- - 
 
 : I | j 
 
 1 I 
 
 

 
 EFFIE AND I; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SEVEN TEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 
 
 IF 1 ran s3>isriDiLiiB 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. CHARLOTTE S. HILBOURNE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 PRINTED BY ALLEN AND FARNHAM. 
 1863.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 
 
 MRS. CHARLOTTE S. HILBOURNE, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
 
 THIS 
 
 LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 OWNERS AND OPERATIVES OF COTTON MILLS, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 KATE STANTON'S PREFACE. 
 
 DEAR PUBLIC : 
 
 ROSA was going to tell you in a preface, how she got 
 her " Cotton Mill " started. But, I said, not a bit of it, 
 Rosa, for it will take my ' World ' and all the power and 
 magic of my pen, to do justice to those kind Cambridge 
 gentlemen, who furnished the capital for that little work- 
 shop. 
 
 My " World" will get a jog by-and-by, and some will 
 find themselves in the shadow, and some in the broad 
 golden sunlight, right beside those good Cambridge gen- 
 tlemen, only a good way behind, and some will go to 
 verdure. So, Mr. Public, if you want to find yourself in 
 a favorable light, and conspicuous place, just be liberal in 
 patronizing the firm of " Effie and I" and Co. % in their 
 travels through Uncle Sam's domains. It is just the 
 book for everybody, and nothing can eclipse it but my 
 " World," Longfellow excepted. It will cure the hypo
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 and all disagreeable sensations in the head, by laughing 
 you into convulsions or a healthful perspiration, which 
 will prove more effectual than all the doctor's bags and 
 bills in Christendom. I ain't sure but what it will put 
 down rebeldom, and send all secesh to the Shampeaceso 
 territories, or the Pee-wee Islands. At any rate, it will 
 work wonders in camp-life, and tell them that cotton 
 ain't dead at the North, although he can't be king of 
 rebeldom. Exit. 
 
 KATE STANTON.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION, . . . 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 My Childhood's Home. Family Joys and Bereavements. A 
 Deathbed Scene, . . . . . . ... . .11 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 The Burial. An unbidden Guest. The Cross and the Crown, 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Our Home without a Mother, . . . . . .23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Our Brother's Dream. His Guide through the Forest. Her 
 Castle Home, . . . ' , 28 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Separations. Visit of two Young Ladies from Lowell. 
 Their glowing Descriptions of Factory Life. My Resolve 
 and Trials, . . .37
 
 Vlii CONTENTS. 
 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 My Journey to Lowell. The Arrival. First Impressions. 
 First Introduction into the Boarding-house and Cotton Mill, 44 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Letters from Home. Malta's Marriage. Sudden Death of our 
 Father. My Treasure. A Brother's Grave, . . .50 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Our last Brother dies in New Orleans. The Sacrilege in our 
 Childhood's Home. Minnie's Marriage. Lula with me in 
 .Lowell, 57 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Return to the Scenes of my Childhood. Lula's Home. Matta's 
 Bereavements. Lula's Letters ; her Frank is dying, . .64 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Death of Lula's Cherub Boy. Her Husband's triumphant Death. 
 Her Home made Desolate, ....... 70 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I return to the Spindle City. Changes in No. 10, A Pleasant 
 Companion. Little Weeping Willow, 76 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Effie Lee's glowing Description of her Childhood's Home. Es- 
 quire Stoneheart's Paupers, 82
 
 CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Effie's Parents commence the Privations of Pauperism under the 
 Auspices of Alexander Stoneheart, Esq. An unexpected 
 Friend, i . . . .89 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Angelica Stoneheart's Casket of Treasures. Taken by Surprise. 
 
 Esquire Homer's Gift of Glen Cottage to the Lees, . . 95 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Life's Changes. The Lees in Glen Cottage. The Fearful Visi- 
 tant. Effie and her Brother alone, 102 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Effie's Brother becomes a Student. His sudden Death. Effie 
 alone and Homeless. Resorts to a Cotton Mill. Kate Stan- 
 ton's Debut, 108 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Effie becomes a Factory Girl. Kate Stanton taking Lessons in < 
 the Mysteries of Woman's Rights, 114 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Kate Stanton gone to the Wild-woods. Effie becomes a Bride. 
 
 Her happy Leave-taking, 120 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Changes in No. 10. Preparations for the Eastham Camp-meet- 
 ing. Sister Lula's departure to the Spirit-world. Visit to 
 my Mother's Grave. Effie's Heart is breaking, . . .125
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Kate Stanton's Visit. Her Tour through Maine. Description 
 of Heatherton Hall and Willow Dale, 132 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Kate Stanton's unexpected Meeting with Effie Lee. They Jour- 
 ney together, 138 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Kate's Arrival at the Old Hall. The Coachman thinks she is 
 from the Southward, and mistakes her Baggage for Log Cabins. 
 Aunt Heatherton's cordial Greeting. Kate's fears and pleas- 
 ant Surprise. Her Mother's Bridal Chamber. - The Family 
 Portraits, ; ... 143 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Kate in the ancestral Chair. Her Vision. Is taken for a Rap- 
 ping Medium. Her Aunt's Horror of Spiritualists. Kate's 
 Fun-loving Spirit aroused, . .. ... . . .150 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Kate's wild Freaks: Her Aunt's History of the Lees. Her 
 Prediction verified. Planning a Visit to Effie, . . . 158 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 On the way to Glen Cottage. The Tomb of the Heathertons. 
 Effie found senseless upon her Mother's Grave. Little Charley 
 joyfully recognizes Kate. Effie restored to Consciousness. 
 Aunt Heatherton the Good Samaritan, 165
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Effie denied Kepose in Glen Cottage. Aunt Heatherton's Balm. 
 The New Home, . , .; ; - : . . .172 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Effie in Heatherton HalL Her Prostration and Kecovery. 
 Giving a History of her Love and Desertion, . . . 176 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Effie's Flight from her treacherous Husband. Is denied admission 
 to the Home of a former Friend. Her Rescue and Relief, . 184 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Effie's unexpected Meeting with Kate Stanton at the Wayside 
 Inn. They Journey together. Her Reception at Glen Cot- 
 tage. Going to colonize the Pee-wee Islands, . . .15?) 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Kate Stanton's Soliloquy. The World upside down. Going to 
 set a Peg or two loose, to give the Great Wheel a jog the right 
 way. Aunt Heatherton's Fears for Kate's Sanity. Kate 
 leaves Heatherton Hall, 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Kate's Journey to the Spindle City. She visits old Associates. 
 Her Reception at Col. G 'a Country-seat, . . . .201 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A Factory Girl's Home, 206
 
 Xii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Kate visits Lotty Elton in the Old Granite State. Her Story. 
 Mira Grandby going to Aunt Boston's, 114 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Mira Grandby's Visit at Aunt Boston's, and what came of it, . 220 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Lott/s Letter to Mira Grandby. Her Vindication of Factory 
 Girls, . V ......... 226 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Mira Grandby weds an Aristocrat. He proves a Gambler and 
 Spendthrift. At last deserts Her, 232 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Kate on an Exploring Expedition. She makes a Discovery. 
 Her Signs of a Good Husband, 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Rosa back again to the Spindle City, 246 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Kate Stanton's Christmas. Aunt Heatherton's Letter. Effie's 
 Bridal. Conclusion, . . . . . . . .251
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 mHE NINETEENTH of April, 1861. How 
 -- white, and thick, and fast the snow came down. 
 How merrily it flew through the air, and danced Yankee 
 reels, to the shrill pipings of old Boreas, upon the broad 
 pavements. How sly and saucily it kissed the cold 
 cheeks of bachelor pedestrians, reminding them of loving 
 lips and dimpled cheeks, in the long, long ago. How 
 the restless school-boy shouted and floundered in the 
 feathery wreaths, laughing in high glee, at the mischief 
 those fairy revellers were making with his sister's sunny 
 ringlets, twining a wreath of fantastic beauty around 
 her fair young brow. 
 
 It was a regal gala day with old dame Nature ; her 
 winding-up season ball. Nobody in the City of Spindles 
 ever witnessed such a carnival as that which dame 
 
 Nature held on the 19th of April, 1861. All Lowell 
 i
 
 a INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was astir too ; far above the shrill piping and blustering 
 of old Boreas, came the loud, hasty war-cry "To 
 arms ! to arms 1 " Every heart was athrob with pa- 
 triotism. Every soul was ignited with loyalty. Every 
 manly arm was ready to strike for freedom and the 
 right ; and every wife, mother, and sister were ready 
 for the sacrifice. 
 
 What shouts rent the air when the glorious Sixth, the 
 first to respond to the clarion call, the first to shed the 
 martyr's blood, the first to wear a martyr's crown, with 
 waving plumes and floating banners, went out from the 
 lofty archway of Huntmgton Hall station, led on by 
 the brave, heroic Butler, and his fearless lifeguards. 
 
 Who ever witnessed such a hasty response to the 
 bugle's call ! Such a kindling of patriotism ! Such a 
 mingling of brave hearts and sinewy arms, to protect 
 the glorious institutions of their native land. 
 
 It was a proud day for the mothers and daughters of 
 the Spindle City ; and even dame Nature put on her 
 gala robes, and danced and piped joyously, while she 
 twined her fantastic wreaths around the brows of those 
 brave and loyal volunteers. 
 
 My whole soul was gushing with enthusiasm for the 
 patriotic loyalty which characterized the noble sons of
 
 INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 the Spindle City, the city of my adoption ; when, like 
 a floating iceberg upon a tropical sea, Mrs. Allstone 
 and there are many Mrs. Allstones in every commu- 
 nity made her appearance, equipped for a leave- 
 taking and a journey. 
 
 " Where away, Mrs. Allstone ? " I inquired as she 
 settled herself most unceremoniously among my writing 
 materials and patriotic effusions, which the occurrences 
 of the day had called forth. 
 
 " Oh ! " she answered, " I am sick of this low, detes- 
 table Spindle City ; and I am determined to take up my 
 line of march, and flee from it, as Lot fled from the 
 doomed city of Sodom ; and I shah 1 be in no danger of 
 becoming petrified, as was his foolish wife, by looking 
 back with any desire to return to its vices and vanities." 
 
 " You are beside yourself, Mrs. Allstone," I an- 
 swered. " What mean you, by such unjust epithets 
 applied to our goodly city." 
 
 " What mean I, Mrs. Hartwell ? Ask the widow 
 who has been defrauded of her little competence, by 
 that wicked Dives who rides in his fur-lined carriage, 
 and gloats himself with the luxuries upon his sumptuous 
 table. 
 
 " Ask her fatherless children, who fain would satisfy
 
 4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 their cravings of hunger with the crumbs that fall 
 unheeded at his feet. 
 
 " Ask those, wfcose shivering, half-clad forms, in vain 
 .-seek the warmth of the expiring embers to relax the 
 palsied limbs, and stir the life-current which moves with 
 the sluggishness of death through the half frozen 
 .thoroughfares of the heart. 
 
 " Ask that deserted wife, who, in her desolate and 
 comfortless abode, bends anxiously and tearfully over 
 her suffering child, bathing his parched lips with her 
 fond kisses ; cooling his fevered brow with the tears that 
 gush forth from her agonized heart ; never relaxing her 
 watchful vigil through the long, lone night hours, lest 
 her darling babe, in his fevered restlessness, expose his 
 tender limbs to the cold, chilling atmosphere of her com- 
 fortless chamber. 
 
 " Listen to her anguished heart-throbbings, and half- 
 frenzied invocations to the God of the friendless, ming- 
 ling with the night dirges which sweep in moaning 
 response back to her widowed heart. 
 
 " Ask her faithless husband, who, all unheedful of 
 their wrongs and sufferings, lavishes his smiles and his 
 gold alike upon the vile partner of his guilty desertion ; 
 casting aside as a thing of naught the holy bonds of
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 his marriage vows ; the pure and holy love of a truthful 
 heart, a father's godlike responsibility, and the elevat- 
 ing and ennobling position which they command in the 
 world. All these are as naught, while the voice of his 
 guilty syren lures him on, on, blinded by her fiendish 
 fascinations to destruction and death. 
 
 " Ask the debauchee, who hastens to his infamous 
 resort with the last dime, for which his children are< 
 starving or freezing in the pitiless blast ; and the horde 
 of wretched creatures whose gay robes sweep flaunt- 
 ingly through the streets, divested of the pure shining 
 circlet with which Virtue designates her children ; and 
 see the long train of blinded votaries which follow, and 
 their name is legion. Ask those who hold the scales 
 of law and power, and controvert that of justice, what 
 I mean. 
 
 " Then go into those living tombs, those slave-palaces, 
 and see the pale, shrinking, overtasked thousands, 
 toiling on, year after year, for the mere pittance to 
 prolong a miserable existence, and for what? 
 
 " To fill the coffers of the wealthy capitalists, and 
 rear marble palaces for their aristocratic sons and 
 daughters, who would not deign to have them touch the
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 hem of their golden drapery, lest it should be polluted 
 by their plebeian proximity." 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Allstone, you have got off a long yarn, 
 without the aid of ' Roper,' or ' Spinning Jenny.' But 
 
 I must contend, that you have given only the dark side 
 
 
 of the picture. 
 
 * 
 
 " Your Dives, or his counterpart, will be found in 
 'almost every city and clime in the wide world ; and so 
 will be his wronged and suffering victims. But they, 
 like Lazarus of old, will at last find a resting-place in 
 Abraham's bosom, while Dives is famishing for a drop 
 of water to cool his burning tongue. 
 
 " And the husband, who would desert a true and 
 faithful wife in the City of Spindles, would, if in para- 
 dise, desert the fairest daughter of Eve to follow the 
 fascinating trail of the hissing serpent into a thicket of 
 thorns. 
 
 " Lowell is not a paradise, I will admit ; yet there 
 is much of good illuminating and spanning, like the 
 bow of hope and promise, the dark picture you have 
 presented to my view. To me it seems an asylum for 
 the oppressed, a home for the homeless, and a broad 
 highway leading to wealth and honor. 
 
 " The influence of the Spindle City is felt throughout
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 almost the entire universe. It is one of the main- 
 springs which moves the great wheel of enterprise and 
 commerce. 
 
 " Food and clothing have gone out from her portals 
 to the starving sons and daughters of the Emerald Isle, 
 as though they had been brothers and sisters of the 
 same paternal roof. 
 
 " Kansas, bleeding, famishing, and dying, has revived 
 again, and put on her beautiful garments of hope and 
 strength, when the full-freighted ship has neared her 
 borders, which Lowell has contributed to send forth to 
 her aid. 
 
 " And this is not all. Lowell has sent out, and not 
 stintily, the bread of life to far distant India. And 
 from what you have termed ' slave-palaces,' ' living 
 tombs,' have gone out missionaries, ministers, lawyers, 
 doctors, poets, and artists, that will compare, nay, com- 
 pete, with many that have been reared in the hot-beds 
 of affluence and ease. And, may-be, our nation's future 
 president is even now the little sooty bobbin-boy, bash- 
 fully going his rounds in that humble capacity. 
 
 " Ask them where they received their first inspira- 
 tions, and they will tell you amidst the clattering of 
 machinery in the busy Spindle City.
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " Call it not a life of oppression, while the rose-tinted 
 cheek, and beaming eye, glows with animation and 
 happiness ; while the elastic, graceful step, the light, 
 joyous song, the clear silvery laugh, tell not of laborious 
 toil, or wearying care. 
 
 " Ask that widowed mother, in some obscure country 
 town, who, perhaps, for months and years has been a 
 helpless invalid, what has brought back the light of 
 happiness to her eye, the glow of health to her cheek, 
 and the smile to her lips ; and she will tell you, that, away 
 in the busy Spindle City, her fatherless children have 
 found a home, and are steadily acquiring a competence 
 for all their need. 
 
 " The capitalists, whom you have designated proud 
 and aristocratic, are truly their benefactors. 
 
 " Visit the hundreds of large, commodious factory 
 boarding-houses, and see the poor widows, with their 
 fatherless children installed there, surrounded by every 
 comfort, while their children are receiving an education 
 which will fit them for any position, however honorable, 
 in life. And when panics and famines, and other 
 calamities, have visited the land, have these wealthy 
 factory capitalists crushed these poor widows with an 
 iron heel, or ground the faces of the poor into the dust 
 of the earth ?
 
 INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 " No ; through the long cold winters they have 
 lived securely in their factory homes, rent free. Not a 
 tithe has been demanded from the widow or her little 
 competence to swell the purse of the millionaire, till 
 prosperity again visits the land. 
 
 " Yes, ah yes, your ' slave-prisons,' and ' charnel- 
 houses,' are the very life-springs of the whole universe. 
 Let some formidable panic stop the evolutions of the 
 great wheel of manufacture in our Spindle City, and, 
 like electricity, the effects of that result reaches from 
 pole to pole. 
 
 " The factory system is not, as you have hinted, 
 demoralizing in its tendency. Its every regulation 
 strictly .prohibits immorality, and demands of every 
 operative a strict observance of the Sabbath and its 
 holy institutions. Vice and immorality are not engen- 
 dered by the wholesome laws and discipline of factory 
 life. 
 
 " Many who have come here vile and degraded, have 
 soon been led into the higher walks of virtue and 
 sobriety, by the kindly hand and angelic sympathy of 
 some of the good factory missionaries. 
 
 " Yes, amongst our operatives there are many mis- 
 sionaries, many good Samaritans, who are working for
 
 10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 God and eternity in that vast harvest-field ; the' result 
 of whose labors will only be known when the Father 
 judges and rewards the works of the faithful. 
 
 " A thousand times more truly are those men the 
 real benefactors of the widow, the orphan, and the poor 
 generally, than those who build almshouses, asylums, 
 and other institutions of charity ; where those who 
 enter eke out a miserable existence of dependent beg- 
 gary, instead of the competence acquired by their own 
 cheerful, enervating, and elevating industry, amidst the 
 clattering of machinery in the various departments of 
 factory operations. 
 
 " You look incredulous, Mrs. Allstone, but I will 
 prove to you that I have not exaggerated, by giving 
 you a sketch of my own experience of factory life within 
 this same, and to you, detestable City of Spindles."
 
 EFFIE AND I; 
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. FAMILY JOYS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 
 A DEATHBED SCENE. 
 
 THAT LITTLE brown cottage! How vividly 
 it rises to my view, nestled so quietly beneath the 
 shadowy branches of that wide-spreading oak ; and be- 
 neath it, on the green turf, are half a score of laughing, 
 rollicking boys and girls, singing, chatting, and romping, 
 from the silver-haired baby, to the rough blowsy boy 
 in his teens. 
 
 How they made the glens and woodlands send back 
 the mocking echo of their merriment, till it became 
 almost a scene of enchantment, peopled with invisible and 
 fairy-like revellers.
 
 12 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 Again I stand within the vast arena of those magnifi- 
 cent hills, where above and beneath, the mighty forests 
 throw their sombre shadows, or lift the glossy foliage of 
 their gigantic branches to the whispering zephyrs, whjch 
 float lazily along in a summer twilight, laden with the 
 rich fragrance gathered from the sweet fresh wild-flowers, 
 hidden beneath the tangled brushwood. 
 
 Again I listen, half-entranced, to the wild melody 
 gushing out from the forest vistas, sweet and soul-stir- 
 ring as the dulcet strains which vibrate upon a wind- 
 swept aeolian. 
 
 Again I look with admiration upon the broad lakes, 
 which lay side by side, like loving sisters, till their white- 
 crested wave, sweeping gracefully over the surface, min- 
 gle into one. 
 
 I follow the windings of the murmuring streams, half 
 hidden by shrubbery and lily-beds, laying like crests 
 of laurel and pearl upon the sparkling wave. 
 
 Again I see the broad fields, in the golden harvest 
 month, and listen to the songs of the happy reaper, 
 while he binds his heavy sheaves, or bears them in tri- 
 umph to his home sweet home. 
 
 I hear the lowing of the herds, and the bleating of the 
 flocks upon the adjacent hills, or sit spell-bound beneath 
 the broad harvest-moon, laying like a sheet of golden 
 lava upon our cottage home, and the adjacent wood- 
 lands ; where the owls " too-hoo" far away in the old
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 13 
 
 hollow he has chosen for his retreat, mingles in rough 
 cadence with the distant waterfall and the shrill chirp of 
 the harvest insects. 
 
 I see the old school-house upon the brow of the hill, 
 and hear the wild rush of childish feet and long pent up 
 mirthfulness, as one after another comes dashing and 
 bounding through the old porch like the frogs of Egypt, 
 impatient to destroy every impeding and opposing obsta- 
 cle before them. 
 
 Again I hear the dreamy tap tap tap of the 
 summer showers, falling upon the tufts of moss, 
 chucked here and there within the gaping crevices of 
 our own little brown cot, and see the bright sunbeams 
 shimmering playfully through the loose shingles, revel- 
 ling here and there in fantastic shapes, like a whole 
 troop of frolicksome fairies, upon the rough, unpainted 
 floor. 
 
 And the old oak-tree sways its branches to and fro 
 over the tufts of moss and gaping crevices, while be- 
 neath its deep foliage the lark chants his lay, and the 
 whippoorwill sings his plaintive good-night. 
 
 Again I see the bright wild-flowers spring up be- 
 neath the low hedge, and the soft breezes waft their 
 sweet aroma through the low casements, sprinkling here 
 and there their fresh perfume upon little knots of 
 shining curls, kissing in playful mood the fair white 
 
 brows half hidden beneath them. 
 2
 
 14 EFFIB AND I ; OR, 
 
 The silvery moonbeams never bathed the battlements 
 of a regal home more gorgeously or witchingly than 
 they did the moss-tufted roof of our own little cot. 
 
 And then the merry huskings, and apple-parings, and 
 quilting parties, and evening dances, where, with buoy- 
 ant step and lighter hearts, we danced away the long 
 autumn evenings, till the small hours chimed ominously 
 from the tall, old-fashioned clock in the hall. And then 
 the happy good-nights, as we left one after another of 
 our companions, till we reached our own quiet home, be- 
 neath the swaying branches of the old oak-tree. 
 
 Oh, yes ! I remember it now, when the long winter 
 evenings came ; then came the merry sleigh-bells to our 
 cottage door, till the rooms were filled with the comely 
 lads and lasses of Seclusivale, with viols, flutes, and fifes, 
 and voices all in tune for a right good old-fashioned sing. 
 ^)ur father was a music-teacher, and my mother, I 
 never heard her voice excelled, so clear, melodious, and 
 soul-stirring ; and then half a score of us beside, all 
 with voices which defied competition. Oh, how many, 
 many, many times, when I have sat, deserted and alone, 
 in my comfortless room, have my thoughts reverted to 
 those happy winter evenings in my childhood's home, 
 where the voices of music and gladness reverberated till 
 the forests and glens almost sent back an answering 
 response. 
 
 There were my parents, brothers, and sisters, eleven of
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 15 
 
 us all, and I did not dream that the links which bound us 
 together could be severed in the bright sunny days of 
 our beauty and youth. 
 
 The first great sorrow came like a dark, fearful shadow. 
 It fell alike upon our hearts and home. It was in the 
 harvest month, when the reapers were gathering the 
 yellow corn and full ripe sheafs into the garner. 
 
 When the summer flowers were fading and drooping, 
 one after another, from the parent stem ; when the fields 
 and forests were gorgeous with the rainbow hues the for- 
 est king had painted ; when the sky looked regal with 
 crimson and gold, mingled with the dark, heavy folds of 
 the threatening storm-cloud ; when the birds were chant- 
 ing their farewell songs in their summer bowers, and the 
 eold winds were sweeping relentlessly over the distant 
 mountains. 
 
 I remember it well ; it was one of those dreamy, hazy, 
 sunny days of autumn, that a group of friends and 
 neighbors were gathered in the little darkened chamber 
 where she lay, our sister, the eldest of our happy band. 
 
 A long while she had been drooping, till her slight 
 form seemed almost etherial, and her large blue eyes 
 beamed with a radiance so spiritual and holy, that, child 
 as I was, I felt awed with the angelic and heavenly ex- 
 pression which radiated every feature of her pale, wan 
 face. 
 
