village; and that the girl
for whom I made the inquiry should
never know but what the parish paid
for her keep. It would not do; she
suspected me; but Jknow I had pow
er over myself to have kept to my
word; and besides, I would not for
worlds have had Nelly put under any
obligation to me, which should speck
the purity of her love, or dim it by a
mixture of gratitude-the love that
I craved to earn, not for my money,
not for my kindness, but for mysolf.
I heard that Nelly had met with a
place in Rolland; and I could see no
reason why I might nt speak to her
once before she left our neighborhood.
I meant it to be a quiet friendly tell
ing her of my sympathy in her sor
row. I felt Icould command myself.
So, on the Sunday before she was to
leave Sawlev, I waited near the wood
path, by which I knew that she would
return from afternoon church. The
birds made such a melodious whrble
such a busy scund among tho leaves,
that I did not hear apiproachuing' foot
steps, till they were close at hand;
and there were sounds of two persons
voices. Tfhe wood was near that part
of Sawley where Nelly was staving
with friends; the path through it led
to their house, and their's only), so I
kne w it must be she, for 1 hadl watch
ed her setting out to church alone.
But who was the other ?
The blood went to my heart and
heard, as if' I were shot, when I saw
that it wvas Dick Jackson. W~as this
the end of it all ? In the steps of
sin which my father had trode, I
would rush to may (denth and my
(loom. Even where I stood I longe~d
for a weapen to slay him. llow
dared he come near my Nelly 7 She
too-i thought her faithless, and
forgot how little I had ever been in
outward action; how few words, and
those how ncouth. I had ever spoken
to hecr; and I hated her as a traitress.
These feelings passced through me be
fore I could sco, my eyes and head
were so di;ZZy and blind. When I
looked Isatw D)ickc Jackson holding
her hand, and speaking quick and
low, and thick, as a mnitt speaks. in
great vehemnce. She seemed white
and' dismayed; but all at onice, at
some w~ord of his, (anud what it was
she never would tell me,) sho lookod
as thoughi she0 dleed a tiend, wrench
ed herself out of his grasp. lie
caught hoid of her again, and began
onco more the thiek whisper that I
loathed. Icould hear it no longer,
nor did I see why I1 should,.1 ten.
ped out from behind the tree where
I had been lying. When she saiv
me she lost her look of one strung up
to desperation, and came and etung
to me; and I felt like a giant in
strength and might. lheld her with
one arm, but I did not take my eyes
off him; I felt as if they blazed down
into his soul, and searched him up
He never spoke, but tried to look as
though he defied me; at last his eves
fell bofore mine. I dared not speak;
for the old horrid oaths thronged up
to my mouth : and dreaded giving
them way, and terrifying my poor
trembling Nelly.
At last he made to go past tme; I
drew her out of the pathway. By in
stinct she wrapped her garments round
her, as it to avoid hisaccidental touch;
and he was stung by this, I believe- -
to the mad, miserable revenge he took.
As my back turned to him, in an en.
deavor to speak some words to Nelly,
that might soothe her into cahonmtehs,
she, who was looking after him, like
one fascinated with terror, saw him take
a sharp shaley stone, and aim it at me.
Poor darling! she clung round me as a
shiel, making her sweet body into a
defense for mine. It hit her, and shc
spoke no word, kept back her cry of
pain, but fell at my feet in a swoon. Ile,
the coward, ran off as soon an he saw
what he had done. I was with Nelly
alone in the green gloom of the wood.
The quivering and leaf-tinted light
made her look as ifshe were dead. I car.
ried her, not knowing if I bore a corpse
or not, to her friend's house. I did not
stay to explbin, but ran madly for the
doctor.
Well! I cannot bear to recur to that
agaiu. Five weeks I lived in the agony
of suspense, from which my only religf
was in laying savage plans for revenge.
If hasted -himbefore,..-what .thinksye
tdicketw ip dygmps s~nh aulerot
very waltt ; h ! he sic.nin'oTmjgy
heart; Nelly grow better; as well as aim
was ever to grow. The bright color had
left her cheek; the mouth quivered with
repsessed pain; the eves were dim with
tears that agony had ibrced into them;
and I loved her a thousand times better
and more than when she was bright and
blooming: What was best of all, I be
gan to perceive that she cared for me.
I know her grandmother's friends warn.
ed her against me, and told her I came
of a bad stock; but she had passed the
point where remonstance from bystand.
urs can take effect; she loved me as I was
a strange mixture at bad and good, all
unworthy of her. We spoke together
now as those do whose lives are bound
up in each other. I told her I would
marry her as soon as she had reoover.
edl her health. Heor friends shook their
heads, but they saw she would be unfit
for farm-service or heavy work, and
they pet Iaps thought, as many a one
does, that a had husband was better than
none at all. Any how, we were marri.
ed; and I learned to bless God for my
hnppiness, so far beyond my deserts. 'I
kept her like a lady. I was a skillful
workman, and ea rued good wages; and
every want she had I triedu to grattifv.
bier wishes were few and simple enoug'h,
poor Nelly! I fthey hat been ever so
fdanci ful, I shuoiu tiave had my re wiard
in the new feeling of the hiolinetss cf
htomi. She could head me na a little
child, with the charm of liar gentle.
voice and her ever kinds. She would
plead for all w hen I was full of tinger
and passion; only [ick Jackson's name
passed never between our lips during
mall that tie. lIn the evenning she lay
back in tier hee hive chiir, antd readt
:o me. I t hink I see her now, pate nnd
wrok, with her sweet, y'oung faee,
l ighte'd by h er holy, earnist ey'.s, tell.
inug mceof the Navior's life and d.'nth,
tilt they wern filled1 with tears. I long.
ed to have been tncre, to have a vengedl
tun on the wicked Jews. I liked Po
te r thle best of allt the dlisci ples. But I
uot the Bibtle m'ysel f, ant rendt t he'act of
(Gid's vengeance in the Ohl Tlestamnent,
with a kind of triumphant faith that,
sooner or later, I Ie would tatko iv cause
in handru, and revenge me on iiio one.
m'v.
