"He Is The Filthiest Beast In The Township," Said The
Afore-Mentioned Neighbour To Me; "It Would Be A Good Thing For His
Wife And Children If His Worthless Neck Were Broken In One Of His
Drunken Sprees."
This might be the melancholy fact, but it was not the less dreadful
on that account.
The husband of an affectionate wife - the father of
a lovely family - and his death to be a matter of rejoicing! - a
blessing, instead of being an affliction! - an agony not to be
thought upon without the deepest sorrow.
It was at this melancholy period of her sad history that Mrs. N - -
found, in Jenny Buchanan, a help in her hour of need. The heart of
the faithful creature bled for the misery which involved the wife
of her degraded master, and the children she so dearly loved. Their
want and destitution called all the sympathies of her ardent nature
into active operation; they were long indebted to her labour for
every morsel of food which they consumed. For them, she sowed, she
planted, she reaped. Every block of wood which shed a cheering
warmth around their desolate home was cut from the forest by her
own hands, and brought up a steep hill to the house upon her back.
For them, she coaxed the neighbours, with whom she was a general
favourite, out of many a mess of eggs for their especial benefit;
while with her cheerful songs, and hearty, hopeful disposition,
she dispelled much of the cramping despair which chilled the heart
of the unhappy mother in her deserted home.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 538 of 670
Words from 145578 to 145843
of 181664