 Oh, she was beautiful as^he lay there, with her brow
 
 16 EFFIEANDi;OH, 
 
 clear and white as Parian marble, pressed against the 
 pillow, contrasting so strangely with the deep crimson 
 upon the wasted cheek, and the light which shone out 
 from the clear depths of her large blue eyes, partially 
 shaded by the long damp masses of golden curls, which 
 lay in careless negligence around her neck and brow. 
 
 Our parish minister was there too ; and his voice went 
 up in a heart-felt benediction to the Holy of Holies, for 
 her who lay just upon the verge of heaven ; beholding 
 even then with her spirit-vision the glories of the New 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 He sprinkled the baptismal waters upon her upturned 
 brow, and administered to her the emblems of a Saviour's 
 love. 
 
 Then they chanted a low sweet hymn, spoke to us 
 kindly words of sympathy, and a tearful farewell to the 
 dying one, and the room was left silent and vacant, save 
 only by the little band which yet remained unbroken. 
 
 A few days more passed away, and then she lay tran- 
 quil as marble in her death-robes. Death awed me ; 
 beautiful as she lay there, I could not look upon her ; 
 and I fled to my mother's room$ to pour out my first 
 sorrow upon her maternal bosom. 
 
 my mother ! my mother ! I never shall forget that 
 scene. There she knelt, pale as the death-form I had 
 fled from, in tearless and silent communion with God 
 and the freed spirit of hej; eldest born which was then
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 17 
 
 hovering over her, clothed in the beautiful garments of 
 sainted immortality. 
 
 I spoke not I moved not, for I felt that a holy 
 unction had fallen upon her and that home of death. 
 The hand of God was upon us ; and I then knew that it 
 was not in anger He had afflicted us, but in merciful 
 kindness. 
 
 2*
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BURIAL. AN UNBIDDEN GUEST. THE CROSS AND 
 THE CROWN. 
 
 THE D A Y of burial came ; and oh, I felt it was 
 a sacrilege to lay her, beautiful as she was, beneath 
 the cold, damp turf. 
 
 When the spring-time came again the trees bloomed 
 over her grave, and the wild flowers sprang up around 
 the raised turf : and then we sat there many an hour, 
 and talked of her, and sang the songs she loved to hear. 
 We nestled more closely together in our own home nest,. 
 Our mirthfulness was more subdued, our songs more 
 plaintive, and although a link was broken in our little 
 band, and we missed her sweet smiles and sisterly 
 counsellings, yet we mourned not without hope, for was 
 not one of us a white-robed angel, and were there not 
 many yet remaining to bind us to our earth-home, to 
 guide and cheer us through the sunny paths of childhood 
 and youth ? 
 
 And we thought, too, that the cravings of the death- 
 angel were appeased ; that not for many, many years, 
 would his bony fingers rap again at the door of our 
 happy, though humble home.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 19 
 
 Oar eyes were bright and sparkling, our cheeks round 
 and ruddy ; our songs gushed forth from lightsome 
 hearts ; our steps light and free as health and buoyancy 
 could make them. Oh, no, there was no more work for 
 the death-angel in our home. 
 
 Our mother's cheek grew paler and more wan, to be 
 sure ; her slight form, oh, so like a shadow ; but her 
 eyes were bright, her brow so serene, and we knew that 
 she prayed often, very often, to Him who had taken her 
 eldest born, in the bloom and beauty of youth, to become 
 an heir with Him, and joint heir with Jesus Christ, with- 
 in the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem. 
 
 But the death-angel would spare her ! he would not, 
 he could not, take her from us ! 
 
 Again it is autumn ; twice has the song of the reapers 
 floated out upon the evening breezes in the gulden har- 
 vest-month ; since the death-angel shattered the earth- 
 clogs, and our sister Olivia soared away to the higher 
 life in the city of our God. 
 
 Far away over the western hills the broad red sun is 
 sinking to repose beneath the rich drapery that hangs in 
 gorgeous festoons from the blue canopy above, throwing 
 a halo of beauty over hill and dale. 
 
 From the deep sombre recesses of the adjacent for- 
 ests comes the clear rich strains of the night-bird, 
 imparting a peaceful delight to the weary, and filling the 
 still evening air with plaintive melody. 
 
 The shadows of evening are gathering quietly around
 
 20 BFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 the old oak-tree, which throws its gigantic arms so pro- 
 tectingly over our cottage home. We are awed with the 
 imposing stillness which pervades it, till the very foot- 
 fall seems a sacrilege. 
 
 Step reverently; for a mighty conqueror is even 
 now waiting for admission, bearing a message from the 
 King of kings. Step softly ; for holy angels are 
 bending over the couch of the dying one, chanting the 
 strains of the New Jerusalem ; binding upon her marble 
 brow already glowing with a holy radiance the 
 crown of the faithful and the redeemed. 
 
 Step lightly ; for loved ones are kneeling by the 
 sick one's couch, and the gushing tears of heart-felt 
 sorrow are falling unchecked upon the snowy drapery. 
 Bleeding hearts are offering up their silent and fervent 
 invocations to Heaven's throne. Oh ! it is a holy place ; 
 just on the verge of the spirit-world ; and every breath 
 seems wafted from Elysian bowers. 
 
 Step aside ; for the grim messenger approaches. He 
 heeds not the prayers, the tears, the sighs, nor the 
 beseeching looks of love. He cares not for the vacant 
 chair, the deserted hearth, the bleeding hearts, the 
 orphan's tears. 
 
 He lays his icy hand upon that ashy brow, already 
 crowned with a halo of glory. 
 
 He shuts out from her mortal vision the dear, famil- 
 iar objects of home, and the little flock her love has so 
 tenderly sheltered, and opens to her wandering view
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 21 
 
 the dazzling glories of the spirit-world, with the great 
 white throne, the Lamb, and the blood-washed throng ; 
 the immaculate robes, the palms, the crowns, the harps 
 of gold, the tree of life, bending beneath delicious fruit. 
 
 The golden gates are swung, and she sees streets of 
 pearl, placid rivers, smooth as polished silver; and hears 
 far, far away, strains from seraph, harp, and lyre. 
 
 Hushed was the voice that had so often made our 
 quick pulses leap with joy. The fond smile was chilled 
 upon her icy lips ; the thin hands were clasped peace- 
 fully over the rigid breast; the white drapery folded 
 gracefully over the marble features, and all that was of 
 earth earthy, was given back to corruption. 
 
 In the little* burying-ground where she had so often 
 knelt and prayed over the grave of her eldest born, 
 they reverently bore our mother to her silent resting- 
 place. 
 
 We bowed to the smiting rod ; but our bruised and 
 bleeding hearts told how deeply and surely the shaft 
 had pierced them. 
 
 How, in the silent anguish of my stricken heart, I 
 prayed to lay me down beside the senseless form they 
 slowly laid within the open vault. But the death-angel 
 comes not at our bidding, and they bore me back to the 
 desolations of a motherless home. Who can portray the 
 heart-anguish of bereaved ones when they return from 
 a mother's burial to the desolate home. Words are a 
 mockery at description.
 
 22 EFFIEANDI. 
 
 There stands the old arm-chair in its accustomed 
 nook, but the occupant is not there. The well-worn 
 Bible lays in the selfsame spot upon the shelf where 
 her hands had placed it. The bed where she suffered 
 and died is draped in fresh white linen, and bears no 
 token of a recent occupant. The table is spread, but a 
 neighbor assumes the place erst made sacred by a 
 mother's presence. 
 
 With awe and hushed silence we gather around the 
 once cheerful fireside ; we turn at a thought, a word, 
 for the approving smile, or look of approbation, but she 
 is not there ; the death-angel has borne her away, away 
 to the mansions of rest in the happy spirit-world ; where 
 she no longer feels pain or weariness ; where hej spirit 
 bounds with all the freshness and vigor of youth ; and 
 her form, light and etherial, floats gracefully along over 
 streets of pearl and glittering gold, to the throne of the 
 Immaculate, to mingle her notes of praise with myriad 
 angel voices to the Lamb who sits thereon, arrayed in 
 the dazzling glory of His majesty and power. 
 
 Closer we nestled together, while we wept, and prayed, 
 and mourned for the mother, who in love had sheltered 
 her little flock from the storms and blasts of a pitiless 
 world ; and we felt that God might have spared her -yet 
 a little longer to her tender lambs. But we saw not the 
 frightful herd of hungry wolves, crouching without the 
 fold, impatient to suck the life-blood of the flock, which 
 had been sheltered only by a mother's tenderest care.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 i 
 
 OUR HOME WITHOUT A MOTHER. 
 
 THE COLD dark days of winter came ; but the 
 evenings were no longer whiled away in merry 
 pastime. The viol and flute no longer reverberated 
 through those hushed apartments. The lightsome song 
 and gleeful laugh were strangers to our bereaved hearts. 
 And we wept, as we nestled closer together by the 
 evening fireside, for the mother's love which had for- 
 ever departed from that silent hearth. 
 
 Then the spring-time .came, and the summer flowers 
 bloomed over the grave of mother and sister, side by 
 side, which our- little hands had planted there. But the 
 death-angel was not appeased ; for ere the summer 
 flowers- had faded from off the turf reared above their 
 graves, he came again ; and oh, so fearful was his 
 coming. 
 
 Our eldest brothers, two of them, were stricken down 
 in the vigor and beauty of early manhood, with 
 scarcely a mOTnent's warning of their fearful dissolution. 
 
 Frank, our brave and noble sailor boy, found a grave
 
 24 E F F I E A N D I ; R , 
 
 beneath the blue waves he loved so well, far, far away 
 from our desolate home ; and Harry, the free, jovial, 
 graceful Harry, just one week later, was stricken dowfc 
 by an epidemic which swept fearfully through a distant 
 city, where he had hoped to win fortune and favor by 
 genius and toil. 
 
 Oh, the pall-like gloom! how heavily it fell upon our 
 hearts and home, wrapping us closer and closer within 
 its sable folds. Neighbors gathered around us with 
 words of sympathy and condolence ; but we could not 
 be comforted. 
 
 Long we had listened for their approaching footfall, 
 in hopeful expectancy that the tales they might tell us 
 of sea and land would dissipate somewhat the gloom 
 which shrouded our desolate home. 
 
 But instead of their cheering presence, two letters, 
 .draped in black, told us a tale too fearful for our 
 stricken and bleeding hearts to bear; and again we 
 bowed to the scourging lacerations of the bereaving 
 rod. Six . of us then remained ; some in early child- 
 hood, and Carro, the oldest, scarcely in the prime of 
 girlhood. Yet all the duties and responsibilities attend- 
 ant upon us and home rested upon her. 
 
 She struggled nobly with her unused task, casting 
 all her cares upon Him who was able to sustain her. 
 But He had another mission for her ro perform, a 
 higher and nobler work, in the mansions He had pre- 
 pared for her.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 25 
 
 And so we saw her cheek pale, day by day, her eye 
 grow more lustrous, her slight form more fragile, and 
 that same hoarse, hollow cough, oh, we had heard it 
 long before ; and we knew she, too, must die. 
 
 When the summer flowers had bloomed twice over our 
 mother's grave, and the cold blasts of winter had folded 
 over them a winding-sheet, spotless, and pure as an 
 angel's drapery, then sister Carro laid aside her earth- 
 tasks, which had been so faithfully and lovingly per- 
 formed, and, in the spring-tide of youth and beauty, 
 calmly resigned herself to the repose of death and the 
 tomb. 
 
 Angels had called her away, with their soft, sweet 
 whisperings ; and, calm and silently as the passing of 
 the summer zephyr, she soared away from the earth- 
 clogs, to mingle her songs with those who had gone 
 before, in the happy spirit-land, where the weary are 
 for ever at rest. 
 
 Surely the heart knows not how much it can bear, 
 until it is brought to the test. Other sorrows awaited 
 us, aside from the bereavement which death had wrought 
 upon us. 
 
 The meagre hand of poverty was stalking around our 
 dwelling. We heard his iron heel upon the threshold, 
 and his gaunt form threw a frightful shadow through the 
 desolate apartments. 
 
 His sharp fingers clutched mercilessly our delicate
 
 26 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 frames ; his stony eyes chilled the life-blood in our young 
 and sensitive hearts, as he bound us with his heavy 
 manacles, and made us the helpless slaves of his tyranny 
 and power. 
 
 Who will say that poverty is a blessing, and welcome 
 his approach as an ambassador of peace and content- 
 ment ? 
 
 He may come as a blessing to the gloated, gouty 
 votary of luxury and ease, who groans and grapples 
 with his gluttonous disease upon a bed of softest down, 
 till he curses the wealth he has so sinfully abused, and 
 his Maker, too, for the life which is prolonged, to endure 
 his merited sufferings. But not to the little motherless 
 flock, who shrank with fear and trembling from his 
 pitiless grasp, did he come as a blessing, or a messenger 
 of good. 
 
 He was there ; his hard heel was grinding us into the 
 very dust of the earth ; and it was then we felt that the 
 death-angel were a thousand times more welcome than 
 the tyrant, which stalked so frightfully around our little 
 cot. 
 
 Our father had become disheartened ; his strong frame 
 yielded unresistingly to the bereaving rod ; a dark 
 cloud shadowed his home, and it had become dreary 
 and insupportable to him. He fled from it to new scenes 
 and new associations ; and, in the excitements of the 
 ^usy city, sought forgetfulness of the unhappy past.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 27 
 
 But memory is a faithful attendant, which neither time 
 nor distance, pleasure or pain, can annihilate. 
 
 We had one brother, a noble, studious boy, whose 
 heart yearned and aspired to an honorable name and 
 position amongst the famed literati of the land. But the 
 fond anticipations of his young heart had been blasted. 
 Poverty had reared an impenetrable bulwark between 
 him and the boon he so ardently craved, which only 
 time, toil, and perseverance could demolish.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OUR BROTHER'S DREAM. HIS GUIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 
 
 II i;u CASTLE HOME. 
 
 ONE MORNING, as he seated himself at our 
 scantily furnished breakfast table, he joyfully ex- 
 claimed, " my sisters ! I have had such a dream ! 
 It even now seems a vivid reality. 
 
 " I thought I wandered alone, alone through a 
 dense forest. So intricate were its windings and thick 
 branches, that not even the sun's rays could penetrate 
 through the thick, dark foliage. Narrow footpaths 
 branched out on every side, leading to the high, verdure- 
 crowned mountains, with which the forest was sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 " The free, gushing melody of the wild-birds' song 
 came floating on the fragrant zephyrs from their sunny 
 bowers. The low murmuring of distant water-falls 
 reached my ears, mingled with the hum of happy 
 voices, and my heart yearned to join in the festive 
 joys of those rural scenes. 
 
 " Exhilarated with hope and buoyancy I turned into 
 one of the most inviting footpaths ; but I soon found
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 29 
 
 it was overgrown with sharp thorns and briers, which 
 tore my garments and lacerated my flesh, so that I 
 was unable to proceed. 
 
 " I turned to another, but was soon lost in its dark, 
 narrow, and intricate windings. And then another 
 seemed to invite me, and I followed on, and on, till it ter- 
 minated abruptly above a deep, dark, yawning abyss. 
 
 " Faint and weary, I sat me down, hopelessly, upon 
 the hard fragments of a jutting rock, and wept. Clouds 
 were gathering darkly and ominously around me ; the 
 deep, heavy thunders roared fearfully in the distance. 
 
 " I could not retrace my steps, for the increasing 
 blackness of the approaching storm hid from my view 
 the narrow footpath which had guided me thither. I 
 could not proceed, for the dark abyss yawned to engulf 
 me. I stretched myself "hopelessly upon the cold, damp 
 ground, and gave myself up to weeping and despair. 
 
 " The storm became darker and more terrific ; the. 
 lightnings flashed vividly, and the thunders came 
 booming and crashing through the deep, dark vistas of 
 the old forest, like the deafening artillery of a mighty 
 war-troop. I looked up through the blinding tears, for 
 just then I felt a hand laid lightly upon my shoulders.. 
 
 " A tall form bent over me, enveloped .in a dark, 
 flowing mantle, half concealing her features, while -the 
 long white hair floated, like snow-flakes, upon the pass-
 
 30 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 ing breeze. Her arm was upraised, and her long, bony 
 fingers pointed ominously to the approaching storm. 
 
 " ' Arise, young man,' she said, ' why tarryest thou 
 in the forest ? Seest thou not the storm approaching ? 
 Fearest thou not the thunder's crashing roar ? the 
 lightning's vivid flash ? the tornado's withering blast ? 
 Arise ; flee to the mountains, lest they bury thee be- 
 neath the oblivious gulf.' 
 
 " ' Alas ! ' I answered, despondingly, ' I know not 
 the way ; and there is none to guide me. Thrice have 
 I attempted it, and as often have been driven back by 
 some formidable, impeding barrier.' 
 
 " ' Perseverance would have surmounted all those 
 formidable barriers/ she answered, as she bent her 
 keen, dark eyes upon me. ' Just beyond that thicket 
 of thorns, which you so much feared, was a broad, 
 smooth path, leading, with a gradual and pleasant 
 .ascent, directly to the mountains. Perennial flowers 
 bloom on either side, wooing and refreshing the traveller 
 with their aromatic odors. 
 
 " ' The other path was more circuitous ; requiring more 
 time, labor, patience, and a keener penetration. For if 
 you had raised your eyes, instead of keeping them upon 
 the brush-wood and pebbles beneath your feet, you 
 would have seen finger-posts, directing you ever and 
 invariably to the right. And then you would have 
 escaped the seemingly pleasant path, which lured you 
 onward, and onward to this frigTitful gulf.'
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 31 
 
 " I shuddered, and cast ray eyes fearfully down to the 
 yawning abyss. 
 
 " ' Who art thou ? ' I inquired, turning to the strange 
 being beside me. ' Who knowest so well the forest 
 paths and the mountain heights. Wilt thou direct me 
 to the broad highway, that I be not again driven 
 back in dismay by formidable barriers.' 
 
 " ' I am,' she answered, ' the Genius of the forest. 
 My castle is on the highest pinnacle of the mountain's 
 brow. 
 
 " ' I wander forth, from the sunny bowers of my moun- 
 tain home, through the dark forest windings, in search 
 of those who have foolishly strayed, or lost their way 
 in the many narrow and seemingly intricate windings 
 of this lowland forest. 
 
 " ' Many I have extricated from the brink of this 
 fearful abyss, whom I have afterwards crowned with 
 a fadeless laurel. 
 
 " ' And many have perished here for lack of courage 
 to surmount the threatening barriers, or strength to 
 ascend the mountain path. 
 
 " ' Will you go ? ' she asked. ' The forest is dark, 
 the paths narrow and uneven ; the thunders howl fear- 
 fully through the deep vistas ; the scorching lightnings 
 are flashing and hissing through the swaying branches ; 
 the tornado's roar comes booming from the distant 
 plains.
 
 32 EFFIEANDi; OR, 
 
 " ' Remain, and you perish. Go, and you .' 
 
 She raised her arm, and pointed significantly to her far 
 off mountain home. 
 
 " ' I will go,' I answered, as, with a quick gesture, I 
 reached forth my hand to her, ' if you will lead me 
 through the dark, narrow forest paths.' 
 
 " for a sudden faintness came over me, when I thought 
 of my previous attempt to penetrate the thicket of 
 thorns ; and I fain would have a companion to battle 
 with me those formidable opponents. 
 
 " ' I will guide you,' she answered, waving back my 
 extended hand, ' but I cannot lead you. The path is 
 narrow, follow. 
 
 " ' Depend upon your own strength, your own exer- 
 tions. Remember that the race is not to the swift, nor 
 the battle to the strong ; but those who persevere to the 
 end shall win the prize. 
 
 " ' Look not to the right nor to the left, nor back upon 
 the forest ; but keep your eye steadily upon the moun- 
 tain. 
 
 " ' If you fearlessly follow me through the dark forest 
 windings, you can walk by my side when we emerge 
 into the broad, mountain path ; and when you gain the 
 dizzy heights of yonder pinnacle, you shall be an honored 
 guest within my castle home.' 
 
 " She said no more, but turned into a path which I 
 had not before observed, and glided noislessly along
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 33 
 
 through the windings, which grew broader and pleas- 
 anter, as we progressed in our journey. 
 
 " Soon I began *fco feel sensible of a gradual ascent ; 
 but it was pleasant and less fatiguing than the narrow 
 forest paths. 
 
 " My guide turned to me and said, approvingly, ' Thus 
 far you have gained the victory,' and added, as she 
 bent her dark eyes searchingly upon me, 
 
 " ' The will opens to us the way. W.e have gained 
 the mountain path, and now you are worthy to walk by 
 my side.' 
 
 if The dark clouds had all disappeared ; the calm blue 
 sky was over us ; the warm, dazzling sunbeams lay, 
 like a flood of golden lava, over the deep rich verdure 
 that crowned the mountain side. 
 
 " Soft whispering zephyrs, heavy with the fragrance of 
 aromatic flowers, came floating lazily by, mingled with 
 the wild birds' gushing melody from their own native 
 bowers. 
 
 " Half bewildered with the intoxicating scene, I knew 
 not that I had been making any advancement, till I 
 found myself upon the dizzy heights of the mountain 
 brow. 
 
 " ' Behold,' said my guide, ' the reward of persever- 
 ance.' 
 
 " And she reached forth her hand, and waived a glit- 
 tering sceptre over broad plains, upon which the 
 golden sun rays lay in liquid beauty.
 
 34 EPFIBANDi;OK, 
 
 " I cast my eyes upon the plains below, and a scene 
 more beautiful than imagination had ever portrayed to 
 me, met my wandering vision. 
 
 " Cities and towns lay there, interspersed with rich 
 vales and flowing streams. Broad fields, where the 
 golden harvest swayed to and fro in the sunlight like 
 the ocean waves. 
 
 " Deep shady woodlands, where birds of brilliant 
 plumage warbled their delicious songs, all met my 
 bewildered gaze ; and I turned inquiringly to my guide. 
 ' They are yours,' she said, ' the prize is at the end of 
 the race.' 
 
 " Hadst thou remained in the forest, ere this thou 
 wouldst have been lost in oblivion. Behold the reward 
 of perseverance ! ' She drew from her girdle a laurel 
 wreath, upon which was inscribed, in golden letters, 
 ' fame.' 
 
 " ' I crown you,' she said,' twining the wreath upon 
 my brow, ' I crown you the rightful monarch here. 
 My castle shall be your fortress, and this lofty pinnacle 
 your throne.' 
 
 " ' Who art thou ? ' I said, casting myself in be- 
 wildered astonishment at her feet. 
 
 " Her long flowing mantle fell to the ground, revealing 
 a face and form, so dazzlingly beautiful. Oh ! I can 
 never describe it ; but upon her fair, Parian brow, rested 
 a lustrous crown, upon which glittered, among costly 
 gems, ' Genius.'
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 35 
 
 " I sprang to embrace her, and awoke only to find 
 myself lost in the dark forest windings and thorny 
 thickets of poverty, or laying myself hopelessly down 
 upon the fearful brink of the yawning abyss of inaction 
 and despair. But the crown of perseverance I may still 
 obtain, by following the genius of the mountain, the ' I 
 will,' of the forest windings. It is that magical power 
 which will carry us to the pinnacle of fame and for- 
 tune, and spread at our feet the broad harvest fields and 
 golden sheaves, bathed in liquid sunlight, as a reward 
 for all our toil. 
 
 ".What others have accomplished before me, I can 
 accomplish, I will accomplish. Our dear mother often 
 told us that God would help those who would help 
 themselves. And I believe it. But I must leave you ; 
 this is no place for me. My path to the mountain may 
 be far from here, but I know that the God whom my 
 sainted mother delighted to honor, will guide me to it. 
 
 "And when I stand upon the mountain's height, reaping 
 the laurels which toil and perseverance have strewn for 
 me, then, my sisters, you shall share with me the bless- 
 ings of Him who has bereaved us, and desolated our 
 home in our life's gushing springtide. Not in anger, I 
 trust, has He shattered our earth-idols ; but in merciful 
 kindness, that we might become heirs with them to an 
 inheritance which no death-king can wrest from us." 
 