In a year or .so, Nelly hind a bb
little girl, with eves just hiko hers, thai
lo~oke d with ti grove openness right lint
yours. Nelly recovered but slowly.
It was .inst befo winter-; the cotton.
orop had fatiled, und mast.'r liad to turn,
ott mnaiy hiands. I tthought I was aure
of being kept on, for I had eaurned a
stondy character, and didt my work welt;
buiit onee nig ain it wa's permit ted t hat
Dick Jackson should do mue w ron'g. lie
ind!uced his hithter to d ismniss mn1 aimong
the first in rmy brranch of the butsines4;
ami thters wtas I, just before winter st
in, with a wvi fo and nowbhorn ohild, uand
a small en'ug~h sttore of monny to keep
bodly and sotuh togethat tIll I could get
to work anenin. All my. avings lii
gonn by Christmas Eve, arid ava
In the house foodlessa far ihe tmorro
fTs.iYul. rlyolly olJ.inchepd
worn; the pr leernclarger sau
ply of milk than its Kor, sirving mot~
cr could uivo It. . Myrigt hand had
not iorgot its- ounninks and .I went -ot
once more to my poaching. I knee
where the gang ret, and I know whyt
a welcome rhnck f bihold hove-.a -Ia '
wuarm.r tajzd m)oreJensity ivelcome thua
good men had given me when I trled
to enter their rnimlf,. On the road to 1he
mee:ing-pouce I fell in with an old mao
-one who had been'a companion to my.
father in his early days. .
" What; l~ii!" saidi "sort thou tuia
ing back to the old tradet It's the bet.
her businnras, now that cotton ban failed,'
"Ay," said I, "c6ltfn Is starving ds
nutright. A rnan may hear a deal ilk..
sif, but lie' do aughtlhid and sinful t
save his wife and child A
"Nay, Iad," said he,"poaching Is not *
sinlul; it goes againtLman's laws bus
not against God's."
I was too weak to a'gue or talk muc.,
I ha4 not ta.ted. food for two days. But
imu rmured.,,At any rate,-Jtrusted ta
have been clear of :it Jdr the. rest .of my
days. It led my father wrong at frst.
I have tried and I have st-riven; Now
I-give all up. Right dr '*rong shall be
the same to me. Some are fore..dool.
ed; and so am 1."' sik as gl sc.
some notion of the futurity that would
separate Nelly, the pure andholy, from
re, -the reckless" and -desperate onea .0
tame over me with -an irrepressible
burst of anguish. Just "then the bella
of Bolton-in-Bollsnd - struck ups a el
peal, which came oveF'the woods, In t* .
soleint nidiight ai 1iko the saoti"'t
the morning shoutgb for joy---hey
seemed so clear s jan .nt. . It ws
Christmas.Day, and I. like an outeao
. from, the gladness-, and tho salvation.
Old'Jonah' sjioke out: 11.
harttet 8(
leisure for nj h r.
ever, of taking 'bettei
paupers, they. seek to. take cared(
our. negroes; and in doing so, they
meddle withy matters which do not
concern them at all. They are pet
fectly nervous. e tidea of compel.t
ling human beings to labor without
recompence, while if they would pon.
slt their statti lse they. would
Cnd !Mtt in many of heir States they
force poor whito.men into a state of
slavery which. is quite tai, odious as
black slavery. Asn- an instance in
point, we make htextract froxia-n
article in the February No; of Dega
ocratic Review, which contains a' re3
ply to a letter of the editor addrfsed
to an eminent citizen of Connectioe,
asking info/matibn as to the law n
relation to "the bidding off of 'pi
yors.", The following is the reply:
"It is the custom innany towsim
Connecticut, to''etu ih6 paupets at
auction every year, and knock then
off to the lowest bidder.-that is, to
the man who wvill take -thorn for-the
year, at the lowest palee. This w#
the case to my knowledge in sae" -
countries. I have always understood
it to be a general -thing in Connecti
cut WVhen we were in H. they we
sold to the i nh~r :fsixty for o~
year to our- next doon neighbor far
15 dollars-a head, and he got all the
work out of them that lhe could though
most of them weio~infirm and r9t a.
ble tb do i,. 'Mhy hoed his cora
anid sawved his wod zand. weeded his
garden; and beingan ixten'shve Ah.
erman, they assisted in dressi~ j
fish,. and -"did: chores" geuerafly
They are made to work alltsthe
made to work all that they are dblq.
In TI. the cont ctor,a' 1sald, l
a fisherman, and during -the - *ii
season, a principal'a-rticle of foodt
the paupers was the headd and tailWot
shad, which were gt o hen drete~d
for salting. :They; were aill odgi ~n
a little eone storf housed with en attic
not to exceed 25 bh30 feet, and w
all stored in togot leinale intg
male, with;~ as appeared tQ me, ary
little'regardtto dloes ryAdn case of
the deah'o
t~r.got a nipo~l~ u1' bW
wvhole ainonut tweryed Fr
year; indeed Pblb h3po~
dgnth of shind z& l
gency calula~ 4p mkin
bid; s that--the oo~uh ator 1had -
recTintereist in str~ them to'deat
or in neglegtjo t)e~y~ a~
'his Isswhite slaioetyswith a d
ganaMd~funa nomaan
i 0 . n