 We prepared as best we could the scanty wardrobe,
 
 36 EFFIEANDT. 
 
 and when all had been nicely packed within the little 
 valise, then we laid upon the top the tiny Bible, with 
 its shining clasp, which had been our mother's in the 
 days of happy girlhood. And upon a delicate fly-leaf 
 we traced this injunction : " Remember thy mother's 
 instructions, and forget not the teachings which her 
 little Bible contains. They will lead you safely through 
 the dangerous paths of youth, and crown you with 
 honor lofty as heaven, and endurable as eternity."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SEPARATIONS. VISIT OF TWO YOUNG LADIES FROM LOWELL. 
 
 THEIR GLOWING DESCRIPTIONS OF FACTORY LIFE. MT 
 
 RESOLVE AND TRIALS. 
 
 ANOTHER GREAT trial awaited us. Our 
 father's small remittances were not sufficient for 
 the four young and inexperienced girls, who still re- 
 mained in the little cot, nestled so lovingly beneath the 
 shadow of the old oak-tree. 
 
 There were no manufactories, no needle-work, no 
 straw braiding, near our far-off country home, that we 
 might apply ourselves to the needful task of money- 
 making, in order to sustain ourselves comfortably in our 
 loved, though desolate home ; and we saw no alternative 
 but a separation. 
 
 Matta, the oldest of us, was a brave, healthy, rosy- 
 cheeked girl, who neither yielded to impossibilities, nor 
 crouched before the tyrant, who swayed his fearful 
 sceptre around our little dwelling. 
 
 With her to resolve, was to execute. Farmers' wives 
 were busy rith the wheel and the loom, and she met 
 with no obstruction in procuring a place (at fifty cents a 
 week), well suited to her active temperament and genial
 
 38 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 disposition, with a well-to-do farmer's family, just over 
 the hill, all in sight of the blue smoke which rose in 
 graceful curves through the branches of the old oat? 
 above our cottage home. 
 
 Then there was little Lula, our baby sister, with knots 
 of shining curls clustering all around her fair brow, like a 
 cloud of sunbeam ; and her pale, fragile sister-mate, deli- 
 cate as the snow-wreath, and sensitive as the trembling 
 aspen. 
 
 They must be separated. They who had slept in each 
 other's arms almost from infancy; whose every thought 
 and expression had been that of one mind ; whose lessons 
 had been conned from the same book ; who had romped to- 
 gether, chasing the shadows and the sunbeams upon the 
 green turf, beneath the old oak which shook his heavy 
 branches playfully to the passing zephyrs. 
 
 They who nightly, with hand clasped in hand, had 
 mingled their voices together in prayer to the God who 
 shelters the motherless lambs -of the flock in the bosom 
 of His divine love. 
 
 They who had mingled their tears in childish grief 
 over the cold, rigid features of a dead mother, and won- 
 dered if she would not send for them to come to her 
 beautiful home in the far blue sky, that the good angels 
 had prepared for her. 
 
 Oh, they had been very happy till mother died ; for 
 she had sheltered her little flock with tenderest solici-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 39 
 
 tude, till the death-angel called "her away, and placed 
 upon her brow the dazzling coronet prepared for those 
 who so faithfully perform their earth-mission. 
 
 But now she could no longer ward off the merciless fangs 
 of the gaunt tyrant, which stalked so fearfully around 
 our quiet home ; and they, our baby sisters, must be 
 separated, and seek a shelter by a stranger's fireside. 
 
 None but God saw the tears that were shed by the 
 flickering flames of our desolate hearthstone. None but 
 God heard the cries -and prayers of anguish that went 
 up from our bruised and bleeding hearts to Him who 
 heedeth the sparrow's fall, and clothes the lilies of the 
 field in their beautiful raiment. 
 
 None but God knew how mercilessly the gaunt tyrant 
 clutched at our vitals, or chilled the warm life-blood in 
 our young veins, to satisfy his imperious and relentless 
 demands. 
 
 And so our baby sisters were separated miles away, 
 and I remained alone in that desolate home. 
 
 No language can portray the anguish of my heart, as 
 I wept and prayed to the orphan's God for strength to 
 go out into the pitiless world, and to bear meekly the 
 burden which He had laid upon me. 
 
 I opened the old family Bible ^my mother's Bible 
 to Psalm 91s.t. I felt that the words were prophetic, and 
 arose from my kneeling position comforted and strength- 
 ened in Him who doeth all things well. 
 
 Some young ladies had just returned from Lowell, and
 
 40 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 by their glowing descriptions of factory life, induced me, 
 with some of my young associates, to return with them to 
 the busy Spindle City. 
 
 Always of a delicate" constitution and feeble health, I 
 could not, with Matta, engage in the more hardy employ- 
 ments of domestic life, and I had no means to devote 
 myself to study and the fine arts which I had so ar- 
 dently and hopefully desired. 
 
 And so I, who had scarcely ever lost sight of my cot- 
 tage home and the old oak swaying its branches so 
 lovingly above it, resolved to venture far away, and 
 become an operative in a cotton mill. 
 
 The very idea was repulsive to my delicate and sensi- 
 tive nature. Must I go where the learned and the un- 
 learned, the old and young, beauty and ugliness, virtue 
 and vice, all mingled together in one common mass, 
 with no nice distinctions by the lookers-on, but all placed 
 upon the low vulgar grade of " Operatives ? " But there 
 seemed no alternative ; necessity compelled me, and I 
 had only to obey her mandates. 
 
 I sought the little room where my mother's last look 
 rested upon me ; where her last breath embalmed my 
 brow like a holy anointing from the spirit world. And 
 there I knelt and prayed to Him who had said, " When 
 thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then I will take 
 thee up." 
 
 I there and then committed myself to his merciful 
 care, and felt that my trust was not in vain.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 41 
 
 It seemed that the spirit of my sainted mother was 
 hovering over me, and that she would be my guardian 
 angel in a far-off stranger's home. 
 
 I looked around the apartment for some little relic of 
 my mother's, that I might treasure it as a sacred me- 
 mento of her and my childhood's home, when far away. 
 
 A dress lay carefully folded within the little wardrobe. 
 It was the last dress that my mother had worn in life. I 
 would take that, and every time I looked upon it I should 
 see my mother, I should feel her presence with me.* 
 . Oh, how sacred it seemed to me then ; no eyes but 
 mine should look upon it, no stranger's hand should dese- 
 crate it ; for, sacred as the pearl of great price, I would 
 keep and preserve it. Then, after penning a little son- 
 net to my " Childhood's Home," I bade it a long and sad 
 farewell. I will here repeat a few verses, and then pro- 
 ceed with my story. 
 
 ADIEU, MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 
 
 Adieu, my childhood's home, adieu ! 
 
 My grotto, streamlet, dell, 
 My parting tribute is to you, 
 
 A tear and sad farewell. 
 Beneath thy shades I've wandered free, 
 
 Nor care, nor sorrow knew, 
 No longer bloom thy joys for me 
 
 My childhood's home, adieu ! 
 
 * That dress is mine still. 
 4*
 
 42 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 Adieu each towering, misty height, 
 
 By our familiar bowers 
 My mountain streams arrayed in light, 
 
 Where laves the sunlit flowers. 
 How oft thy undulating notes, 
 
 Low murmuring to the sea, 
 Entranced, with witching power, my thoughts 
 
 In dreams of ecstasy. 
 
 Though other scenes call me away, 
 
 No joys my bosom fill ; 
 For memory, with her chast'ning ray, 
 
 Will twine around me still. 
 While soft o'er each endearing scene, 
 
 Hope spreads her'magic wand ; 
 Dispelling clouds that darkly seem 
 
 To veil my native land. 
 
 My childhood's home, to me how fair, 
 
 Beneath thy wildwood shade, 
 Where with a parent's shielding care 
 
 And joyous heart I strayed ; 
 Thy skies reflect a deeper blue, 
 
 When mirrored in the tide, 
 And brighter glows the sunset hue 
 
 That tints the even-tide. 
 
 When twilight o'er the azure sky 
 Her soft enchantments throw, 
 
 And summer zephyrs passing by 
 Where strains all gently flow, 
 
 Like lute-strings swept by fairie's hand 
 
 ' Far o'er the clear blue sea ; 
 
 Thus o'er me steals my native land, 
 Sweet memories of thee.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 43 
 
 If e'er from dreary wanderings 
 
 I reach my childhood's home, 
 Then naught from my owu mountain streams 
 
 Shall tempt my feet to roam ; 
 I leave thee with a kind farewell, 
 
 While tears mine eyes bedew, 
 And fond emotions inly swell, 
 
 My childhood's home, adieu ! 
 
 You must remember that I was young, and little used 
 to verse-making ; but it was the heart's tributary fare- 
 well, and as such I present it to you.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MY JOURNEY TO LOWELL. THE ARRIVAL. FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 FIRST INTRODUCTION INTO THE BOARDING-HOUSE AND COT- 
 TON MILL. 
 
 
 
 THREE D.R E A R Y days dreary because the 
 sun had hid his smiles and radiance behind the 
 murky clouds, while the heavy fogs and chilling mists 
 enveloped us like the gloomy folds of a sable pall we 
 were tossed and jostled in an old lumbering stage-coach, 
 which was then the only public conveyance from the 
 home of our nativity to the nearest railroad station, on 
 our way to the Spindle City. 
 
 Weary and worn, we arrived there just as the setting 
 sun was guilding the tops of the tall steeples which met 
 our longing visions so cheeringly in the distance. 
 
 We crossed the bridge which spanned the majestic 
 Merrimac, and was soon set down amidst a cluster of 
 long brick blocks, termed by our initiated companions, 
 " Factory Boarding-houses." 
 
 Then came another trial. There were several of us, 
 " green hands," who had never seen the inside nor the 
 outside of a cotton mill. We could not all find em- 
 ployment in one room or mill ; nor even could we all 
 be provided for within the several mills of one corpo- 
 ration.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 45 
 
 * So it fell to my lot to be the stray lamb again ; and, 
 after a weary and discouraging search, a vacancy was 
 
 discovered in a weaving room, on the H Corporation, 
 
 about a mile distant from where my companions had 
 
 been located. 
 
 
 
 A boarding-house was the next consideration ; but 
 there was no choice in selection. Wherever there was. 
 a vacancy or spare corner in a bed, there I must 
 locate. 
 
 At last one vacancy was discovered, the only vacancy 
 on the corporation ; for it was the season of gathering 
 
 in, from hamlet and cot, of youths and maidens desirous 
 
 . 
 
 of securing a permanent location through the approach- 
 ing winter. 
 
 Well, my little trunk found an obscure corner in the 
 " upper front " of No. 5, and I a small space in the 
 narrow bed appropriated to me and a fat, blousy maiden 
 from the old Granite State, who was troubled exceed- 
 ingly with scrofula and salt rheum ; so much so, that I 
 often found it necessary to lay my weary, aching head 
 upon the hard beam, in preference to the pillow which 
 was intended for both our use. 
 
 Beneath us was a trundle-bed where an old grandma 
 and her foster child found repose. And to the left, another 
 bed in close proximity, occupied by two spinster sisters, 
 who had, years ago, " been through the mill," and could 
 tell us wondrous tales of " reductionSj" and " turnouts," 
 and " stump speeches," and "serenades," and "dona-
 
 46 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 tions," and " clerical sympathy," and " legal interfei* 
 ence," winding up with a grand stampede back to the 
 loom and spinning-frame, with acknowledgments and 
 promises again to walk worthy of the vocation to which 
 they had been called. 
 
 4 
 
 Such were my sleeping-room companions of that fac- 
 tory boarding-house. 
 
 By dint of much consideration and skilful manoeuvring, 
 a seat was provided for me upon a low bench by the 
 side of one of the long tables extending through the 
 dining-hall, where I was seated in a most unceremonious 
 manner between a brawny lassie from the Emerald Isle 
 and a Green Mountain boy, who kept up a continual 
 animosity and sharpshooting of bombshells, in the shape 
 of potato-parings and apple-sauce, taking me, without 
 leave or license, for their wall of defence in the hottest 
 of their hostile affray. 
 
 In the mean time, while I managed as best I could, by 
 dint of dodging and crouching, to escape the flying mis- 
 siles, my opposite neighbors had taken upon themselves 
 the responsibility of annihilating the meat, vegetables,- 
 and staff of life, sending them all together to oblivion ; 
 for no traces of them were left to the longing vision of a 
 hungry soul. 
 
 " Every man for himself, Miss, in a factory boarding- 
 house," said a gray-haired man, on witnessing my aston- 
 ishment at the rapidly disappearing edibles. " We 
 should starve on complimentary gentility. There is a
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 47 
 
 slice for each, and a slice for all ; but woe to him who 
 tarrieth by the way ; for there are no loaves and fishes, 
 nor the fragments thereof, to be gathered up after the 
 cravings of the multitude have been appeased." 
 
 In the morning we were hurried from our restless 
 slumbers by the loud booming of the bells to the break- 
 fast table. But the sour bread, rancid butter, and the 
 unpalatable substitute for coffee, sweetened with the 
 sugar of molasses' casks, gave me such a sickening sen- 
 sation, that I turned away with disgust from the sight 
 and steam of such unpalatable preparations. 
 
 I wept, as I turned with loathing from the untasted 
 food, and my thoughts reverted to the past, when my 
 mother's little hands had prepared the sweet corn-cakes, 
 fresh butter, and bo.wl of rich warm milk for our morn- 
 ing's repast. 
 
 "All the boarding-houses are hot like this," said a 
 young girl from my own native State, who had been a 
 witness of my tears and loathings and untasted food for 
 several previous mornings. " I have engaged the first 
 vacancy at No. 10. Two of the boarders are already 
 on their notice, and if you wish to a'ccompany me, I will 
 make an engagement for you to-day. There you will 
 find clean dishes, nice warm biscuits, and butter and 
 coffee that even your delicate taste will not turn from 
 with disgust." 
 
 I eagerly assented to the arrangement, and with the 
 hope of better days in prospective, met more cheerfully
 
 48 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 the disgusting privations which attended me in that un- 
 congenial and comfortless abiding-place. 
 
 I found that factory life was not all a pleasant pastime. 
 The whirl and bustle, the din and clatter of machinery, 
 wrought harshly upon my sensitive nerves, causing 
 excruciating headaches, sickening sensations, and long- 
 ings for the peaceful quietude and retirements of my 
 dear native home. Alas ] for the lone wanderer, it 
 would never be home again. 
 
 A few weeks of preparatory instructions from an 
 experienced weaver, and then I was placed in charge 
 of a pair of looms, beside a girl as young and inexpe- 
 rienced as myself. 
 
 She had the misfortune of a handsome face, and spent 
 much of her time before the little glass which hung upon 
 the opposite wall. Her work was neglected, and oft the 
 threadless shuttle would bound with fearful velocity into 
 the warp which I had just managed, with the assistance 
 of an older hand, to coax into tolerable running order, 
 and before I could prevent the mischief, her shuttle and 
 mine, like fearful opponents, were cutting down and 
 making waste of the threads and fabric I had so wearily 
 and hopefully attended. 
 
 Then, when all was in running order again, a fearful 
 whiz and stunning blow from its neglected and threadless 
 mate, would send me reeling and fainting to my seat, 
 with a fearful contusion upon my brow or temples, 
 bursting with pain and indignation at the neglect which
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 49 
 
 had wrought upon me so much trouble and toil. In 
 every way, I seemed in momentary peril of my limbs or 
 life. If I sought refuge from the flying shuttles on the 
 other side, then the swift revolving of the whizzing clogs 
 and heavy belts would draw, like the treacherous whirl- 
 pool, my garments into their fearful embrace. Or the 
 belts would break loose from the heavy drums, and, like 
 the fiery fangs of the flying dragon, clutch me fearfully 
 in their angry grasp. 
 
 After a while things assumed a more cheering aspect. 
 The handsome girl, who was only a " spare hand," 
 resigned her place to the rightful owner, a quiet, intel- 
 ligent girl, who had been on a visit to her friends and 
 home in a neighboring State. 
 
 I had become more accustomed to the whjz and whirl 
 of the machinery, and had learned the art not only of 
 keeping my threads and spirits up, but of dodging a 
 flying shuttle, and the treacherous fangs of the sweep- 
 ing dragon. 
 
 I left my " bed and board " at No. 5, and refused 
 longer to remain a target for the Green Mountain boy 
 and his Irish lassie. 
 
 No. 10 was a home for young ladies, intelligent 
 and church-going young ladies. The dishes were clean, 
 meats palatable, the beds and rooms kept in perfect 
 order, and every thing as quiet and domesticated as a 
 pious maiden lady could wish or devise.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LETTERS FROM HOME. MATTA'S MARRIAGE. SUDDEN DEATH 
 OF OUR FATHER. MY TREASURE. A BROTHER'S GRAVE. 
 
 A YEAR PASSED away, and I was begin- 
 ning to feel at home and happy, often receiving 
 sisterly testimonials from Matta, Minnie, and Lula ; 
 and sometimes I would make them returns in the shape 
 of a few dollars, nicely secured within the folds of my 
 little note. 
 
 One day two letters came to my address. One was 
 from dear, dear brother, written in a cheerful, hopeful, 
 encouraging tone, characteristic of his noble, ardent, 
 and sanguine nature ; telling me how rapidly he was 
 progressing in his studies, under the tuition of his kind 
 instructors and benefactors ; pointing me hopefully for- 
 ward to the future, when the little scattered flock would 
 once more nestle lovingly together within the same fold, 
 never again to be driven out by the grim, meagre tyrant, 
 Want. 
 
 The other was from Matta; her's was written in a 
 free, easy, hopeful tone, as they ever had been, inform- 
 ing me of her late marriage with a young mechanic.
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 51 
 
 " You will be. surprised at this, Rosa," she said, 
 "knowing as you did of my previous engagement to 
 Walter Seaton, who has just entered upon his profession 
 of M. D. I have kept you in ignorance of all that has 
 transpired in regard to us for the past year, fearing that 
 it might give you unnecessary pain. But now it is all 
 over, and the future, perhaps, will show us that it was all 
 for the best. 
 
 " Walter, you know, belonged to a family which made 
 some pretensions to aristocracy. His sister had married 
 a man who lived in a fine house and kept an elegant 
 carriage. She can assume the position of a lady of 
 fashion, with servants at her command, to do her every 
 bidding. 
 
 " When she had become acquainted with our dis- 
 tressed situation, and learned the fact that I, her 
 brother's intended, was a hireling, she forbade, upon the 
 authority of an elder sister, all further intercourse 
 between us, on pain of her everlasting displeasure. 
 
 " Walter was under some obligations to her for money 
 remittances during his collegiate acquirements, and 
 also had the promise of assistance in commencing his 
 medical profession. 
 
 " He saw no alternative but acquiescence to her un- 
 reasonable demands ; and forthwith sought an interview 
 with me, desiring me to release him from the vows we 
 had previously and sacredly plighted.
 
 52 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 " I would hold no unwilling captives," I said. " If 
 freedom from those sacred vows would make him 
 honored and happy, then he should be free. But," I 
 added, " Retributions sometimes follow hard upon the 
 heel of the inconstant and faithless. He who has reg- 
 istered our vows will judge between us. 
 
 " You remember Ada Morton, that cold, proud, 
 contemptuous girl who spurned the very dust beneath 
 her dainty feet. Well, in all Seclusivale, not one had 
 even dared to bow before the regal throne of her forbid- 
 ding haughtiness. 
 
 " Walter, or rather his wealthy sister, thought that 
 she might be a fitting bride to bear his honored name ; 
 and so, after a few preliminary negotiations, they made 
 immediate preparations for the nuptials, which were to 
 
 be celebrated a day or two before his removal to P , 
 
 a section made vacant by the demise of a former 
 occupant. 
 
 " The wedding, I understand, was a magnificent affair ; 
 
 for Madam R , the sister of the groom, spared no 
 
 pains or money to make it all her haughty vanity could 
 desire. 
 
 " And I am married too, and shall soon be the mis- 
 tress of an humble, though I trust a happy home." 
 
 A hasty postscript was appended as follows : 
 
 " Dear Rosa, the painful intelligence has just reached 
 me, since writing the above, of the sudden death of our 
 father from a malignant fever.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 53 
 
 " Erst a stout, erect, and portly man, he had assumed 
 the stoop and debility of age, and, therefore, became an 
 easy 'victim to the fell destroyer, death. 
 
 " When, oh when will death's ravages cease amongst 
 us? When will his fearful commission be withdrawn 
 from our little band ? When will the wail of anguish 
 eease to go out from our bereaved and bleeding hearts ? 
 When will the pall-like gloom, which for years has over- 
 shadowed us, be cheered by the dawning of prosperity 
 and hope ? 
 
 " Above these dark clouds may be the sunbeams 
 which will dry up our tears and light with joy our 
 future pathway. 
 
 " Let us hope and trust in the orphan's God, and 
 claim his promises, which are sure as eternity, and 
 unchanging as the Rock of Ages." 
 
 Again I must drink of the wormwood and the gall, 
 and quaff alone its bitterest dregs. Those who had 
 mourned with me in former bereavements were far 
 away. There were none to understand my grief or to 
 sympathize with me in that time of bitter distress. Oh 
 that I could fly away to that dear, deserted home, and 
 tell my anguish to its silent walls with the tears and 
 wailings of my orphaned and bleeding heart ! 
 
 Oh that I could press my aching head and throbbing 
 bosom, to some dear and familiar object of home, the 
 pillow where my mother died, the old arm-chair, or her 
 well-worn Bible on the shelf !
 
 54 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 Her dress ! I grasped it eagerly from its secret 
 hiding-place, and drenched it with the scalding tears 
 which gushed up from my breaking heart. 
 
 My mother was with me ; I felt her presence as visi- 
 bly as when her gentle spirit was clothed with the mortal. 
 How soothing her soft spiritrwhisperings ; how cheering 
 the inspirations which enveloped me, like a halo of light 
 from the golden gates and sapphire throne of the Im- 
 maculate. 
 
 Many times before, I had wept and prayed over that 
 little memento, and I always felt that my mother was 
 with me, soothing, jcomforting, and encouraging me 
 through my lone, rough, shadowy pathway. 
 
 Worlds of wealth would not, could not purchase the 
 garment which my mother laid aside for her burial 
 robes and an angel's garb. I was no longer alone. 
 Every day some sweet vision of the departed loved ones 
 flitted before me with soft, soothing, encouraging whis- 
 perings ; and, with renewed vigor and hope, I resumed 
 my daily tasks, with the assurance that my mother's 
 God would lead me safely through the rugged paths of 
 life to her blessed abode in the happy spirit-world. 
 
 Several months passed away in a calm, quiet, monot- 
 onous way, for factory life is one continual round of 
 sameness, year after year, save now and then a new 
 comer, or a vacancy caused by the sickness, death, or 
 absence of faces, with which our vision had been famil- 
 iar for days and weeks and months before.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 55 
 
 I had replenished niy wardrobe, and accumulated 
 quite a little sum, aside from the small remittances made 
 now and then to Minnie and Lula. 
 
 The din and clatter of machinery was no longer an 
 annoyance ; it destroyed the sound of uncongenial 
 voices ; the coarse joke and vulgar song were lost in its 
 familiar din ; and, undisturbed, I could commune with my 
 own heart and the guardian spirits which ever attended 
 me. 
 
 I relieved much of the dull monotony of factory life 
 with books and pen. Many little sonnets I composed 
 while bending busily over my daily task. One I will 
 repeat to you here. It was a tribute to the brave and 
 noble sailor boy, our brother Frank. 
 
 A BROTHER'S GRAVE. 
 
 He has gone to his rest, but 'tis not where the dark pine, 
 The willow and cypress a plaintive dirge sing ; 
 
 'Tis not where the wild rose, the sweet-brier and woodbine 
 Around him in silence their rich fragrance fling. 
 
 No cold sculptured marble is reared for his pillow, 
 No mound marks the spot where he silently sleeps ; 
 
 For he lies 'neath the dark foamy surf of the billow 
 And naught but the sea-star a watch o'er him keeps. 
 
 The sea-nymph that rocks on the breast of the ocean, 
 
 A garland to memory will twine o'er the dead, 
 And cheer by her smiles the rude tempest's commotion, 
 
 While sweetly she sings o'er his wave-girdled bed.
 
 56 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 Rest, peacefully rest, beneath thy loved ocean, 
 No more shall thy bark proudly ride o'er the wave ; 
 
 No more will thy breast beat with raptured emotion, 
 For it lies with the gem 'neath its pearl-crested cave. 
 
 When the purified throng shall have reached their bright haven, 
 With them may we join in the songs of the blest ; 
 
 Where no tear dims the eye, and no lone heart is riven 
 Where the weary with God are forever at rest.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OCR LAST BROTHER DIES IN NEW ORLEANS. THE SACRILEGE IN 
 
 OUR CHILDHOOD'S HOME. MINNIE'S MARRIAGE. LULA WITH 
 ME IN LOWELL. 
 
 A FEW MONTHS more passed away, and 
 then another letter came, with the astounding in- 
 telligence that our last, our only brother, had been called 
 suddenly, in the bloom of youth and health, to meet his 
 God and the friends who had gone before, to the man- 
 sions of rest in the city of His holiness. 
 
 He had gone, buoyant with health and youthful antici- 
 pations, with his friend and instructor, to spend the 
 winter in the far South. 
 
 It was the sickly season. The fever was making 
 fearful ravages throughout the city, sweeping down, like 
 the plague and pestilence, the young and old, rich and 
 poor, bond and free. And before they had been resi- 
 dents of New Orleans three days, my brother and his 
 kind benefactor were filling a stranger's grave. 
 
 My heart died within me. I could not be comforted. 
 And many and many a day I lay upon my bed almost 
 insensible to every thing but the bereavements which
 
 58 BFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 had shrouded my heart and desolated the home of my 
 childhood. 
 
 Our dear, dear brother ! how hopefully he had parted 
 with us at the cottage door, where the old oak was nod- 
 ding a kindly farewell to the young adventurer. 
 
 How cheeringly he wrote to us in his absence ; point- 
 ing us forward to a future of pleasure and plenty, when 
 he had become master of the profession for which he was 
 so hopefully striving. Alas, for that future ! no earth- 
 greeting would ever behold it. 
 
 While we were struggling with the heavy bereavements 
 which had so suddenly and fearfully stricken our young 
 hearts, sacrilegious hands were making fearful ravages 
 within the silent walls of our desolate home. 
 
 Every choice keepsake and available article was pil- 
 fered, one after another, from thence, till nothing re- 
 mained for the weeping sisters, who were struggling with 
 the bereaving rod and their relentless fate, in a stran- 
 ger's home. 
 
 Our mother's Bible and chair were stealthily con- 
 veyed to one abode, while other articles of furniture were 
 secreted here and there in other homes, till nothing re- 
 mained to welcome us back but the silent walls and the 
 old oak-tree swaying its branches mournfully above them. 
 
 Three years had passed away before I returned to my 
 childhood's home, and then the house was gone too, and 
 the old oak-tree. But the graves of some of the loved
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 59 
 
 ones were there, and the turf seemed too sacred for my 
 feet to press. 
 
 With awe and reverence I bowed my head, and 
 watered it with the tears which gushed out from a 
 breaking heart. 
 
 Matta, soon after her marriage, had removed to a 
 distance ; and Minnie and Luk, were too far away to 
 know aught of what was passing in our little cot. 
 
 And so the sacrilegious hand was not stayed, till all 
 had been pilfered by those stealthy ravagers. 
 
 " God ! " I cried, " all this injustice and outrage 
 beneath that Holy Eye which cannot look upon sin with 
 any degree of pleasure ! All this beneath the scales of 
 justice thine own strong hand poises above them and 
 their wicked acts ! All this within the precincts of civil- 
 ization and the Holy Bible, which says, ' Thou shalt not 
 steal nor covet ! " 
 
 I knew that all those sinful acts had been registered 
 by Him who judges the people in righteousness. And 
 although His judgments are sometimes slow, yet they are 
 sure ; and are like the heavy mill-stone, grinding to pow- 
 der the wicked transgressors. 
 
 Minnie had grown up a handsome, laughing girl, of a 
 mild and pleasant disposition, graceful and attractive in 
 deportment, and, while yet young, was married to a 
 handsome youth, and removed many miles away from 
 our native home.
 
 60 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 Lula, our baby-pet, now a tall, graceful, intelligent girl, 
 accompanie^ me to the Spindle City. 
 
 But the confinements of factory life, exposure from the 
 heated rooms to the cold atmosphere and fierce storms 
 of winter, wrought so fearfully upon her delicate con- 
 stitution, that there was no alternative but to abandon 
 her labors in that locality, and return to the more healthy 
 and congenial pursuits of domestic country life. 
 
 She therefore bade me an affectionate adieu, and re- 
 turned to Matta, who was the happy mother of a prattling 
 girl, with the roses and sunshine of two laughing sum- 
 mers twined around her fair white brow, to whom she had 
 given the name of our sainted mother, and also of a cherub 
 baby boy, who bore the name of that loved brother who 
 was filling a stranger's grave in a southern clime. 
 
 Time passed on, and then another letter came ; and, 
 within it, a delicate bridal card, and a tiny flaxen curl 
 carefully secured to the well-filled sheet. 
 
 The card informed me that our little Lula had given 
 her heart and hand to a young and enterprising me- 
 chanic, and was already mistress of a very pretty home, 
 
 in the village of M , with the best regards of her 
 
 husband and self to sister Rosa, and a cordial invitation 
 that she might soon be one of their happy group. 
 
 " You are lonely there, Rosa," she continued, " and 
 need the quiet repose and sympathy of our home and 
 hearts, and also the pure, invigorating air of the healthful
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 61 
 
 country. Come to us. There is room in our home and 
 hearts, and dear, dear Frank wants to see his sister 
 Rosa." 
 
 ' That little flaxen ringlet ! "0 Matta ! Matta ! my 
 heart bleeds for you. Has the death-angel indeed found 
 his way to your happy home ? Has he laid his 'cold icy 
 hand upon the pure white brow and laughing lips of your 
 first-born ? Has he hushed th'e childish prattle and the 
 soft pattering of tiny feet upon the cottage floor ? Has 
 he closed those lustrous eyes, so pure and saint-like in 
 expression, and folded the slender, waxen fingers nerve- 
 lessly upon the pulseless bosom ? Has he pierced your 
 heart anew, and given, you yet another cup to quaff 
 the gall of bitterness to the very dregs ? Oh, stay ! 
 stay thy hand, thou mighty destroying conqueror ! 
 Let thy past desolations suffice thee, which thou hast 
 wrought in the home of our childhood ! And spare, 
 oh spare the little remaining remnant from thy scourg- 
 ing rod." 
 
 Many a bitter tear I wept for that household pet. 
 Many a heartfelt invocation I sent up to our God and 
 her God, for that young and sorrowing mother, that her 
 home, as ours had been, might not be darkened and 
 desolated by that fell destroyer, death. 
 
 Sdon after Lula's marriage I received" an. invitation to 
 go to the South, or rather to the south-west. But to me 

 
 62 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 there seemed no place like a New England home, even 
 though it was within the crowded walls of a factory 
 boarding-house. 
 
 I therefore immediately penned a note to the one who 
 had kindly tendered me the invitation, accompanied by 
 the following lines, suggested by the above solicitation. 
 
 MY OWN NEW ENGLAND HOME. 
 
 Oh, tell me not of distant climes, 
 
 Where palms their broad leaves wave, 
 And where the weeping willow twines 
 
 Its branches o'er the waves ; 
 Oh, tell me not of skies so fair, 
 
 And deeply shaded bowers, 
 And say not that the balmy air 
 
 Breathes o'er ambrosial flowers. 
 
 Oh, tell me not that crystal streams 
 
 Flow o'er their beds of pearl, 
 O'er placid lakes the moon's bright beams 
 
 Their witching charms unfurl. 
 I love New England's hills and dales, 
 
 Her foamy, broad blue sea ; 
 The rocky shores and fertile vales, 
 
 All, all have charms for me. 
 
 Our skies are bright and lovely too, 
 And health floats on the breeze ; 
 
 And gorgeous is the sunset hue, 
 O'er our transparent seas.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 63 
 
 These craggy heights more beauteous are 
 
 Than prairies broad can be ; 
 New England still thy home is dear, 
 
 Land of the brave and free. 
 
 Oh, lovely are these snow-capped hills 
 
 And wild-wood shades to me ; 
 There's music in the rippling rills, _ 
 
 A charm is o'er the sea. 
 No sable slave doth till thy soil, 
 
 Sweet land of liberty ; 
 No whip-lash wakes to daily toil, 
 
 For all thy sons are free. 
 
 
 Land where the Indian's warwhoop rang, 
 
 Land where their chieftains bled ; 
 And where their vanquished warriors sang 
 
 The wild dirge o'er their dead. 
 Our fathers, in thy forests drear, 
 
 Have fought and died for thee ; 
 New England still thy home is dear, 
 
 Land of the brave and free. 
 
 No more shall. Paugus' darkening form 
 
 Thy peaceful homes invade ; 
 From Lovell's band a dauntless arm 
 
 The chieftain low hath laid. 
 He sleeps where Saco's waters flow, 
 
 Beneath the tall pine-tree ; 
 And warmer hearts for thee now' glow, 
 Land of the brave and free.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 RETURN TO THE SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD. LDLA'g HOME. 
 
 MATTA'S BHtEAVEMENTS. LULA'S LETTERS ; HER FRANK is 
 
 DYING. 
 
 ONE YEAR had sped by since Lula's marriage, 
 .and my lone heart yearned to greet her again, and 
 visit once mof| the scenes of my early childhood, where 
 the senseless form of my mother was silently moulder- 
 ing. 
 
 And so one bright summer's morning I left the din 
 and clatter of machinery, the noise and bustle of a 
 factory boarding-house, and was soon out of sight of the 
 tall spires which reared themselves so loftily above the 
 busy Spindle City. 
 
 Lula met me with joyful acclamations and sisterly 
 greetings at the door of her pretty home, and proudly 
 placed within my arms an infant cherub boy, her boy, 
 the first-born of my baby sister. 
 
 It seemed but yesterday since we r<5mped together, 
 and, in our childish glee, chasing the shadows and the 
 sunbeams beneath the swaying branches of 'the old oak- 
 tree. 
 
 It seemed but yesterday since we had wept together
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN "A COTTON MILL. . 65 
 
 over the rigid features of a dying mother, and nestled 
 closer together, a little motherless band, by the silent 
 hearthstone of our desolate home. 
 
 | 
 
 And now she, the youngest of the fold, herself a 
 proud, happy mother and wife, and mistress of a pretty 
 
 and iJeasant abode. 
 
 * 
 
 " I have named him Frank, Rosa. Is. it not pretty ? 
 That is the name of my dear, dear husband, you know, 
 and to me the sweetest name in all the world." 
 
 I pressed him tenderly to my trembling lips, and 
 bathed his fair young brow with the tears which welled 
 up from my bursting heart. For dear to me as Lula 
 herself, was her infant cherub boy. 
 
 I was pleased with her home, with the neatness, 
 regularity, and promptness with which every thing was 
 accomplished in their due season. 
 
 We chatted of olden tunes, sang together the songs 
 we used to love, rambled hand in hand through the 
 green meadows, plucked the delicious berries which 
 grew in tempting luxuriance at our feet, and had long 
 drives together, over the hills and far away, in the little 
 light vehicle which her Frank had manufactured with 
 his own hands." 
 
 And then we visited Matta together. Another bird- 
 ling warbled its soft preludes in her dear home. It was 
 a girl, too, like the first-born she had laid away beneath 
 
 6*
 
 66 EFFIEANDi; OR, 
 
 the silent turf, where the form of our sainted mother 
 was reposing. 
 
 " This little pledge of our earth-love I shall name for 
 you, dear Rosa," she said, as she laid it tenderly within 
 my arms. " We love it very, very much ; and more, 
 because we fear that the death-angel will wrest ifcfrom 
 us as he did our first-born darling babe." 
 
 Then little Ernest, who bore the name of our dead 
 brother, came shyly to my side, and laid his little dim- 
 pled hand coaxingly within my own. 
 
 In the first glad joy of sisterly greeting, he had been 
 overlooked-; but now he raised his little winsome face to 
 mine, around which the long flaxen curls were streaming 
 in sunny beauty, while the little plump lips half pouting, 
 half laughing, were temptingly held up for " aunty's 
 kiss." 
 
 I pressed his dimpled cheeks and flaxen curls wildly 
 to my throbbing bosom, accompanied with such a shower 
 of stifling kisses, that he was 'glad to beat a retreat, and 
 screen himself within the folds of his mother's dressing- 
 gown. 
 
 A few weeks were spent with Matta and her babes, 
 and then we hied us away to Minnie's abode in the 
 city of P . 
 
 Minnie had no babes to claim our share of atten- 
 tion ; but she was a light, joyous, happy creature, 
 making sunshine and gladness wherever she went,
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 67 
 
 with her bright smiling face and free gushing laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 And so in Minnie's home the days sped on with electric 
 velocity, till the cold, bleak winds of autumn swept 
 threateningly from the distant mountains, warning me 
 of the near approach of winter, and the necessity of 
 resuming my labors in my factory home. 
 
 And, back again, the weeks and months sped on in the 
 same monotonous way as formerly. The same kindly 
 greetings and familiar faces met me as erst, passing 
 to and fro. 
 
 In the same little screen, stood my plants and flowers, 
 and just above them hung the little mirror, where I had 
 so often smoothed my hair and "laved my heated brow 
 with the cooling draught. 
 
 The same shining shuttles were flying as merrily as 
 ever through the forest of snowy threads, always es- 
 caping with wonderful tenacity the threatening thump, 
 thump, thump of the heavy lathe. 
 
 The whirl and whiz of belts and clogs, all seemed like 
 the greetings of cherished friends. I wrote and sang 
 and chatted, fearless of listening critics, and my daily 
 invocation's to Heaven's throne were heard only by the 
 great Father, as they arose from my lips, while bending 
 busily over my daily task. 
 
 It was midwinter, and the wail of anguish again 
 reached me from Mattie's far-off home. Little Ernest
 
 68 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 had fallen a victim to a fatal disease, and was already 
 clothed in a seraph's shining garb, roaming with his 
 sainted sister over the fields ambrosial in the happy 
 spirit-world. 
 
 Mattie's home was again darkened, and her heart 
 crushed by the bereaving rod. Where could she fly 
 for consolation ? 
 
 Earth had no balm for those bleeding wounds. Many 
 a day I wept over the fate of poor little Ernest, and 
 mourned for the bereaved mother, till the spirit-whisper- 
 ings answered, " It is well with the child." 
 
 The dark, fearful shadow of the death-angel was 
 already nearing the threshold of Lula's happy home. 
 That fell destroyer, consumption, was clutching his 
 fatal fangs into the heart-depths of her young and idol 
 husband. Yet he came so stealthily, so treacherously, 
 that they knew not an enemy was stalking around their 
 dwelling, till they heard the ominous clanking of his 
 iron heel, and the dark shadow of his gaunt form fell 
 threateningly upon their hearts and home. 
 
 Then a letter reached me from Lula's home, saying 
 entreatingly, " Do come to me, Rosa ; my heart is break- 
 ing. I cannot bear this great affliction alone. Come to 
 me, for the hand of God is laid heavily upon me. 
 
 "Why, oh why must it ever be thus, that our 
 heart's cherished ones, our idols, must ever be wrested 
 from us, when we cling to them with such idolatrous 
 devotion ?
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 69 
 
 " I cannot part with dear, dear Frank ; he is my 
 world, my light, my life, my heaven below. And little 
 Frank is just beginning to climb upon his knees, and 
 lisp his name so prettily too. Oh, our home has been a 
 little paradise. Must it be shrouded in the gloom of 
 death and the tomb ? " 
 
 I made immediate preparations to go to Lula, hoping 
 and praying that the angel of death might pass them 
 by ; that he would stay his hand, ere the light of their 
 happy home had forever departed from her. They 
 had been so happy together. I could not think he was 
 dying.
 
 CHAPTER, X. 
 
 DEATH OF LULA's CHEETTB B&Y. HER HUSBAND'S TRIUMPHANT 
 DEATH. HER HOME MADE DESOLATE. 
 
 IN A FEW DAYSI stood upon the threshold 
 of my sister's dwelling. No joyful acclamations 
 reached my ear, as I cautiously raised the latch to gain 
 admittance to the room where we last parted one little 
 year ago, she a happy wife and mother, with the roses 
 and sunshine of youth and health upon her fair white 
 brow, little dreaming that the sunlight would so soon 
 be darkened by the heavy clouds of sorrow, or that the 
 roses would fade and wither beneath the cypress-wreath 
 and badges of bereavement and death. 
 
 I entered. No one saw my approach, for a mightier 
 than I had preceded me ; and they were bowing in 
 hushed awe and speechless silence before the dark 
 sceptre he wielded commandingly before them. 
 
 He was no stranger to me. Many times I had seen 
 him enter the little cot which erst nestled so lovingly 
 beneath the old oak-tree. Many times that dark sceptre 
 had severed a link from out our happy band, and driven 
 the dancing sunlight from our hearts and home. And 
 he was the same, the very same in that little darkened
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN. A COTTON MILL. 71 
 
 room, where Lula was kneeling in hopeless grief beside 
 the couch of her only, her idol boy. 
 . How sweet he looked, as he lay there in the still 
 repose of death ; his soft white lids drooping over the 
 marble cheek ; his waxen fingers clasped lovingly over 
 a pulseless breast ; his innocent prattlings all hushed 
 by the cold, icy fingers of death ; and his delicate limbs 
 shrouded in the habiliments of the tomb. 
 
 How the pent-up fountains of that mother's heart 
 gushed forth in unrepressed and uncontrollable grief, as 
 she knelt there with her cold white hand pressing con- 
 vulsively its pulseless brow. 
 
 Grief and despair were throwing around her their dark, 
 
 
 
 impenetrable shroud. She saw her child torn away 
 from her yearning heart and shielding bosom, and the 
 dark and silent tomb yawning to receive it. 
 
 Neighbors and friends were gathered around her with 
 tears of sympathy and words of condolence ; but she re- 
 fused to be comforted. 
 
 Oh that our angel-mother could fold her wings around 
 her stricken child, and, in a still small voice, breathe 
 words of sweet consolation into her troubled ear as oft 
 she had to mine. 
 
 I felt that that angel-mother was already hovering 
 around us ; and I prayed that her soft, soothing in- 
 spirations might calm the deep anguish, the* crushing 
 agony, of Lula's bleeding heart. 
 
 Oh that hope might gleam to her through the dim,
 
 72 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 dark distance. That with an eye of faith she might 
 penetrate the dark clouds of despair ; and, far beyond, 
 see the etherial form of our sainted mother clothed in a 
 garb of dazzling beauty, bearing, within her snowy pin- 
 ions, her infant babe safely within the golden gates of 
 the New Jerusalem, to repose in her sainted bosom free 
 from the sins, the sorrows, and sufferings of this lower 
 earth. 
 
 " Lula," I whispered, as I twined my arm caressingly 
 around her neck, " be firm in the strength of Abraham's 
 God ; for it is well with the child." 
 
 Lula laid her head upon my throbbing bosom, and sob- 
 bed aloud. " Rosa ! my heart is breaking for my 
 darling babe." 
 
 How many a mother has knelt and wept as despairingly 
 as Lula did, over the pale features of a darling, an only 
 babe, made lifeless by that fearful scourge, the scarlet 
 fever. 
 
 
 
 How many families have been swept away by its de- 
 vastating power. How many villages have been desolated 
 by its sweeping breath and fiery fangs. 
 
 Well may a mother tremble, and press more closely to 
 her bosom her darling babes, when she hears the sound 
 of his chariot wheels in the- far-off distance. 
 
 He is a mighty conqueror ; his shafts are swift and 
 
 -fatal to tfie sweet heart-blossoms a mother's love has 
 
 nourished with the tenderest care and fondest solicitude. 
 
 They bore her household pet to the little vault which was
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 73 
 
 opened to receive him. And then Lula returned, with a 
 breaking heart, to perform her mission of love beside the 
 couch of her invalid husband. 
 
 How softly and shadow-like she moved around the 
 darkened apartment, lest her slightest foot-fall might 
 arouse him from a momentary forgetfulness of his tor- 
 turing disease. 
 
 How tenderly her soft hand laved his burning brow, 
 or held the cooling beverage to his parched and fevered 
 lips. 
 
 How carefully she adjusted the downy pillows so that 
 he might recline in a position of greater ease and repose. 
 
 And through the dark and stilly night hours she hov- 
 ered around the couch of the restless sufferer, perform- 
 ing, ever and anon, some act of love ; never herself 
 indulging in needful repose while her services were re- 
 quired at his side, or her hand could alleviate one pain, 
 or perform one more act of tenderness to the suffering 
 one. 
 
 But her tenderest care could not restore him, her love 
 could not detain him, her tears and prayers could not 
 soften the mandates of the death-king, who strode threat- 
 eningly around their dwelling, and rapped impatiently at 
 the door of their little bridal chamber. 
 
 " my husband, you must not, you will not, leave 
 me here alone ! You cannot die while my heart beats so 
 fondly for you. My love must detain you. The death-
 
 74 EFFIEANDI. 
 
 king must not enter our little home again, and wrest you 
 from my bleeding bosom." 
 
 " Jesus calls me, dear Lula. I fear not the death- 
 king ; for an angel-band will bear me safely to the man- 
 sion he has prepared for me in the spirit-world. I shall 
 only change the mortal for the immortal ; only exchange 
 weakness for strength ; sorrow and pain for the glories 
 of heaven. I shall not be far from you, Lula. I will 
 watch over you, comfort and counsel you, till we mingle 
 our notes of praise, with myriad angel voices, to God and 
 the Lamb in the happy spirit- world. Be" comforted, 
 Lula, you will meet me there soon, never, no never to 
 part again." 
 
 And thus he passed away from earth, and Lula, wid- 
 owed and childless, bowed meekly to the bereaving rod. 
 But the shaft went home to the heart's core, and no 
 earth-balm could heal the wound it made. How desolate 
 was her heart when she returned from the graves of her 
 idols to her cheerless home. Alas ! for Lula it was 
 home no longer. 
 
 Her tears had not been stayed ; her heart-meanings 
 were not hushed, ere the relatives, who had long cov- 
 eted the little wealth which her husband had accumulated 
 by persevering industry, took measures to secure it to 
 themselves ; and even to wrest from her the widow's 
 mite, lawfully hers, by false representations and stealthy 
 conveyances of valuable articles from the manufacturing 
 establishment of her departed husband.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 75 
 
 And so Lula once more was penniless, homeless, and 
 alone, with crushed spirits, a bleeding heart, and en- 
 feebled constitution. To Matta's home then she fled, till 
 health and strength should once more enable her to 
 wrestle with the heavy billows of adversity which were 
 surging so heavily and surely against the little bark, 
 that lay wrecked and disabled upon the bleak, barren 
 rocks of her stormy life-sea. 
 
 Minnie had removed far away. Many months her 
 delicate constitution had been yielding slowly, but surely, 
 to that fell-destroyer of youth and beauty, consumption. 
 
 One day a letter came to us. It was in a stranger's 
 hand, but the fearful forebodings of our hearts told us 
 too truly what it contained. 
 
 Minnie, too, was dead. Her free, gushing joyousness 
 was hushed, and the sunshine of her happy smiles had 
 gone out from her pleasant home. 
 
 We mourned for our gentle Minnie, as we had mourn- 
 ed for those who had gone before ; and wept that she, 
 too, must fill a stranger's grave, far, far away from the 
 scenes and associations of our happy childhood. 
 
 Three of us then was all that remained of that once 
 numerous family ; and which, we knew not, would be 
 the next victim to that fell and relentless destroyer. 
 
 We felt that his cravings would not be appeased, till 
 he had sucked the last life-drop from the hearts he had 
 yet spared in the shattered remnant of that hapless 
 family.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I RETURN TO THE SPINDLE CITY. CHANGES IN NUMBER TEN. 
 
 A PLEASANT COMPANION. LITTLE WEEPING WILLOW. 
 
 ONCE MORE I returned to the Spindle City ; 
 and as my foot again pressed the threshold of that 
 old familiar home, No. 10, a prayer went up with heart- 
 felt thankfulness to the orphan's God, that there was yet 
 this asylum left to shelter the lone wanderer and heart- 
 stricken orphan. 
 
 Many times it had changed occupants since I had 
 sought its quiet, protecting roof. Kindly hearts and fa- 
 miliar faces had often departed, with a tearful farewell, 
 from those pleasant associations, again to gladden the 
 homes of their childhood, or to diffuse the light of love 
 and devotion in the homes and hearts of those they had 
 chosen, for weal or woe, through the journey of shadows 
 and sunbeams in life's pilgrimage. 
 
 Such changes had taken place in my recent absence, 
 and in my pleasant sleeping apartment, none but strange 
 faces awaited to greet my return. 
 
 So Miss Gourdon, my old friend and mistress of the 
 house informed me, after her kindly greetings and 
 motherly congratulations on my safe return.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 77 
 
 " They have already procured places, and are already 
 quite factoryfied, with the exception of the little pale, 
 drooping Effie Lee. The girls call her the ' Weeping 
 Willow.' She has been here but a few days, and 
 hardly made an effort to procure employment. She 
 seems very sensitive and friendless; and I am so glad 
 that you have come, for I know that your sympathies 
 will be enlisted in her favor, as also your influence in 
 behalf of her welfare." 
 
 I quickly followed the coachman with my luggage, and 
 bade him leave it in the hall, outside the door of my 
 sleeping apartment. My heart was gushing with sym- 
 pathy for the lone one. But when I entered that old, 
 familiar apartment, and my eyes rested upon the droop- 
 ing form of the unknown, my sympathies found vent in a 
 gush of unsuppressed tears. 
 
 She sat at my own little writing-table ; her head bowed 
 low, her face leaning upon her clasped hands, concealed 
 by a heavy fall of bright golden tresses, resembling a 
 cloud of sunlight resting upon a lily bed, surrounded by 
 the sable drapery of the storm-cloud. 
 
 She did not raise her head, and I knew by the half- 
 suppressed sob and the heavy throbbing of the bosom, 
 beneath the folds of the sable dress, that she was weep- 
 ing. Aye, weeping tears of bitter arid hopeless bereave- 
 ment. 
 
 Instinctively I was drawn to her side, and laying my
 
 78 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 hand caressingly upon the soft curls which shaded her 
 throbbing temples, I whispered tenderly, " A little home- 
 sick, my dear, I think ; but it will soon pass away, and 
 you will even learn to love the scenes and associations 
 which at first seem so uncongenial and repulsive to a 
 delicate and sensitive nature. 
 
 " It is what I call the orphan's home ; a resort for the 
 poor and friendless. I hail it with gratitude to the great 
 Father, who is also the orphan's God, that He has 
 endowed men with the means, ability, and disposition, 
 to erect such institutions of industry, where any and all 
 may acquire a competence, independent and free from 
 the degradation which charitable obligation demands. 
 
 " Miss Gourdon has told me that you are a stranger 
 here, without even an acquaintance to give you the 
 warm hand of friendship, or a kindly word of encourage- 
 ment, in this eventful era of your young life, which 
 has elicited my warm sympathies in your behalf, as it 
 shall my influence, in procuring for you the situation 
 which you desire." 
 
 She raised her head, and pressed convulsively my cool 
 palm to her burning brow. " Oh ! " she articulated, " I 
 am alone, alone in the wide world. Not one remains to 
 whom my heart can claim kindred. All, all are gone, 
 and this heart, this life, is oh so desolate ! 
 
 " Why, oh why was I left to tread this dark, thorny 
 life-path alone alone ? "
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 79 
 
 " Nay, not alone," I said, " for they are all with thee 
 still, that household band ; and God, even the great Jeho- 
 vah, holds thee by the right hand of His power and 
 mercy." 
 
 The welcome sound of the tea-bell rang merrily 
 through the hall, and hastily wiping the tear-drops from 
 the swollen cheeks of my little protege, I drew her arm 
 affectionately within my own, and hastened to my old, 
 familiar seat in the dining-hall below. 
 
 Miss Gourdon smiled a kindly greeting as we entered, 
 and introduced me as the Rosa Lyrid she had been ex- 
 pecting to occupy the bed and room which had formerly 
 been appropriated to my use. 
 
 " I did not wait for your permission, Rosa," she said, 
 " in the selection of your lodging companion, for I felt 
 that you would be just the ones of all the world, the 
 very best friends imaginable. 
 
 " And I hardly know which to congratulate the most ; 
 you Rosa, for having found one on whom you can lavish 
 the love and sympathy of your warm heart, or the 
 shrinking, sensitive, tearful Effie, who can lean upon 
 your kindly arm, and grow strong, and hopeful, and 
 happy, 'neath your encouraging smiles and sisterly affec- 
 tion." 
 
 " Congratulate me, Mother Gourdon, for having found 
 one who will suffer me to act in the double capacity of 
 friend and sister.
 
 80 BFFIBANDIJOK, 
 
 " Yes, we will be sisters, Effie dear, as well as friends 
 and room-mates. For how truly can our hearts sympa- 
 thize with each other in the sorrows and bereavements 
 which have desolated our homes, and twined our brows 
 with the cypress wreath of lonely orphanage." 
 
 Effie's large blue eyes glistened with hopeful tears, as 
 they beamed with a look of gratitude upon me. 
 
 Her fair, white, transparent brow grew placid and 
 serene, a delicate -tinge suffused her cheek, while a faint 
 smile played alternately around the dimples of her pretty 
 mouth. 
 
 After answering ^the many questions of Mother Gour- 
 don, in relation to the sorrowful events which had 
 transpired in my absence, of Lula's bereavements and 
 her desolate home, we repaired again to the cosy little 
 room appropriated to our use. 
 
 Very little etiquette or formality is served up amongst 
 factory girls, whether they compose the same household 
 circle, or mingle with the mass in the factory yard. 
 Wherever they meet, reserve and shyness give place to 
 pleasant greetings and sisterly familiarity. And taking 
 advantage of this privilege, I said, " It will be one whole 
 hour before bell time yet, Effie ; and, with your permis- 
 sion, we will spend it in making ourselves a little better 
 acquainted with each other, by relating some of the 
 incidents of our sad, eventful lives. 
 
 " And so you must gratify my curiosity first," I con-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 81 
 
 tinued in a cheerful tone, twining my arm affectionately 
 around her snowy neck, as I seated myself by her side, 
 " by telling me how such a little, sensitive, shrinking 
 creature as you seem to be, ever found the way from the 
 Pine-tree State to our busy Spindle City." 
 
 Effie smiled mournfully, while the tears started afresh 
 to her clear blue eyes. In a moment she mastered her 
 emotions, and said, " Oh, it is a sad, sad story ; but I 
 feel that it will be a relief to unburden my heart to one 
 who can, from experience, sympathize with my loneliness 
 and orphanage."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 EFFIE LEE'S GLOWING DESCRIPTION OF HER CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 
 ESQUIRE STONEHEABT'S PAUPERS. 
 
 " ll/T ^ FATHER was tfnce an enterprising 
 
 -L-'J- mechanic, and being a superior workman, soon 
 accumulated a handsome little fortune which seemed the 
 sure precursor to wealth and an elevated position in the 
 ranks of the world. It is an old saying, and I believe 
 a true one, that misfortunes never come single-handed. 
 Nevertheless, it proved true in relation to my father and 
 his little competence. 
 
 " A fire occurred which proved very disastrous in 
 the village where he was located, and with one fell swoop 
 it took all that my father possessed, with the exception 
 of the lives of his darling ones. 
 
 " When my father became fully sensible of the ruin 
 and desolation which had befallen him, and saw the morn- 
 ing sunlight smiling mockingly upon the thick smoke and 
 charred timbers of the elegant home his own industry 
 had reared, it completely unmanned him. 
 
 " Many weeks he lay bereft of strength and reason, 
 and when at last they returned to him, they brought not
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 83 
 
 back his former hopeful aspirations and energetic will, 
 which had characterized him in his previous efforts. He 
 was physically and mentally shattered by the sad catas- 
 trophe which had beggared him. 
 
 " Yes, my father was penniless, and their only means 
 of support through his long and tedious illness was pro- 
 vided by public charity. 
 
 " One evening, just as my father had begun to venture 
 out a little, assisted by my mother, they were surprised 
 by the entrance and introduction of a tall, coarse-fea- 
 tured, hard-fisted man, whom my father at once recog- 
 nized as one of the officials of his native town. 
 
 " My father recoiled with horror at the sight of him, 
 for a presentiment that he had not yet drank off the 
 dregs of the bitter cup, rushed over him with irresisti- 
 ble and overpowering force. With a groan, which wells 
 up only from a broken and bleeding heart, he sank back 
 fainting upon the throbbing bosom of my gentle mother. 
 
 " ' Is this the reception I meet with, hey, boy ? ' 
 said the official with an insulting leer, * when I come 
 to help you out of your troubles ? Come, I am going to 
 
 take you back to B ; I knew you could not get along 
 
 without us. The fact is we have had a town meeting, 
 and Esquire Stoneheart has consented to take you. 
 
 " ' He said that he would take you at the lowest possi- 
 ble price, and he has made a bargain this time, I swow, 
 and is in a deuced hurry to have the pay-roll in black and 
 white upon his logbook and ledger.'
 
 84 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 " And he fastened his small, snaky eyes, with an in- 
 sulting, licentious glare upon my sensitive mother, who 
 recoiled with horror from his rude gaze. 
 
 " ' Come, Lee,' he continued, ' bestir yourself, you'll 
 find that you have got precious little time to waste in 
 conniptions ; for I shall start with you to-morrow morn- 
 ing, whether you will or no, and place you under good 
 protection for a while or so, I reckon.' 
 
 " The full force of his assertions came like the scathing 
 lightning to those heart - stricken and desolate ones. 
 And words have no power to express the anguish which 
 those assertions conveyed to their hearts. 
 
 " They were paupers, and had been knocked down 
 under the hammer of the auctioneer, like cast-off clothing 
 or more worthless refuse. 
 
 " ' Is there no way of escape, dear George ? no al- 
 ternative ? ' asked my mother, as the door closed upon 
 the tall, gaunt form of him who had come to deal this 
 last and heavy blow. 
 
 " ' Alas ! none, I fear, my precious wife. You know 
 that I for many years have been an orphan, left to hew 
 my way alone through the rough sandstones of life ; 
 and your father is dead also, and the portion which he 
 left you is devoured by the greedy flames. 
 
 " ' Whither shall we go ? to what turn for comfort or 
 assistance, but to Him who doeth all things well ? Let 
 us trust Him, my gentle wife, and may-be we shall find 
 him all-sufficient.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 85 
 
 " ' We must go with this man ; I see no alternative." 
 It will, I fear, be long before I recover my health suffi- 
 ciently to do aught for the comfort or well-being of my 
 family ; and you, dearest, will soon need the most deli- 
 cate attentions, which a sick and beggared husband 
 cannot tender you.' 
 
 " ' Talk not of me, dear George ; for whither thou goest, 
 I will 1 go,' said my mother. ' I will never repine, though 
 fate deals harshly with us, if so be that we are not sepa- 
 rated by misfortune, or the stern, relentless hand of death. 
 
 " ' Yes ; I will go, hoping that you will soon recover 
 your health ; and then, with our united efforts, we shall 
 soon be able to raise ourselves from this mortifying deg- 
 radation. 
 
 " ' Let us, with microscopic faith, penetrate these dark 
 clouds which hang so ominously around us, and look 
 trustingly and hopefully into the future. 
 
 " ' We will not always be thus. The hill is before 
 us ; we must either remain inactive at the base, or go 
 up. The ascension will be easier, when we make it 
 hand in hand together, dearest. 
 
 " ' You have yet to learn the energy, courage, and 
 perseverance of your wee-pet wife. I already feel my- 
 self a David nay, more ; were fifty giants in the way 
 to impede my progress, I could slay them all, and lay 
 them lifeless at my feet. 
 
 " ' Courage, George ; though the waters are dark and
 
 86 EFFIBANDi;OR, 
 
 'turbid through which we must pass, I know there are 
 green fields beyond, and flowers and sunshine, and, over 
 all, a calm, cloudless sky. 
 
 '"I fear not now to beat back and struggle with the 
 dark waves of this turbid stream ; we shall soon be be- 
 yond it, and so happy.' 
 
 " The morning dawned, and they were hurried from 
 their couch, where they had spent a sleepless night of 
 intense anxiety and bitter anguish, and bidden to make 
 their preparations as brief as possible, as the magistrate 
 was in haste to proceed on his journey. 
 
 " Neither my father or mother tasted aught of the food 
 which had been prepared ; and they even turned from 
 it with loathing and disgust. 
 
 " ' Never mind,' said the dignitary. ' A day or two 
 of hard riding, through this sharp November air, will 
 whet their dainty teeth, I'll warrant me. 
 
 " ' Never mind the breakfast. They will come around 
 all right, when they get accustomed to Esquire Stone- 
 heart's luxuries. Pooh ! what right have paupers to 
 luxuries ? 
 
 " * The fact is, we have too many of them to grant 
 them many indulgences. Ha ! ha ! It would take all 
 the funds of Uncle Sam's treasury to buy luxuries for 
 such a host of lazy gormandizers. This way to my con- 
 veyance, gentlefolk,' he said mockingly, as he led the 
 way to the back door. 
 
 " ' It may be it is not quite so nice as the one you
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 87 
 
 used to ride in, and which, unfortunately, was amongst 
 the missing on the night of that dreadful fire ; but it is 
 
 such as the good fathers of B furnish, when they 
 
 send abroad to recall their prodigal children to the home 
 which their bounty provides. 
 
 " ' The fact is, Miss,' he continued, as he placed my 
 mother upon the rough, hard seat, beside her ex- 
 hausted and fainting husband ; ' the fact is, Miss, we 
 live too fast in these degenerate times. We build 
 houses and barns, and add to them greater magnifi- 
 cence than that of Solomon's temple. And then we 
 say we will make unto ourselves a golden idol, that we 
 may worship it, forgetting that there is a jealous God, 
 who, in his anger, can send the scathing fire, and who 
 makes your idols and wealth disappear like chaff before 
 the whirlwind. 
 
 " ' There, now, we are all right, eh ? ' he continued, 
 as he tucked the scanty corners of the rough blanket 
 around the shivering form of the invalid. 
 
 " ' A very good day to you, Madam,' he said, raising 
 his whip, and giving a sly nod and wink to the hostess, 
 which she well knew how to understand. ' Take very 
 good care of the children, and don't let them run away 
 before I make another trip east'ard, because I shall be 
 responsible for all the missing ones, you know. 
 
 " ' The fact is, Miss Lee, I didn't come prepared to 
 take a whole township ; and so I must wait for another 
 cargo and further orders.'
 
 88 EFFIEANDI. 
 
 " ' Oh, here ! John ! Nelly ! Stop, sir ! You are not 
 going to leave my children here alone, unprotected and 
 beggared, while you tear us helplessly and hopelessly 
 away from them ? ' said my mother, pleadingly. 
 
 " ' John ! Nelly ! ' she cried again, with heart-rend- 
 ing anguish, as, with a wild, hysterical bound, she made 
 a desperate effort to leap from the carriage. 
 
 " But the functionary anticipated her frenzied designs, 
 and sprang upon the back of the sleigh behind her, at 
 the same time throwing his long, sinewy limbs on 
 either side of her delicate neck, till his large shapeless 
 feet, encased in heavy cowhide boots, fell like leaden 
 weights upon her lap. 
 
 " And in this indelicate, inhuman, and vise-like posi- 
 tion he held her, lashing his horse to the utmost of his 
 speed, till the cries of the children, who had run 
 screeching imploringly to be taken with their parents, had 
 died away behind the receding hill-tops, and the fren- 
 zied convulsions of the distracted mother had given place 
 to a swoon of death-like insensibility, from which, happy 
 would it have been for her, had she never recovered. 
 
 " The sufferings of my mother were indescribable, both 
 physically and mentally, through that tedious journey, 
 by the disgusting position in which she was compelled 
 to remain in the hours of her unhappy consciousness, 
 and the inexpressible agony which she suffered by being 
 torn, with such inhuman voracity, from the helpless 
 lambs of her little flock.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 KFFIE'S PARENTS COMMENCE THE PRIVATIONS OF PAUPERISM 
 
 UNDER THE AUSPICES OP ALEXANDER STONEHEART, ESQ. AN 
 
 UNEXPECTED FRIEND. 
 
 u '/^\ EORGE,' she whispered, when at nightfall 
 
 VJT she laid her head despairingly upon his almost 
 pulseless bosom, ' George, is there a God ? one who 
 says, " Vengeance is mine ; I will repay ? " Tell me, 
 dearest, is it so? or am I am I mad, frenzied, or 
 dreaming ? George ! have we passed through so 
 much, and survived it, while a just and holy God has 
 been looking calmly down upon the scene of wrong and 
 anguish ? ' 
 
 " ' Hush, Effie, dear ; God's arm is not shortened 
 that it cannot save, neither is his ear heavy that it can- 
 not hear. 
 
 " ' Our wrongs and sufferings are all written down in 
 His unerring Book, and in a way that we know not 
 of, He will avenge them, and carry us safely through 
 the almost overwhelming tide of this dark, turbid stream, 
 to the green fields and smiling sunlight beyond. 
 
 " ' Effie, where is your courage of a night ago ? How 
 many giants have you left lifeless on the battlefield ?
 
 90 EFFIEANDi;OR, 
 
 " ' Come, wifey dear,' continued my father, ' cheer 
 up, for you know that we must encourage each other, 
 or our children will be left unloved orphans in their 
 helpless infancy.' 
 
 " ' But, husband,' said my mother, ' they are already 
 wrested from us by a hand more cruel and relentless 
 than that of death.' 
 
 " ' Only for a while is this separation from us. I am 
 going where I am known ; and if I can only recover 
 a little, I shall soon find my way to some kind, sym- 
 pathetic heart. And I shall institute a complaint 
 against the tyrannical treatment of to-day, if I live, 
 and God will help the right, wifey mine.' 
 
 " ' George ! ' She could say, no more ; for her head 
 nestled closer to his bosom, and her heart found relief 
 in a gush of friendly, soothing tears the first that had 
 cooled the hot lava of her burning brain since the cruel 
 separation from her tender babes. 
 
 " A sweet sleep stole over them, like the soft whisper- 
 ings of angels. And when the harsh voice of that 
 tyrannical official aroused them at early dawn, it seemed 
 like drawing them away from the enchanting strains of 
 a seraph's lyre, to the rack and torture of some hated 
 inquisition. 
 
 * 
 
 " Oh, that night of peaceful repose ! never again 
 forgotten through the years which sped by in their 
 after-life of shadows and sunlight. That day they ar-
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 91 
 
 rived at their destination, and commenced the pauper's 
 fare under the auspices of Alexander Stoneheart, Esq. 
 
 " He had his warm parlors, his soft carpets, his easy 
 chairs, and comfortable lounges ; and upon his table 
 were savory meats, tempting viands, delicious and invig- 
 orating cordials ; fruits, foreign and domestic, which 
 would have been so grateful to the tardy convalescence 
 of my father, or the varying cravings of my mother, in 
 her delicate situation. 
 
 " But no : ' What business have paupers with luxu- 
 ries ? ' said the pompous Esquire. 
 
 " A pine table in the uncarpeted kitchen, a corn-cake, 
 fried pork and potatoes, with now and then the deli- 
 cious addition of salt-fish and weak tea or coffee, made 
 from remnants which had been removed from his table, 
 was good enough for a pauper's fare. And as for 
 easy chairs for the sick ones ' Oh, the very idea was 
 presumptuous. Who ever heard of such a thing ? ' 
 
 " But Esquire Stoneheart did consider the delicate 
 health of my parents, at least he thought so, enough to 
 grant them the indulgence of a sleeping apartment over 
 the cooking-room. ' It was large enough for all the fam- 
 ily,' so he said, ' and warm enough too, for the chim- 
 ney ran directly through the centre of the room, warmed 
 by the heat below. The roaches might be a little thick 
 there, but ' 
 
 " ' La ! ' said the fascinating Miss Stoneheart, ' poor
 
 92 EFFIEANDI|OR, 
 
 folks are accustomed to such things. And paupers will 
 never mind roaches in Esquire Stoneheart's mansion.' 
 
 " ' Some paupers would not, my dear Angelica,' an- 
 swered Mrs. Stoneheart, complacently ; ' but you know 
 the Lees have been accustomed to a different style of 
 living, so genteel and high-minded withal, that I fear 
 we shall find some trouble in bringing them down to 
 a pauper's fare.' 
 
 " ' Leave that to me, mother, and I will soon make 
 them know their places, as easily as Brown and Brindle 
 and Broad-horns know their places in the tie-up. 
 
 " ' She has got to serve us better than to fold her 
 lady-like hands, and sigh and sob away the live-long 
 day, over the ease 'and happiness which have forever 
 passed away. 
 
 " ' You know how many old garments we have got up 
 in the garret? Well, I am going to have an over- 
 hauling there, and set her to work upon them. It will 
 be just the kind of work for her, in her present situa- 
 tion, because she can do it in her own room, and keep 
 her brats there too. 
 
 " ' Only think, what nice large warm mats they will 
 make for the entries, dining-room, and chambers appro- 
 priated to the hired men. And he can tie the thrumbs 
 together which we want to weave into the horse-blan- 
 kets, just as well as to lay there groaning and lounging 
 away his time, to no possible purpose. Oh, we can 
 make them useful, just with a little tact and persever-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 93 
 
 ance. And I mean to do it, too, for it shall never be 
 said that Esquire Stoneheart's mansion contains any 
 live drones." 
 
 " A few days after the arrival of my parents at the 
 Stoneheart mansion, a gentleman, who had known my 
 father's family, heard of his misfortunes, and called im- 
 mediately to express his heart-felt sympathy for them, 
 suffering as they were from the afflictive dispensations 
 which had so recently been visited upon them. But he 
 had not prepared himself for such a recital of outrage, 
 insult, tyranny, and degradation as fell from their trem- 
 bling lips. And oh, how he wept, when they told 
 him of the duplicity practised upon them in regard to 
 their innocent children, the scene which followed, and 
 their present hopeless position in regard to them. 
 
 " ' Fear not,' said their kind friend, ' I will seek your 
 children, and, under my own protection, if our lives are 
 spared, they shall come safely to your yearning hearts. 
 
 " ' And George,' he continued, addressing my father, 
 ' arouse thee from this desponding torpor. All is not 
 yet hopelessly lost. Your life, youth, and intellect are 
 yet spared to you ; and these dear ones too,' he said, 
 looking around upon the little group, ' are they not 
 worth another effort ? 
 
 " ' Come, George,' he continued, ' I loved your father 
 too well to see his son remain long a a pauper, and 
 in trouble too. 
 
 " I have a little unoccupied cottage a few miles from
 
 94 EPFIBANDI. 
 
 here, and just the place for such a group as this. Take 
 it, and when you have grown strong, and well, and pros- 
 perous, buy it, if you wish, but while you remain sick 
 and poor it is yours, rent free. 
 
 " No thanks, George ; keep your seat Mrs. Lee ; I have 
 as yet done nothing, and therefore wish for no de- 
 monstrations of gratitude. Yield yourselves to the repose 
 you so much need, and in a very few days I will call on 
 you again.' And he glided from the room so quietly, 
 leaving such a ray of light, hope, and consolation, that it 
 seemed like the departure of some heavenly visitant. 
 
 " It was many moments before either of the occupants 
 of that dreary chamber could give utterance, in words, to 
 their deep and heart-felt emotions. For my mother was 
 weeping convulsively upon her husband's bosom ; and that 
 bosom was heaving and struggling with the reacting tide 
 of the turbid stream, through which they had so recently 
 passed. 
 
 " ' And now,' he said, ' oh now the green fields are in 
 view, the sunlight is pouring its beatific effulgence into 
 my soul. I feel its invigorating, its life-giving vitality, to 
 the heart's core, warming and stimulating the sluggish 
 current through every avenue of this emaciated form. 
 
 " ' Dear Effie,' he continued, ' I can bear those tears 
 now ; for I know that they are not born of sorrow and 
 anguish, but are like the dew-drops of a summer's morn, 
 kissed away by the cheering sun-rays of prosperity and 
 love.' "
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ANGELICA STONEHEART'S CASKET OF TREASURES. TAKEN BY 
 SURPRISE. ESQ. HOMEU'S GIFT OF GLEN COTTAGE TO THE 
 
 LEES. 
 
 " TVT ISS A N G E L I C A had occupied much of her 
 -^-'J- precious time amongst the old garments of the rag 
 barrels, arranging and rearranging the textures, shades, 
 and colors to her own precise, peculiar, and refined taste, 
 into various piles, and then summing up the probable 
 number of nice heavy mats which would be made from 
 them by the delicate fingers of over-nice, ladylike pau- 
 perism. 
 
 " And so, a few mornings subsequent to the events nar- 
 rated, she condescended to enter the little back chamber 
 over the cook-room, followed by a pauper with a huge 
 basket of assorted rags and cast-off clothing which she 
 was ordered to deposit upon the only unoccupied space 
 the small room would allow. 
 
 " ' Madam,' she said haughtily, addressing my mother, 
 ' I have observed that, for a few days, you have grown 
 rapidly convalescent, recovering marvellously from the 
 woe-begone appearance you assumed on your first ad- 
 mission to my father's keeping. And you are putting
 
 96 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 on airs, too, of dignified independence, as though you felt 
 not the loathsome degradation of a pauper's position. 
 
 " ' You are verj free indeed from the perplexities and 
 cares of domestic duties, and so loftily raised in the scale 
 of affluence, as to be the honored recipient of an annuity 
 provided by the charitable donations of the residents of 
 
 B ; and, in acquiescence to their wishes, my father 
 
 has taken you within his affluent home. 
 
 " ' It may be that has somewhat raised your ideas of 
 self-consequence. Indeed, you already assume the regal 
 dignity of an enthroned princess. But may I deign to 
 ask a favor of your royal highness ? 
 
 " ' There is a casket of treasures which, by my com- 
 mands, have been deposited lavishingly at your feet.' 
 
 " Her back was turned to the door, and she saw not a 
 tall form bending eagerly forward, with flushed cheek 
 and kindling eyes, listening with painful interest to the 
 words of insulting scorn which fell from her haughty lips. 
 
 " ' Spare them further insult, Miss,' he said, stepping 
 quickly forward ; ' these are my friends, and no longer 
 dependents within your affluent home.' 
 
 " ' Come, George, and my dear Mrs. Lee,' he said, 
 taking her hand with the warm cordiality of a true friend. 
 ' This is no place for you in your present state of health. 
 Come with me ; the storm is severe without, but you had 
 better brave the raging elements than the scorn and con- 
 tempt of unprincipled arrogance and pride. Come, my
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 97 
 
 dear friends, no more tears, for angds if angels can 
 weep have wept over your sorrows, and God himself 
 has come to your assistance.' 
 
 " Miss Angelica, with blanched cheek and trembling 
 step, made a hasty retreat from the room. 
 
 " She Avell knew who was this benevolent gentleman, the 
 friend and benefactor of my parents, in this their time of 
 bitter need. It was the wealthy Judge Homer ; and his 
 son, a noble specimen of manhood, just graduated with 
 the highest collegiate honors, had been paying very par- 
 ticular attention to Miss Angelica, and was just on the 
 eve of a declaration, or rather, he had fully made up his 
 mind to propose for her hand. 
 
 " But when his father returned that evening, and nar- 
 rated to his son the incidents of the morning, and the 
 part performed by the beautiful Angelica, it somewhat 
 cooled the ardor of his love for her ; and not wishing to 
 address in person one whom he could not now respect, he 
 penned her a note of dismissal ; and then, with his 
 father's consent, made preparations for a tour to a 
 distant State. 
 
 " My parents were speedily removed to the cottage 
 which Judge Homer had provided ; and, through his in- 
 fluence, it was comfortably furnished by a few benevolent 
 friends who had known my father in earlier days. 
 
 " And thus, by a few dollars, the loss of which no one
 
 98 EFFIEANDIJOR, 
 
 felt the poorer, they were removed from the foul stigma 
 and degradation of pauperism. 
 
 " But the wound, deep and painful, had left its life-im- 
 press upon their hearts ; crushing down the hopes and 
 aspirations which had so characterized them in other days. 
 
 " By the influence of Judge Homer, John and Nelly 
 were restored once more to the arms of our parents. 
 And when the warm April suns and showers began to 
 unfold the bursting buds of tree and flower, then I, a 
 wee-bit, feeble thing, came to claim their love and care. 
 
 " Years sped on, bringing with them the sunbeams and 
 shadows of real life, adding another and another in 
 helpless infancy to their little flock, though not as yet 
 removing any from them by the relentless hand of death. 
 
 " And so they struggled on, meekly and calmly, hoping 
 and praying that the bright elysium would yet open to 
 their view, and crown their unceasing efforts. 
 
 "But every succeeding year brought them only what 
 the past had done, an addition to their family, or ex- 
 penses incurred by sickness, or misfortunes in various 
 other ways beyond their power to avert. 
 
 " ' Thus far shalt thou come, and no further,' seemed 
 written upon the success for which they had struggled so 
 hopefully and so long. And my father, mentally and 
 physically shattered, grew inert and desponding ; and 
 my mother, feeble and emaciated from the weight of sor- 
 row and the many cares which oppressed her.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 99 
 
 " John was obliged to leave his books and go to service. 
 Farmer Smith held out glowing inducements to him, 
 which he accepted for the sake of the dear ones at home. 
 
 " ' Let us trust that God rules the destinies of men,' 
 said my mother, encouragingly to him, ' and may be that 
 something will turn up for the better by-and-by. 
 
 " 'After all, it is not so bad, Johnny ; you will be so near 
 home, and can run in and play a bit with the baby, romp 
 with Nelly, and spin the top a moment for Charley, read 
 a story or two for Eddy, and bring me fresh wild flowers 
 every morning from your own favorite dell, for my little 
 vase on the mantle nook ; and when you are sick, you 
 can come to me, and I shall nurse you so tenderly. 
 John, it might be worse. Cheer up, my noble boy, and 
 hope for the best.' 
 
 " And farmer Smith laid his broad, hard palm caress- 
 ingly upon his shoulder, and said cheerfully, ' You must be 
 my Johnny now. Bright and Golden are lazily chewing 
 their cuds, waiting for the plow-boy's whistle and smart 
 " jee-up." The little black pony is capering at will over 
 the highlands and lowlands, for want of an expert little 
 rider. Old Rove stretches himself at leisure in his little 
 sunny nook, waiting for a companion to chase the cunning 
 fox, the bounding doe, the nimble squirrel, and explore 
 the underground castles of the timid hare. 
 
 " ' The fields of grain are waving their golden heads in- 
 vitingly for the glittering sickle, and the reaper's song.
 
 100 EFFIE AND I ; OK, 
 
 And then will come the long merry hay-days, and corn- 
 huskings, and apple-frolics, and cider-making, and oh, 
 such jolly times as we farmers have, worth all the schools 
 and books, pronouns and professions in Christendom.' 
 
 " Time passed on, but my brother found no time for 
 laughter or pleasant interchanges with the dear ones 
 at home. 
 
 " The wee-bit baby had turned his violet eyes, with a 
 coaxing ' goo-goo,' many, many times to the cottage door 
 for the wonted smile and caress. 
 
 " Charlie's top lay unspun, the stories unread ; Nelly 
 moped and sighed for the gleesome romp ; the flowers 
 had withered in the vase, which stood untouched in the 
 little nook. 
 
 " Old Rove was still stretching himself at leisure, for 
 the want of a companion in the merry chase ; the little 
 black pony bounded as lightly as ever over the highlands 
 and lowlands, waiting for his expert little rider. 
 
 " His reaper's song was the song of the captive. * The 
 long, merry hay-days' were any thing but a pastime 
 and mirthfulness. 
 
 " Work, work, work, from early morn till the eventide. 
 No days for relaxation. No hours for careless sport on 
 the smooth green lawn, where the restless school-boy 
 rolled his ball and v hoop. 
 
 " No time to ease his heart-yearnings and heart-achings 
 with books or play. But in the deep midnight hour,
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 101 
 
 when none but the All-seeing witnessed his lofty aspira- 
 tions, he resolved to press onward and upward, never 
 diverging from the right, though myriads of formidable 
 barriers should appear to obstruct his progress. 
 
 " ' Great men have lived before me,' he said ; ' great 
 men will live after me. And what has made them 
 great? What more will make them great, but in- 
 domitable will and perseverance ? They are at my com- 
 mand, they shall be my servants. The path to honor 
 is not one of repose ; nor can I hope to be transported, 
 without an effort, to the enchanting bowers of paradisi- 
 acal ease and beauty. But " onward and upward " shall 
 be my motto, never diverging from the right till the 
 elysian is in view, and the prize won and secured.' 
 
 9*
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIFE'S CHANGES. THE LEES IN GLEN COTTAGE. THE FEARFUL 
 VISITANT. EFFIE AND HER BROTHER ALONE. 
 
 "J71IFTEEN YEARS! What a long space in 
 
 JL the annals of time. How manj have grown from 
 childhood to youth. How many from youth to manhood. 
 How many from maturity have passed somewhat adown 
 the shady side, and from green old age to helpless im- 
 becility. 
 
 " Many, with joyful acclamations, have been ushered 
 into existence ; and many, with the wail of despair and 
 broken hopes, have passed along to the spirit-land. 
 
 " Fortunes have been won and lost. Friends have 
 deserted and forgotten. Eyes have wept, hearts have 
 bled, which have been unused to sorrow. And death 
 has borne along, on the sweeping tide, the rich spoils he 
 has gathered in the space of fifteen long years. 
 
 " And they had passed away since my parents took 
 possession of their cottage home, and I had come with 
 feeble wail to claim their love and care. Time and 
 sorrow had not passed lightly over that humble home ; 
 for the voices of gladness and mirth, that erst rever-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 103 
 
 berated there, were hushed, one after another, in the 
 silence of sorrow and death. 
 
 " Yes, that stern messenger, Death, entered many 
 times unbidden that cottage door. 
 
 " First, the joyful carol of the baby-pet was hushed in 
 death. The tiny, waxen fingers lay motionless over the 
 pulseless bosom ; and the soft, blue-veined lids drooped 
 heavily over the violet-tinted eyes. 
 
 " How the little band then flocked together to weep 
 their tears of sorrow over our little wee-pet, and 
 whisper a word of condolence to each stricken heart. 
 Oh ! it was sorrow such as had never before visited our 
 humble home. 
 
 " The little family had been scattered long before, but 
 not in death. Other homes had sheltered them, but 
 sometimes they fled back to our own home-nest to mingle 
 together our tears of joy and sorrow. 
 
 " Now one had departed. Our little household idol 
 had been shattered, and our hearts bled that it must be 
 so. How silent and desolate seemed our home, when 
 its joyful carols were hushed. Death ! how unwel- 
 come were thy visitations in our little home. Not one 
 too many had ever come to gladden our humble abode. 
 Poor, but the mite was not meagrely divided. 
 
 " The turf was yet fresh over the baby's little grave, 
 when another little mound was raised by its tiny side. 
 Charley had laid himself wearily down beside his childish
 
 104 EFFIE AND IJ OR, 
 
 toys, as a white-winged seraph floated around him, whis- 
 pering of heaven, of golden harps, of angel bands ; 
 wooing him with soft, delicious, and enchanting strains 
 to her happy spirit-home. 
 
 " Then Eddy, the little studious Eddy, grew pale and 
 wan and weary. A brighter light was in his eye, a 
 deeper flush was on his cheek, and a hollow cough fell 
 like a funereal knell upon the heart of his anxious mother. 
 Nought could save him ; for when the autumn winds 
 swept rudely by, and the summer flowers faded away from 
 the earth, then they laid him quietly down beside the 
 baby's grave, in the long and sweet repose of death. 
 
 " Then Nelly, the eldest born, so good and gentle 
 withal, she in whom my mother had trusted to lean 
 upon in life's decline, passed away like a summer flower ; 
 and oh ! how we missed her in our cottage home. We 
 missed her gleesome laugh, her lightsome song, her sis- 
 terly greetings, and welcome smiles. We missed her by 
 the hearth-stone, where we wept in heart-felt sorrow over 
 her untimely departure. 
 
 " Oh ! how desolate had our home become ; none now 
 remained in that dear home-nest but John and myself to 
 cheer the hearts of our stricken parents. And yet the 
 cravings of death were not appeased, till husband and 
 sire had been sacrificed upon the funereal pyre ; and we 
 and my mother returned alone and broken-hearted to 
 our desolate home and silent hearth.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 105 
 
 " Mj mother lived on, but hope seemed to have taken 
 its final departure from her. There were no bright rays 
 peering through the deep dark folds which closed so 
 ominously around her in those hours of widowed loneli- 
 ness. 
 
 " But one day the death-summons came to her, and 
 sudden and fearful was his coming. 
 
 " A deep groan of anguish arrested my ear. I knew my 
 mother was dying, for the purple life-blood oozed slowly 
 out from her pale, rigid lips, while she fell heavily back 
 into my extended arms, murmuring, in broken accents, 
 ' God help you, my children, for you will soon be alone 
 alone in a cold cold world. Alone ' 
 
 " ' mother ! mother ! ' I cried, in frantic dismay, 
 ' you must not, cannot die, and leave us here alone. 
 God will not take you from us. He will not lay His 
 hand so unkindly, so heavily upon us. 
 
 " ' Has He not already made our home and our hearts 
 desolate ? Oh, so desolate ! And will He now be so 
 unjust as to tear asunder the bleeding, quivering wounds, 
 deep in the heart's core, His oft-repeated scourge has 
 inflicted there ? 
 
 " ' Can God be merciful,' I asked, in that moment 
 of frantic grief, ' and yet deal so unkindly with the 
 creatures He has made in His own likeness and for 
 His own pleasure ? 
 
 " ' What have we done to call down His vengeance so
 
 106 EPFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 oft and so heavily upon us ? Oh God ! if there is a 
 God, stay thy hand, and spare the remaining victims 
 of thy fearful, unmerited vengeance.' 
 
 " ' Effie ! ' whispered my dying mother, ' there is a 
 God. Never, no never, in all the sorrows of thy after- 
 life, give up thy hope, thy trust in Him. He will surely 
 be to thee an anchor firm and steadfast as the Rock of 
 Ages. 
 
 " ' Lean upon Him in all the ills that betide thee, and 
 it will be well. I am dying ; trust in God, my children, 
 and you will find Him all-sufficient. He will never, 
 never forsake you.' 
 
 " ' mother ! mother ! ' I cried in dismay, ' you 
 must not die ! We cannot part with you ! We cannot 
 live without your love ! mother ! stay yet a little 
 while longer, or take us with you.' 
 
 " But she heard not my frantic appeal, for the pulses 
 had ceased their vibrations, and that loved form was 
 cold and rigid in death. 
 
 " Who can portray the feelings of a desolate one, when 
 all of life and love and hope have departed ; when all 
 the heart-blossoms have withered and faded away ; when 
 hope's meteor light no longer flashes in the distance ; 
 and despair throws around us the drapery of sable 
 gloom ? 
 
 " It was thus with me and my brother, as we sat by 
 the vacant hearth in our silent and desolate home. No
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 107 
 
 lightsome tread or gladsome voice cheered its silent 
 gloom. No friendly condolence fell like the healing 
 balm upon our wounded hearts. No strong arm was 
 extended to lead and support us through life's dreary 
 pathway. 
 
 " Oh, how we missed the glad voices that erst rang 
 out in innocent glee, when we romped together in our 
 childish sports. But they had all passed away, and a 
 sad, sad change had been wrought in our childhood's 
 home/'
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 EFFIE'S BROTHER BECOMES A STUDENT. HIS SUDDEN DEATH. 
 EFFIE ALONE AND HOMELESS. RESORTS TO A COTTON MILL. 
 KATE STANTON'S DEBUT. 
 
 " i~\ U R HOME became insupportable to us in its 
 v_/ loneliness, after they had all passed away ; and 
 as my brother was wishing to pursue his education, we 
 proposed to dispose of the cottage and a few acres of 
 land belonging to it ; the proceeds of which would enable 
 him to go forward in that desired object. 
 
 " I was to remain with an acquaintance until he could 
 make provision for me, in the vicinity of the Institution, 
 where he designed to pursue his studies, the completion 
 of which would prepare him for usefulness and honor, in 
 the ranks of the world. 
 
 " He had been a student in that institution about six 
 months, when a letter reached me with the information 
 that he had procured for me a very desirable situation 
 in the family of one of the teachers, where I could have 
 the benefit of a superior school, the advantages of a quiet 
 home and daily intercourse with him, for the mere 
 trifling expense of a few hours of needle-work, daily
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 109 
 
 given to the family as a recompense for my board. I 
 thankfully availed myself of this proposal, and immedi- 
 ately set out, in compliance with his request, to join him 
 
 in the distant village of A , and take up my abode 
 
 in a stranger's home. 
 
 " When I arrived I found my brother in the wild 
 delirium of a malignant fever. The old doctor shook 
 his head ominously, when I wildly interrogated him for a 
 word of hope and encouragement, in relation to his 
 recovery. 
 
 " My heart had been bounding and leaping, with hope- 
 ful anticipations, through that long, and it seemed almost 
 endless journey, to meet my dear, my only brother, 
 where I could weep out all my heari^sorrows, and twine 
 a garland from my newly fledged hopes and the bursting 
 flower-buds which had so recently sprung up beneath the 
 sunny rays of my young life-path, reaching far away into 
 the undimmed future. 
 
 " And I could not, oh, I could not fall back again 
 into the dark shadows which had ever before thrown 
 around me their bereaving shroud. 
 
 " A few hours after my arrival, my brother lay still 
 and cold in the repose of death, in the sleep that knows 
 no earth-waking. 
 
 " Many -were the prayers which were oflered up to the 
 orphan's God for the bereft sister. Many were the 
 tears of sympathy which fell unfeignedly for the 
 10
 
 110 EFFIE AND 1 ; OR, 
 
 orphaned stranger. Many were the words of condolence 
 which trembled upon the lips, to soothe my heart-anguish. 
 All, all were like mockeries to my stricken and desolate 
 heart. 
 
 " I could not be comforted. There was no earth- 
 balm that could heal the bleeding lacerations of my lone 
 heart ; and I cried out, in my deep anguish, with the 
 psalmist : ' Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, 
 and mine acquaintance into darkness.' 
 
 " They buried him beneath the cypress shade, in the 
 little enclosure appropriated to the stranger and student, 
 while his classmates and friends reared a memento of 
 respect above his silent resting-place. 
 
 " I could not remain in A ; I could not return to 
 
 the desolations of 'my childhood's home; for every asso- 
 ciation was so interwoven with the dark, painful, afflicting 
 bereavements of the past, as to make remembrance, and 
 even life itself, unendurable. 
 
 " Study seemed loathsome to the overwrought emo- 
 tions of my bereaved heart ; and I longed for forgetful- 
 ness, for annihilation even, to shroud me from the painful, 
 insupportable memories of the past. 
 
 " But death and forgetfulness come not at our bidding ; 
 and so I have sought the din, and clatter, and excite- 
 ments of a cotton mill to lull " 
 
 A loud peal of merry laughter broke like a flood of 
 sunlight upon the orphan's sad recital ; and the next
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. Ill 
 
 moment a gay, laughing, rollicking girl, bounded into the 
 room, setting chairs, tables, and band-boxes to dancing 
 Yankee reels and devil's jigs, by the wild outbursts of 
 her youthful hilarity, "which," she said, "was just as 
 much a part and parcel of her nature, as the marrow 
 was to the bone of Jack the Giant-killer. 
 
 " I am," she continued, "just as natural as a natural 
 fool ; and could not for the life of me conceal my cloven 
 foot, even if King Solomon, in all his glory, should appear 
 before me in the dazzling radiance of his majesty and 
 power. 
 
 " Sister Sarah, that little demure Methodist girl, 
 whom Mother Gourdon designates my ' chum,' tells me 
 that I'm in the broad road to destruction, and unless I 
 wheel about and take up my burden, and creep through 
 the little narrow gate, or the camel's eye I've forgot- 
 ten which, that there '11 be no mercy or hope for me. 
 Just as if such a leopard as I could change these spots 
 for the snowy plumage of a dove, or an angel's drapery. 
 
 " I can digest her ' amens,' and ' glories,' and ' halle 
 hallelujah's,' and all that ; but her fire and brimstone- 
 I can't swallow." 
 
 " Kate Stanton ! will you never give over your 
 wild freaks ? " said a soft voice behind me, and looking 
 up I saw a very sweet, placid face, half hidden within the 
 deep shadow of a plain Shaker bonnet, with large dark
 
 112 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 eyes bent half sadly, half reproachfully, upon the gay 
 girl whom she had designated as Kate Stanton. 
 
 " Wild oats must be sown, sister Sarah, and the sooner 
 they are scattered to the four winds, the better it will be 
 for the peace of all concerned. 
 
 " So let me work while the day lasts, and the sun 
 shines, and the flowers bloom, and the rivulets leap, and 
 dance, and sing, for the joy that now is ; while the rain- 
 bow of hope and promise is bright and undimmed in my 
 life-sky. 
 
 " Dark clouds will come soon enough, and until they 
 do, 
 
 ' We'll make the best of life we can, 
 Nor render it a curse.' 
 
 She went on, singing in her wild, rollicking glee, 
 
 ' And since we are here, with friends so dear, 
 We'll drive dull cares away.' 
 
 " I shall remember you at the throne of grace, Kate," 
 said sister Sarah, meekly, as she took her little book of 
 Revival Hymns, and went noislessly out to meet her 
 brethren in the social class. 
 
 " I shall be ever so much obliged to you, sister Sarah, 
 if you will ; for I always like to be remembered to my 
 best friends. Only I wish I was a little more worthy of 
 remembrance. But don't sing that dubious song, ' We
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 113 
 
 won't go home till morning ; ' because, if you do,- you will 
 find me, and the bed too, a dreadful one-sided affair 
 when you do come. 
 
 ' Sing me the songs that I used to hear, 
 Long, long ago long, long ago.' " 
 
 The pale, drooping Effie, had nestled closer to my side, 
 and pillowed her bright head lovingly upon my shoulder, 
 while the gay Kate Stanton flitted out and in like a 
 fairy elf, carrying sunshine and gladness wherever she 
 went, till the heavy booming of the factory bells an- 
 nounced the hour of bedtime. 
 
 10*
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 EFFIE BECOMES A FACTORY GIRL. KATE 8TANTON TAKING LES- 
 SONS IN THE MYSTERIES OF WOMAN'S RIGHTS. 
 
 THE NEXT morning Effie and I mingled with 
 the throng which rushed through the ample gate- 
 way, or thoroughfare, opening into the M yard ; 
 
 where she, for the first time, was ushered into a cotton 
 mill, and introduced to my overseer, who readily con- 
 sented to receive her. 
 
 Informing her that she could be my " spare hand," 
 for a week or two ; and by that time the looms adjoining 
 mine would be vacated by the present occupant, who 
 was already on her notice, to which she should be the 
 successor. 
 
 Effie's large blue eyes glistened with a hopeful tear at 
 this announcement, and her pale cheek flushed with 
 animation, when I answered her interrogation, as to the 
 meaning of " spare hand." 
 
 " Then we are not to be separated, Rosa dear ? " 
 she ejaculated. " This is so kind ; I know my task will 
 be light and pleasant too, with you always by my side.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 115 
 
 How much I have to thank you for, my very dear 
 friend." 
 
 So Effie and I became inseparable companions. I 
 instructed her in the art and mysteries of clogs, belts, 
 drums, flying shuttles, dresser's knots, and the many 
 little essentials belonging to a good weaver ; to all of 
 which I found her an expert and tractable pupil, as well 
 as companion and friend. 
 
 Thus days and weeks and months flew pleasantly and 
 rapidly by, with very little change or variation, save an 
 occasional letter from our friends, or some wild, uproarious 
 freak of Kate Stanton, with the little sanctimonious sister 
 Sarah, which always ended with a halle-hallelujah from 
 the little Revival Hymn-book, or the promise that she 
 would make her the burden of her prayers the next class- 
 night. " And," she continued, " I have faith to belie v- 
 that the tune will come when^ you will be one of the 
 strong pillars of the church which you now so lightly and 
 thoughtlessly revile." 
 
 " And when I do, sister Sarah," answered Kate, laugh- 
 ingly, " you may be sure that I shall never be guilty of 
 hiding my light under a bushel, nor burying my talent 
 in the sand-bank. But you will find me in the pulpit, or 
 on the house-top, or a watchman upon the strong walls of 
 Bashan, or a travelling preacher, with the whole world 
 for a circuit. 
 
 " But your itinerants and locals, and superannuaries,
 
 116 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 x's, and units, pshaw, I shall make a shaking amongst 
 the dry bones when I do start, sister Sarah, which will 
 make up for all the time I have wasted in my outfit and 
 Vanity -Fair preparations. I am even now taking lessons 
 in the mysteries of woman's rights, and when I have so 
 far advanced as to be a good imitator of Lucy Stone, or 
 some of her contemptibles, I am going to start out on a 
 lecturing tour against the rights of man generally, from 
 the Lilliputian Tom Thumb to old Adam, away back in 
 the garden of Eden, who didn't know any better than to 
 nibble that apple, just because his silly wife told him that 
 he must. 
 
 " Wasn't he a thorough-going woman's rights man ? 
 And didn't that sarpent know it too, when he offered her 
 that apple, and told her to give Adam a piece, and all 
 that. 
 
 " Well, so you see that through her means the whole 
 world has become depopulated ; and Eden is not the only 
 place that has Adams and Eves, and sarpents and apples, 
 and advocates of the woman's rights system. Mother 
 Eve has got some representatives left yet, and daughters 
 too, who wouldn't mind nibbling an apple now and then, 
 with an Adam or too to munch the other side of it. 
 
 " I say it is time that there were some strong-minded 
 women, like myself, to come to the rescue of the weaker 
 party. And I'll do it, only let me get my lesson first, 
 and there will be more than one broken jug that will cry 
 out Katy-did.' "
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 117 
 
 " But I'm going out now, and spring is coming in, 
 that gay, laughing, rollicking, dancing spring, just like 
 this wildwood Kate. 
 
 " Yes, I'm going out ; out of the mill, out of the 
 boarding-house, out of the Spindle City, out into the 
 broad sunlight, out into the country, out among the 
 flowers, out into the wildwoods and glens and mountain 
 passes, out into the clear, free dancing zephyrs, and, out 
 of my wits, I verily believe, for the kind condescension 
 of my mother, in permitting me to undertake this great 
 feat of visiting her and my home in the back-woods, after 
 eighteen months of this nunnery sort of life in a cotton- 
 'mill. 
 
 " But don't flatter yourself, sister Sarah, that there is 
 any peace for the wicked ; for I'm coming back again. 
 1 Oh, a factory life is the life for me,' " she sang gaily. 
 " Yes, I'm coming back again after the sacrifice has been 
 offered up. For wild as I am, I never could look calmly 
 upon martyrdom and the offering up of innocence upon 
 the altar of a " 
 
 " What mean you, Kate ? " I asked, surprised at the 
 turn her raillery had taken. 
 
 " What mean I, Rosa ? " Why, I mean that the lamb 
 never can lie down with the wolf in these degenerate 
 times, without making the sacrifice of life and limb for 
 its innocent presumption. 
 
 " That little weeping willow of ours, or yours, pure
 
 118 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 as the snow-flake, spotless as the lily's folds, beautiful as 
 the morning, gentle as the floating zephyr of a summer's 
 eve, unsuspecting as the cooing dove, is about to make a 
 sacrifice of all, and more, of happiness and life, to that 
 Balaam's a long-eared colt. Oh, I lose all patience 
 when I think how blinded you all are by the false 
 blandishments and pretensions assumed by that un- 
 principled, heartless villain, Wilton Harriman." 
 
 " If he is a villain, Kate, he wears his mask well. For 
 it seems to me that I have never seen one more perfectly 
 a gentleman, more noble in heart and soul and principle, 
 than Wilton Harriman. And so active, too, in the church, 
 in the prayer-meetings, so earnest in his exhortations to 
 the unconverted " 
 
 " All moonshine, Rosa ; a wolf in sheep's clothing, 
 artfully concealing his long ears and claws from the little 
 lamb he has singled out, to gloat himself at leisure upon 
 the warm life-blood of her young heart, tih 1 the sacrifice 
 is complete. Why, I do believe that Nature herself will 
 cry out against this unequal oh, I know not what to call 
 it ; for the day has not arrived when the lamb and the 
 lion can lie down together in peaceful security and 
 happy trust." 
 
 " Nevertheless, Kate, I hope, for dear Effie's sake, that 
 your penetration will prove defective for once in your 
 life. And I even think it will. For, aside from his pre- 
 possessing appearance, his lofty principle, and unblemished
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 1J9 
 
 character, he has a home of comfort and security to offer 
 to our stricken lamb, our orphaned Effie." 
 
 " Better a thousand, a thousand times better spend 
 her life in a cotton mill, free from care and from sorrow 
 as the mountain zephyrs which fan the wild flowers by 
 the dancing stream. 
 
 " No, I can never see her give that little sinless hand 
 into the keeping of a tyrant's sensual grasp. I am going 
 home, and when I return again the sacrifice will be made, 
 and Effie will be far away."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. . 
 
 KATE 8TANTON GONE TO THE WILD-WOODS. EFFIE BECOMES A 
 i:i: I Hi:. HER HAPPY LEAVE-TAKING. 
 
 ONE Y E A R had flown happily by since Effie's 
 introduction to factory life ; and she had grown very 
 beautiful and hopeful and lovely, when Wilton Harriman 
 came a stranger to our city, and, attracted by her beauty 
 and gentleness withal, he sought and won her for his 
 trusting bride. 
 
 A new life seemed to dawn upon her, lighting, with 
 unclouded brilliancy, the far-off future ; for Effie's warm, 
 impulsive nature, seemed at once to yield to the cheer- 
 ing influence of his bland smiles and tender wooings. 
 
 And when he asked her to become his own little wife, 
 and go with him to his rural home, she laid her hand all 
 trustingly within his, and murmured forth her heart's 
 devotion, all unconscious that treachery lay concealed 
 beneath that handsome, calm, and graceful exterior. 
 
 She could not penetrate with her love-blinded eyes, as 
 Kate did, his shallow-heartedness, or see the dark plague- 
 spots which lay concealed beneath the assumed ex-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 121 
 
 pression of devotional love and tenderness, which he so 
 well knew how to call forth subservient to his will. 
 
 The winter had passed, the spring-tide was chanting 
 melodies all around us. Kate had flown to her native 
 bowers, and May, beautiful, joyous, laughing May, had 
 come to twine a bridal wreath of sunshine and flowers 
 around the fair white brow of the happy bride. 
 
 They were to be married at the parsonage ; and every 
 arrangement had been completed for them to proceed 
 directly to their distant home. 
 
 The bridal morning dawned, but the sky was com- 
 pletely shrouded in the pall-like blackness of the tomb, 
 and the rain poured down in fearful torrents upon the 
 already drenched earth. 
 
 Not even a zephyr swept by to change the fearful 
 monotony of that bridal morn. Were Kate's words pro- 
 phetic ? which said, " I do believe that nature will cry 
 out against this unequal oh, I know not what to call it." 
 
 A something seemed to whisper, " they were. Nature 
 weeps over the dark fate of the orphan bride." How I 
 would at that moment have plucked her as a brand from 
 the burning, and sheltered that innocent lamb, in my 
 heart of hearts, from the fire and the altar upon which I 
 feared the love and hopes of her young life must so soon 
 be offered up as a sacrifice. 
 
 I would not, for the world, have breathed my sus- 
 11
 
 122 EFFIE AND I J OR, 
 
 picions to Effie, for she looked upon him as a being of 
 immaculate purity and perfection. 
 
 They were married ; and, when the guests had all 
 departed, I pressed her hands within my own, and 
 looked down, down, through the clear depths of her 
 love-lit eyes, into the heart where no guile or fear of 
 treachery had ever entered. 
 
 " Effie," I whispered, " you are happy now ; and 
 God grant that the love-light which now throws its ra- 
 diance upon your life-path, may never again be dark- 
 ened by the storm-clouds of sorrow. But should they 
 come upon you, Effie," I said, with emphasis, " as come 
 they may, then come to me, and remember that my 
 heart and hand are ready to receive you. 
 
 " Although all others turn coldly away, and pass by 
 on the other side, regardless of your need, this heart 
 will ever be ready to receive and cherish you. I am 
 your long-tried friend, and you know that I am not one 
 to change lightly." 
 
 Effie could not speak the words which trembled upon 
 her lips, but I read, in the expression of the tearful eyes, 
 the language of her grateful, appreciative heart. 
 
 " Mr. Harriman," I continued, resigning the fair 
 white^hand of the bride to its rightful owner, " take 
 the prize you have won. Cherish it in your heart of 
 hearts ; and let no sorrow, which your own faithful love
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 123 
 
 and manly arm can crush back, come near to mar the 
 blissful anticipations of her bridal morn. 
 
 " Deal kindly and gently with the lone and stricken 
 dove which folds her weary wings and nestles so trust- 
 ingly within thy manly bosom. The Lord do so to thee, 
 and more also, if thou betrayest the sacred trust re- 
 posed in thee, or turn from the pure heart you have 
 won, to bow in guilt at another's shrine." 
 
 He took the. hand of his bride, and led her to the 
 carriage which was to convey her from the friends who 
 had loved her long and well. 
 
 Effie waved me a kindly adieu, while the tears fell 
 from the long drooping lashes, mingling with the heavy 
 shower-drops which gathered thickly and ominously 
 around her. 
 
 I shuddered, as I thought of the fate which might 
 await the bride in her husband's home, and involun- 
 tarily sent up a prayer to high Heaven in behalf of the 
 orphan upon whom the hand of God had been so oft 
 and so heavily laid, that the doom might pass on and 
 away from that innocent and guileless one. 
 
 The sun peered through the scattering storm-clouds, 
 and anon burst upon us with all the effulgence of its 
 unclouded splendor. 
 
 The storm had passed away, and not another cloud 
 was visible upon the clear blue sky through that long 
 summer's day. And a glorious day it was, with the
 
 124 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 broad golden sunlight, the smiling flowers, and fragrant 
 buds, bursting into bloom. 
 
 The clear, shrill music of the woodland songsters 
 rang through the deep, heavy foliage of the swaying 
 branches ; the loud murmuring of the swollen streams 
 and distant water-falls mingling with the joyful bleating 
 of the flocks and lowing of the herd on the hills and 
 pasture-land. 
 
 Oh, such music : the music of nature. all around me ; 
 ihe broad golden sunlight laying upon the green herb- 
 age ; the smiling flowers, the shower-drenched earth ; 
 all burst upon me like a holy unction from the spirits 
 world. 
 
 
 
 And involuntarily I exclaimed, " God grant, Effie, 
 that such thy future life may be. Unclouded sunshine 
 upon thy flower-strewn path, music and melody in thy 
 heart, and in thy home, and in the world beyond." 
 
 I thanked God for the sunlight, for the clear blue 
 sky, and the sweet music which rang out from the 
 forest bowers ; and for the gladsome murmuring of the 
 waterfalls, and the fragrance of the bursting flower- 
 buds, which swept along on the light-winged zephyrs 
 on this, our Effie's bridal day. 
 
 And I tried to drive away from my mind the ominous 
 forebodings of the morning, as the storm-clouds had been 
 scattered by the summer breeze ; hoping and praying 
 that she had drank the last drop from her bitter cup of 
 sorrow.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CHANGES IN NUMBER TEN. PREPARATIONS FOR THE EASTHAM 
 
 CAMP-MEETING. SISTER LULA's DEPARTURE TO THE SPIRIT- 
 WORLD. VISIT TO MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. EFFIE'S HEART is 
 
 BREAKING. 
 
 MANY CHANGES were being wrought in 
 No. 10 during the summer months. Some, like 
 Effie, had gone out with the bridal wreath circling their 
 fair young brows ; with the bright halo of love illumin- 
 ating their hearts, and throwing a mellow radiance along 
 their future life-path ; as though no dark storm-clouds 
 would ever arise to shatter their love-freighted bark 
 out upon the broad ocean of matrimonial felicity. 
 
 Some, like Kate, had only gone out into the wild- 
 woods and glens, among the green fields and fresh wild- 
 flowers and sparkling streams and broad sunshine, to 
 sip the nectar from the mountain zephyrs, and return 
 again, laden with the aroma of a thousand flowers, ere 
 the autumn winds should sound their clarion, loud and 
 shrill, from their mountain eyry. 
 
 Sister Sarah free alike from her persecutor and 
 11*
 
 126 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 persecutions, and happy as her prayers and little Revival 
 Hymn Book . and class meetings and social gatherings 
 could make her was busily preparing for the Eastham 
 camp-meeting, where the old ship of Zion was moored 
 with safety every year, laden with faithful volunteers, 
 clad in their bright and glittering armors, ready to con- 
 quer or to die in the great opposing battle of sin and 
 the world. 
 
 And I was preparing for an approaching event in 
 my own life history, whether of weal or of woe, of sun- 
 shine or of shadows, the heart's prophecy would not 
 disclose to me. 
 
 But suffice it, I had given my heart's best and purest 
 love to one who, I doubted not, would cherish it in a 
 heart as true and faithful as my own. 
 
 I saw no ominous shadows looming up in the future 
 before me. Every thing seemed wrapt in a charm of 
 mystic beauty and enchantment. My future life-path 
 seemed strewn with thornless roses, with undimmed and 
 unbroken sunshine. 
 
 I felt that to possess the love of my husband, was 
 all-sufficient for my future life-bliss, whether I dwelt in 
 a forest cabin or a palace of luxurious wealth. 
 
 " Rich ! would not his love be an inexhaustible treas- 
 ure to the lone heart which had grown chill and slug- 
 gish by the sorrowful bereavements of former years ? 
 And would it not be bliss to lean upon the strong, manly
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 127 
 
 arm of my heart's chosen, which could and would pro- 
 tect me from every harm and threatening danger? 
 And shielded in his heart of hearts, no ill could betide 
 me. 
 
 And yet, with all these blissful anticipations, I could 
 not bid adieu to the pleasant associations of my factory 
 life, and go out from the protecting roof of No. 10 and 
 the kind matron who presided there, without a tear of 
 regret and a sad farewell. 
 
 Often, a little missive of sisterly remembrance had 
 reached me from Lula, but every line traced therein 
 seemed like the plaintive meanings of a stricken dove. 
 Her heart was with her idols ; and she mourned for 
 them as the lone dove mourns for the mate of its sum- 
 mer bowers. 
 
 I knew that they were calling her to their far-off 
 elysium, and often, around her lonely pillow, floated the 
 soft spirit-strains : 
 
 " We are coming, sister Lula, we are coming by and by ; 
 Be ready, sister Lula, for the time is drawing nigh." 
 
 Two years I had been a wife, when a summons came 
 to me that Lula was passing away, soaring aloft to the 
 higher life. As the fragrance from the crushed flower 
 is borne along by the passing zephyr, so she was pass- 
 ing, all gently and silently, to the spirit-world. 
 
 Again I hastened to the bedside of a dying sister.
 
 128 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 Dying? No! I have never made her dead, although 
 she breathed her last breath of the mortal upon my 
 throbbing bosom. 
 
 Even now, I hear her light form flitting by, and hear 
 the glad music tones of her sisterly greetings, and feel, 
 yes, many times I have felt her gentle touch upon 
 my shoulder, when tears and sorrow, desertion and 
 despair have darkly enveloped my life-path, and heard 
 her soft whisperings of hope directing me to a future 
 of sunshine and flowers. 
 
 They laid her beside her heart's idols, in the little 
 rural enclosure appropriated to the family, where the fir 
 and the cypress and the summer flowers blend in lofty 
 anthems of praise, such as the angels hear and chant 
 together. Still, 
 
 " She comes to me, and the solemn joy 
 
 Of her presence fills my room ; 
 Though far away, on a sunny slope, 
 
 Where I know the violets bloom, 
 Her grave is bright with the spring's first gift, 
 
 And fragrant with its perfume. 
 
 " She comes to me when I dream alone, 
 ^ In the hearth-glow bright and warm, 
 And hear the wail of the wintry winds, 
 As they strive with night and storm ; 
 She holds my hand, and leads me on, 
 Far into the golden morn.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 129 
 
 " Ah ! well I know that the violets blue 
 
 Are vailing her tender eyes, 
 But calm and deep in my soul they smile 
 
 Through the blooms of Paradise ; 
 And still I lean to her gentle clasp, 
 
 "Where darkest my pathway lies." 
 
 Once more I sought the enclosure where our mother 
 was peacefully reposing, and wept upon the senseless 
 turf the tears which welled up from a breaking heart. 
 How fleeting and shadow-like life appeared to me when 
 I bade adieu to the scenes of my childhood and the 
 graves of those loved ones for my distant home. 
 
 When I arrived there I found letters awaiting my 
 return ; one from Effie, one from Kate, and some from 
 the Spindle City. 
 
 " Effie ! " How eagerly I grasped the little delicate 
 missive her own hand had folded for her absent friend. 
 I had never seen Effie since her bridal morn ; and some- 
 how, of late, her letters had been few, and not very con- 
 fidential. 
 
 But I knew, from the sad tones and expressions of 
 her few communications, that the storm had gathered 
 around her, and was bursting relentlessly upon her 
 defenceless head. 
 
 Yes, I knew, long ago, that her heart was breaking, 
 and he in whom she had trusted so confidingly had 
 grown cold, perhaps unfaithful, or, indeed, had utterly 
 deserted her.
 
 130 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 I learned it all from the few letters which vainly 
 made an effort to represent a cheerful, hopeful spirit, 
 and a heart which would safely repose in the love of its 
 idol. 
 
 But here she speaks of desertion, utter, hopeless de- 
 sertion, and a heart breaking from the intensity of its 
 grief and utter loneliness. 
 
 " And oh ! " she continued, " my heart yearns for the 
 scenes and associations of my childhood, that my tor- 
 tured and burning brain may be soothed by the tears 
 shed over a mother's grave, and cheated into forgetful- 
 ness. Oh ! that I could forget the crushing, blighting 
 sorrows of my later years. 
 
 " Thus it has been with my whole life ; with all that I 
 loved, all that I have hoped for or trusted in. A chilling 
 mist, a mildew blight, the blackness and darkness of 
 despair, have shrouded and blasted forever. 
 
 " And the hope of solace in my childhood's home, is 
 perhaps only another disappointment in store for me. 
 Yet she, who now presides there, was in my happier 
 days my friend and confidant. We loved as sisters 
 love. But oh! adversity and sorrow bring desertion, 
 and she too will be changed." 
 
 With a heart throbbing with painful emotions, I laid 
 aside the letter of that heart-broken one, and turned for 
 relief to that of the light-hearted, joyous Kate Stanton. 
 
 This informed me, that she was taking a tour through
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 131 
 
 some of the British provinces and eastern Maine, where 
 she designed to spend a few weeks with an old maiden 
 aunt of her mother's ; after which, on her way to the 
 Spindle City, she designed to visit me in my home at 
 
 R , when she would give me a verbal account of her 
 
 travels herself, and all the wild freaks in which she had 
 participated through her eastern tour.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 KATE STANTON'S VISIT. HER TOUR THROUGH MAINE. DESCRIP- 
 TION OF HEATHERTON HALL AND WILLOW DALE. 
 
 IT W A S a cold, stormy autumn evening, that on 
 which Kate Stauton arrived at my dwelling, and, 
 after the first glad greetings were over, the tea things 
 removed, and the fire replenished, so that it imparted a 
 genial light and heat to our cosy little sitting-room, 
 Kate leaned leisurely back in the comfortable arm-chair, 
 and commenced a rambling sketch of her journey to the 
 East. 
 
 " You know, Rosa," she commenced, " that I was 
 always fond of adventure, and also a great lover of the 
 wild and romantic, the grand and sublime of nature. 
 
 " Well, for several weeks I had been travelling and 
 feasting with delight upon the wild scenes which pre- 
 sented themselves to my view, through the wildest 
 portions of eastern Maine, as also across the boundary 
 to the dominions of the British queen. 
 
 " I had made the tour of many of its romantic rivers, 
 up to the wild clearings of Moosehead Lake I had
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 133 
 
 looked far away over its glassy surface to the dark pine- 
 clad highlands, where neither the axe or footsteps had 
 ever reverberated. 
 
 " I had climbed over the charred logs and smoking 
 turf to look within a logger's cabin or a new settler's 
 hut. 
 
 " I had threaded wild forest-paths to get a peep 
 within an Indian's wigwam and listen to the strains of the 
 dark-eyed forest flower, while she wove her baskets of 
 fanciful colorings beside her Indian lover. 
 
 " I had sat me dreamily down beneath the forest 
 pines, where the Red men had lighted their council fires, 
 and danced to the wild war-song of their fearless chief- 
 tains. 
 
 " I had rested me beside the glassy lake, where the 
 plumed warrior had twined the rich wampum, amidst the 
 dark braids of his forest princess, while she chanted to 
 him the tales and legends of her noble sires. 
 
 " Spell-bound, I had watched the soft moonbeams 
 flittering coquettishly over the rippling wave, broken here 
 and there by the lazy motion of a passing skiff or a 
 boatman's oar, keeping time to the mellow strains of 
 1 row, boatman, row.' 
 
 " I had climbed fearful steeps to the mountain's brow, 
 and looked far, far down into the deep abyss below. 
 
 " I had travelled over highlands and lowlands, through 
 
 the wild woods and clearings, where the deer bounded 
 12
 
 134 EPFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 * 
 
 lightly over the knarled and tangled wildwood, and the 
 howlings of the hungry wolf rang fearfully out from his 
 hidden recess. 
 
 " I had followed the various windings of the far-famed 
 Penobscot and romantic St. Croix, and cooled my brow 
 in the clear waters of the Passamaquoddy Bay. 
 
 " I have sailed around its pretty islands, its bold and 
 rugged bluffs, and paid a passing tribute to the venerable 
 ' frair,' who for centuries has stood like a faithful senti- 
 nel at his post, an object of interest to the artist and 
 tourist. 
 
 " I had looked far away over the grand old ocean, 
 where the majestic steamship seemed a tiny, floating 
 feather upon the white-dashing foam of its hissing moun- 
 tain waves. 
 
 " I had roamed over the parks and pleasure-grounds 
 of English nobility, and knelt in thoughtful mood beside 
 the marble urns of their lamented dead. 
 
 " I had been a welcome guest within a fisher's hut, 
 and listened with delight to their tales of wild, and peril- 
 ous adventures. 
 
 " I had looked within the mouldering and rusty ruins 
 of ancient magnificence, and filled my palms with me- 
 mentos from demolished forts and long-deserted battle- 
 grounds. 
 
 " I had visited crowded jails and the prison cells, alms- 
 houses and asylums, houses of reform, and the resorts 
 of the fashionable elite.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 135 
 
 " I had visited juvenile schools and colleges for the 
 classical student. 
 
 " I had been a recipient of favors from the queen's 
 royal household, and disdainfully spurned by cod-fish 
 aristocracy. I had received many a heart-felt ' God 
 bless you,' and listened oft to the muttered curses of 
 envious hate. 
 
 " I had feasted upon wild forest scenes, unbroken for 
 many and many a mile, save only by some rude and wild 
 convulsion of nature, and listened spell-bound to the 
 sweet gushing melody which floated out from its hidden 
 recesses. 
 
 " And thus for many weeks I had passed from scene 
 to scene, almost intoxicated with the wild beauties and 
 sublimity alternately presented to my view, till, weary 
 and travel worn, I at last reluctantly turned my course 
 to the tune of ' homeward bound.' 
 
 " I had resolved to take the shore towns on my home- 
 ward tour, not only for variety of scene, but partially, as 
 I have told you, to visit an old maiden aunt of my 
 mother's, who, although possessing many broad acres and 
 the antiquated home of her father's sire, was one of the 
 kindest and most eccentric old dames in existence. 
 
 " I had heard this from my mother, and wishing to 
 explore the old castle-like mansion of my venerable 
 sires, whose magnificence and glory had long ago de- 
 parted, I booked my name at the principal stage-office
 
 136 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 of a provincial 'town for ' Heatherton Hall, Willow 
 Dale.' 
 
 " My heart bounded lightly, and my head too, dear 
 Rosa, as I seated myself in an old box-wagon which 
 served for a public stage-coach, set in motion by the lash 
 and lingo of an uncouth driver upon the backs of two 
 fiery Canadian grays. 
 
 " But it was a fine summer's morning. The air was 
 fresh and balmy ; the sun was rising gloriously from out 
 a forest of pines, which nodded fantastically here and 
 there, in the light morning breeze. 
 
 " Undisturbed by the few tired and sleepy occupants 
 of the old vehicle, I soon and willingly yielded to the in- 
 spiration which the wild and changing scenes produced. 
 
 " I scarcely heeded time or distance, so infatuated 
 was I with the wild and picturesque beauties which sur- 
 rounded me. 
 
 " And not until the long summer twilight had deep- 
 ened into a more sober hue, could I arouse myself from 
 the spell-like reveries hi which I had indulged through 
 that long summer's day. 
 
 " Nearly the whole of the afternoon we had travelled 
 through a wild unbroTcen forest, with no signs of life or 
 civilization save only now and then the ashes, or charred 
 logs, where the weary or benighted traveller had lighted 
 a fire for security, as he sought repose within those forest 
 shades, or waited impatiently for the morrow's dawn to 
 proceed in safety on his lonely journeyings.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 137 
 
 " This vast extent of woodland surpassed every thing 
 of a wild, picturesque, novel beauty, that my most glow- 
 ing imagination had ever conceived. 
 
 " Here it seemed that nature had played her wildest 
 freaks, carelessly throwing together and combining, in 
 rude masses, beauty and deformity, light and shade, life 
 and music, as also the death-like silence of hushed deso- 
 lation. 
 
 " Huge masses of rocks were piled one above the 
 other hundreds of feet, as though rudely thrown together 
 by some mighty convulsion of nature, and left in a 
 threatening position, as if to terrify or destroy all who 
 dared to venture within their fearful locality. 
 
 " On he other hand, the clear, smooth surface of an 
 inland lake, sparkling in the sunbeams, glimmered through 
 the overarching branches, as the light breeze lifted the 
 deep heavy foliage from their forest bowers. 
 
 " Then, all so suddenly, the dashing, foaming waters 
 of a mountain torrent came leaping and bounding along, 
 as if, in its rude sport, it would sweep us on and away 
 into the deep stream below. 
 
 " Oh ! it was wild, majestic, and grand ! that forest 
 scene. 
 
 " There the nimble deer sported fearlessly the live- 
 long day. The wolf and bear roamed at large, or rested 
 
 securely in their wild retreat." 
 .12*
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 KATE STANTON'S UNEXPECTED MEETING WITH EFFIE LEE. 
 THEY JOURNEY TOGETHER. 
 
 T 
 
 WILIGHT, as I said, was giving place to 
 the more sober hues of evening, ere we left the 
 forest road, and sought repose within a wayside inn, 
 erected upon the rude clearings of an eastern wilderness. 
 This was situated at the junction of stage-roads, and 
 other travellers were there before us. Among them was 
 a pale, sad-looking woman, soothingly endeavoring to 
 hush the weary meanings of a sickly child. 
 
 " With an impulse of sympathy I could not resist, my 
 heart went out to her, and, taking a seat by her side, 
 with a word of kindly greeting, she immediately turned 
 her tear-drenched face full upon me ; but her words of 
 sad response instantly gave place to the joyful acclama- 
 tions of recognition. ' Kate ! ' ' Effie ! ' Her head, for 
 it was indeed Effie, fell convulsively upon my throbbing 
 bosom, and she wept long and bitterly. 
 
 " I knew that those tears were a heart-balm ; and so 
 I gently took her child from her* trembling arms, and
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A CO.TTON MILL. 139 
 
 beguiled it with childish tales into a sweet and soothing 
 repose. 
 
 " I knew by the deep and settled expression of an- 
 guish upon Effie's brow, and the ready tears which came 
 alternately to the trembling lashes, that the deep foun- 
 tain of her heart had been rudely and painfully stirred. 
 And the deep sobs and sighs of anguish which sounded 
 in my ears at intervals, through the entire night, only 
 served to confirm the painful conviction. 
 
 " But not for once did I dream how desolate and lone 
 she had -become, nor how deep the flood, and scathing the 
 fire of affliction through which she had so recently passed. 
 
 " I was gratified to learn that her course lay in the 
 same direction of my own, and was pleased, on the fol- 
 lowing morning, although she looked paler and sadder, 
 to see her take the unoccupied seat by my. side in that 
 rude old coach. 
 
 " I tried, as best I could, to divert her mind from its 
 crushing sorrows, and bring back once more the smiles 
 and sunshine to her still handsome face. 
 
 " She spoke little of her past sorrows, only that, after 
 a long and painful absence, she was returning to Glen 
 cottage in B , the place of her nativity. 
 
 " ' B ? ' I inquired. ' Is not Willow Dale and 
 
 Heatherton Hall in that vicinity ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ! ' she answered. ' I know their locality 
 well. Many times, in my childish days, I visited the old
 
 140 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 hall, and played " hide and go seek " in its parks and 
 pleasure-grounds. ' 
 
 " ' Then,' I answered, ' this is a double pleasure ; and 
 how strange, indeed, that we have never spoken to each 
 other in our former acquaintance of Heatherton Hall, for 
 I am designing to visit it, and perhaps spend a few weeks 
 with my lone old aunt, if I find her not too eccentric to 
 claim relationship with such a wild specimen of humanity. 
 
 " ' My heart yearns to revel in those old halls, bereft 
 of their former magnificence. To pore over the musty 
 parchments penned by my venerable ancestors in the 
 days of " long ago." To dream away the long summer 
 days within the shades of its grand old park, and listen, 
 in the mellow moonlight, to the legends and love adven- 
 tures of that lone old aunt in the days of her beauty 
 and bloom. \ 
 
 " A faint smile passed over the pale, sad features of my 
 companion, while she answered : 
 
 " ' You will find your lone old aunt, as you are pleased 
 to designate her, any thing but an imbecile, love-stricken 
 dame, mourning over the disappointments of blighted or 
 faithless love in the days of her youth. 
 
 " ' She is one of nature's specimens of nobility ; for she 
 needs no airs or embellishments to perfect her genuine 
 worth. There are few so pure, so good, and spiritually 
 inclined, as to comprehend her; and therefore she is 
 called eccentric.'
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL 141 
 
 " I was pleased with the praise, which I knew was no 
 flattery, paid to my worthy relative ; and by every act 
 of kindness, both to Effie and her child, I strove to con- 
 vince her how much I appreciated it. 
 
 " Thus each day of our journey and companionship had 
 passed in pleasant and friendly intercourse, till at last, as 
 the shades of evening were closing around us on the third 
 day, we drew near to the place of our destination. 
 
 " My own heart, bounding with hopeful expectancy, hers 
 growing sadder from the dark forebodings and fearful 
 apprehensions which closed around her, like the impene- 
 trable misty fog from the adjacent bay. 
 
 "I had indulged in a pleasant reverie, but aroused 
 myself as we merged from the forest-road into the broad, 
 open space of cultivated mainland. 
 
 " Lights were glimmering through the misty fog in the 
 dim distance, and while my companion was wiping away 
 the blinding tears from her eyes, attracted by my glad- 
 some exclamations, the driver reined in the panting 
 horses with a prolonged ' w-h-o-a,' in front of a mas- 
 sive gate and a venerable looking mansion, which appeared 
 to me like some long-preserved relic of antiquity, so 
 singular was it in appearance and construction. 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ! ' said Effie, grasping my hand frantically, 
 'here we are, at dear Heath Hall, and Glen Cottage 
 is only a few miles beyond. It is with heart-felt regret 
 that I must leave you, Kate. But may I indulge in the
 
 142 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 hope that we shall meet again while you remain at the 
 hall?' 
 
 " ' Indeed you may, Effie dear,' I answered, en- 
 couragingly ; ' and many, many times I hope we shall 
 meet again, when these dark clouds of sorrow have all 
 disappeared, and the sunlight of happiness and prosperity 
 rests smilingly upon your life-path.' 
 
 " Her burning lips trembled for a moment upon my 
 hand, while they murmured a low ' God bless you, 
 Kate,' and a sad ' good-night.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 KATE 8 ARRIVAL AT THE OLD HALL. THE COACHMAN THINKS 
 
 SHE IS FROM THE SOUTHWARD, AND MISTAKES HER BAGGAGE 
 
 FOR LOG CABINS. AUNT HEATHERTON's CORDIAL GREETING. 
 
 KATE'S FEARS AND PLEASANT SURPRISE. HER MOTHER'S 
 BRIDAL CHAMBER. THE FAMILY PORTRAITS. 
 
 <rpHIS IS Heath Hall, marm,' said the driver, 
 J- throwing open the stage door with a most ob- 
 sequious air and profound bow, at the same time offering 
 his hand to assist me in alighting. 
 
 " He conducted me through the ponderous gate up a 
 broad avenue, thickly shaded on either side by the droop- 
 ing and swaying branches of the graceful willow, to the 
 low porch, where the sweetbrier and roses mingled with 
 the climbing woodbine. 
 
 " ' And this,' I whispered, half audibly, ' is Heath- 
 erton Hall ; ' for I scarcely knew whether, in one of my 
 wild, dreamy reveries, I was wandering in fairy-land, or 
 whether indeed I had arrived at Willow Dale. 
 
 " ' Yes, marm,' answered the driver, at the same time 
 giving the ponderous knocker a clang which might have 
 aroused the inhabitants of " Sleepy Hollow," ' and it
 
 144 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 is the best farm in all the eastern country. Why, a man 
 and a boy could make a for tin here in less than no time. 
 Dick Joslin, the chore-boy, says that the old lady lays up 
 heaps of money every year, and not a child nor a chick 
 to fight for it, before she is fairly under the sod. 
 
 " ' But one thing I know, that nobody ever goes away 
 from Heath Hall hungry and cold ; and you will know it 
 too, marm, if you make much of a tarry at Willow Dale. 
 
 " ' Here, Dick,' he continued, as a little dumpy form 
 came blustering through the long hall, or outer entrance, 
 holding cautiously before him a lighted lantern. 
 
 " ' Here, Dick, is a woman come to stop with you a 
 spell, I reckon. And I should think that she was from 
 the southard, by the little log cabins she takes her lug- 
 gage in. The deuce take me, if I ever carried the like 
 before. 
 
 . " ' Come, Dick, lend us a good stout hand, and we will 
 soon have it stored away in this old castle ; and the woman 
 too, I reckon, for she has journeyed a heap of a ways, and 
 will be right glad to find such a resting-place as Heath 
 Hall and Willow Dale.' 
 
 " I thanked the driver for his kind solicitations, and 
 placing within his hand an extra quarter as a com- 
 pensation for the transportation of my log cabins, which, 
 he declared, * was quite unnecessary, as I was entirely 
 welcome.' I informed him that, although I had travelled 
 in the southern States, I was neither a native or resident 
 of the South.
 
 SEVEN TEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 145 
 
 " ' Oh ! I beg jour pardon, marm, if I have offended 
 you ; I meant no insult, only the log cabins, marm, 
 looked a leetle suspicious.' 
 
 " ' This way, Miss,' said Dick, throwing open an inner 
 door, which led to a well-lighted and comfortable-looking 
 apartment. 
 
 " ' This way a moment, if you please, Miss, while I assist 
 the coachman in removing your baggage, and then I will 
 conduct you to the mistress of the mansion and more 
 commodious entertainment.' 
 
 " I entered the room designated, which, on closer ob- 
 servation, proved not a private apartment, but a large 
 hall, opening from the front, or main entrance of the 
 spacious building. 
 
 " It was hung with pictures of old and rare beauty, and 
 ancient-looking portraits which I knew must be the rep- 
 resentations of my own relatives, whose blood was even 
 then dancing lightly with the wild throbbings of my heart 
 and brain. 
 
 " There was the painted armor of their own brave war- 
 riors ; the coat of arms and heraldry, denoting their 
 nobility and high station in the land of their ancestors. 
 
 " The lion was still erect in his proud strength and 
 glory. The arm and battle-axe raised dauntlessly and 
 defiantly high, as if to crush, with one fell swoop, all who 
 dared to oppose their just and honorable rights 
 
 " The eagle soared far up toward tha- mid-day sun, 
 
 13
 
 146 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 gracefully poising the green laurel and the quivering 
 arrows, with neck proudly curved, looking down from his 
 lofty eyry. 
 
 " Pride was beginning to blow its empty bubbles amidst 
 the wild throbbings of my heart ; and my brain, oh, 
 that seemed inflated almost to bursting with the light, 
 gassy vanity which had pressed in through its unguarded 
 port-holes, as I looked, half bewildered, upon the honor- 
 able heraldry of my noble ancestors. And I ejaculated, 
 half unconsciously, ' I am a regular and legitimate de- 
 scendant from that ancient house.' 
 
 " Fears came next, with torturing suspense. ' For 
 how,' I thought, ' shall I be able to meet the majestic 
 woman who presides here, a living representative of their 
 former magnificence ? ' 
 
 " Light footsteps and the soft rustling of summer gar- 
 ments aroused me. 
 
 " I turned quickly, half in awe, half in surprise, which 
 soon gave place to admiration and pleasure. 
 
 "For instead of a proud, majestic woman, whom no one 
 would dare to approach, was a little, plain, unassuming 
 figure, with one of the sweetest faces and the mildest blue 
 eyes which I have ever had the pleasure of beholding. 
 
 " Her hair was combed neatly back from a broad, in- 
 tellectual brow, half shaded by a trim little cap of the 
 most delicate texture, while a kerchief of the same ma- 
 terial, white ast the spotless snow-flake, was laid in careful
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 147 
 
 folds over a well-formed bust, giving a pleasing contrast 
 to the dress of brown silk which fell gracefully around 
 her neat and petite form. 
 
 " She approached me with her small white hand cor- 
 dially extended, and a smile of welcome, which radiated 
 every feature, saying, as she did so, ' I was not aware 
 of the arrival of visitors, or they should not have been 
 so unceremoniously received at Heatherton Hall. I 
 hope, my dear,' she continued, taking my hand affec- 
 tionately within her own, ' that you will allow me to 
 make amends for any seeming neglect of duty on the 
 part of my attendants.' 
 
 " ' No neglect is attributed to them, my dear madam,' 
 I answered, ' for having, by stage, just a moment since 
 arrived at the hall, your servant led me to this apart- 
 ment, while he assisted the coachman, who is impatient 
 of delay, in removing my baggage. 
 
 " ' And I can assure you I have been very agreeably 
 and pleasantly entertained,' I continued, casting my 
 eyes significantly upon the portraits which gave a life- 
 like appearance to that spacious apartment. 
 
 " ' And you,' she said, scanning my features with an 
 expression of deep and earnest interest, ' you are a 
 Heatherton. I ought to have known as much from the 
 first glance.' 
 
 " ' My mother was a Heatherton ; and although I feel
 
 148 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 the blood of my proud ancestors dancing through my 
 veins, yet I claim not the honor of their ancient name.' 
 
 " ' And yet you are a Heatherton,' she replied, lead- 
 ing me close to a portrait which before I had but dimly 
 observed. 
 
 " ' Look upon that,' she continued, ' and then tell me 
 you are not a Heatherton. 
 
 " ' You do not know him, for he died before your birth, 
 and before your mother, with her young family, moved 
 far away from Willow Dale. 
 
 " ' She has never returned to us since. But you are 
 her second self, and the exact counterpart in features 
 and expression of the life-like portrait before you. He 
 was my brother and your mother's father.' 
 
 " I stood transfixed and spell-bound to the spot ; for a 
 feeling of awe came over me, as I looked for the first 
 time upon the likeness of one whom my mother had 
 loved and revered so much, my grandfather, who long 
 ago had passed triumphantly to the spirit-world. 
 
 "'Yes,' she continued, half musingly, 'he was the 
 father of our dear little Kate, our household pet, as we 
 used to call her. Oh ! how gleefully her bird-like voice 
 rang through these spacious apartments ! How sylph- 
 like seemed her form, chasing the shadows and the sun- 
 shine beneath the ancient elms. How radiant her face 
 with beauty, innocence, and love !
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 149 
 
 " ' But her father died, or rather passed to a higher 
 and purer life ; and she, oh, she left us too ; and since 
 then a hushed desolation has pervaded both hall and 
 bower. 
 
 " ' Come with me to her bridal chamber, her dressing- 
 room, her laboratory, her music-room, and to-morrow 
 I will lead you beneath the shadow of the trees Tier own 
 hands planted. I will show you her favorite walks, by 
 the Hawthorn Hedge, and up the steep cliffs, her mossy 
 nooks, her sunny dells, and and 
 
 " Here the voices of Dick and the coachman, shuffling 
 through the outer hall with the suspicious log cabins, 
 broke in upon her enthusiasm, and, winding an arm 
 affectionately around my waist, she continued, ' or 
 rather, let me lead you to a place of refreshment and 
 repose. 
 
 " ' I had forgotten, in the surprise and pleasure of 
 meeting one of my own kindred, that you were a weary 
 traveller, and would be more agreeably entertained with 
 a good supper and an easy-chair than you would by 
 climbing steep cliffs, or threading hawthorn hedges and 
 mossy dells. 
 
 " ' You will remain long with us, I hope, and will have 
 ample time to make yourself familiar with all the scenes 
 your mother, in her happy girlhood, loved so well.' ' 
 
 13*
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 KATE IN THE ANCESTRAL CHAIR. HER VISION. IS TAKEN FOR 
 A RAPPING MEDIUM. HER AUNT'S HORROR OF SPIRITUAL- 
 ISTS. KATE'S FUN-LOVING SPIRIT AROUSED. 
 
 HE LED me into a large, airy reception-room, 
 furnished in a style of antique beauty, and, after 
 removing my travelling apparel, seated me in a spacious 
 arm-chair, not of modern structure, but which, I im- 
 agined, might have taken passage in the memorable 
 ' May Flower,' or, further back, might have graced 
 the drawing-room of some ducal palace in merry Eng- 
 land or bonny Scotia. 
 
 " Be that as it may, I remained half buried in the soft 
 crimson cushion, while my good aunt excused herself to 
 order tea and refreshments, with my thoughts flitting 
 far, far back through the shadowy vistas of olden times, 
 when my grandfather's sire, with the firm, proud step 
 of early manhood, strode through those halls, with a 
 sweet, beautiful bride leaning trustingly upon his manly 
 arm, listening, half entranced with the bright. halo of 
 love which encircled her, to the endearing words which 
 fell like costly pearls from his truthful lips.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 151 
 
 " And then scene after scene presented itself to my 
 view as the years sped on, and the proud man's step 
 became enfeebled by age, and the fair young bride, 
 changed to a dignified matron, are quietly passing 
 adown life's shady side ; while others, in the full noon- 
 day of youth, are twining their brows with the laurels 
 and honors laid aside by their predecessors. 
 
 " And then again the bright scene changes ; and youth 
 and beauty pass away into the twilight of years. 
 
 " The song and gleeful laugh of happy childhood awake 
 no longer an answering echo through the long corridors 
 and high-arched walls of that ancient home. 
 
 " The laurels are laid aside, or gathered up as sacred 
 mementos of other days. A pall-like darkness gathers 
 around the scene a hushed desolation, and 
 
 " ' Oh, how weary you are,' said the soft voice of my 
 aunt, bending over me with a look of the deepest anxi- 
 ety depicted upon her mild face. 
 
 " ' You have been dreaming too, and it was with quite 
 an effort that I awoke you sufficiently to tell you that 
 my tea is ready, which announcement, I think, you will 
 not regret to hear.' 
 
 " ' Dreaming ? Why, my dear aunt, I have not been 
 asleep since you left me to rest in this luxuriant arm- 
 chair ; only indulging in one of the trance-like reveries 
 which steal over me now and then, like spirit-inspiration.' 
 
 " ' Why, child,' said my aunt, while her mild blue
 
 152 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 eyes opened wide upon me, with an expression of doubt- 
 ful perplexity spreading all over her still handsome face, 
 * you are not one of those awful spiritualists, are you, 
 who set the tables to talking, and the chairs to dancing 
 Yankee reels all over a respectable body's house ; setting 
 our arms akimbo, and making us commit all manner of 
 improprieties ; exposing even our very thoughts to the 
 wide glare of an uncharitable world ? I have heard of 
 them, but I never thought that I should be tor tormen 
 
 , I never thought one would find its way into Heath 
 
 Hall. 
 
 " ' They say if they once get into a house, that it is 
 hard to get them out again ; because ' 
 
 " Here my mirthfulness could endure no more, and it 
 broke out into a loud, ringing, prolonged laugh, which 
 woke once again the slumbering echoes of old Heath 
 Hall. 
 
 " ' you rogue ! ' she said, twining her arms affec- 
 tionately around my waist. ' I know now that you are 
 not one of them, or you could not laugh like that. And 
 so much like hers, like Kate's. 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ; your laugh, your face, yourself, will 
 bring her back again as erst to me, and we shall live 
 over the happy scenes of other days.' 
 
 " ' But my dear aunt,' I replied, while another laugh 
 of mirthfulness convulsed my whole frame, and reverber- 
 ated once again through those spacious apartments, ' I 
 am indeed a believer in spirits.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 153 
 
 " ' I believe in spirit-inspiration, in guardian spirits, in 
 ministering spirits, in holy spirits, in evil spirits, and in 
 intoxicating spirits ; but it does not follow that because I 
 believe there are such things, that I am an advocate for 
 them all, or have brought them as unwelcome guests to 
 Heatherton Hall, to tor torrn 
 
 " A small hand was pressed lovingly to my lips ; and 
 a laugh, such perhaps as had not agitated her bosom for 
 years, broke through the parted lips of my demure little 
 aunt. 
 
 " ' Oh, you are a little witch ! and have brought a 
 happy spirit and the spirit of mirthfulness to your lone 
 aunt and her desolate home ; and long may it be before 
 an evil spirit tempts me to eject them from old Heath 
 Hall. 
 
 " ' It was a good spirit that sent you here, I know,' 
 she continued, as we seated ourselves at her daintily 
 spread table. 
 
 " ' And so I think we shall not quarrel about spirits, 
 nor be troubled _with table-talking, or chair-dancing, 
 only when your spirit of mirthfulness and mischief pre- 
 dominates.' 
 
 " ' Which perhaps you will find too often for the staid 
 customs and habits of Willow Dale,' I replied, casting 
 a sidelong glance over the knob of the silver tea-urn, 
 from which she was pouring the delicious beverage. 
 
 " ' Not at all,' she answered. ' Be yourself, mischief,
 
 154 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 mirthfulness, and all; and though it may sometimes 
 break in upon the staid old habits and I can assure 
 you they are nothing but habits, habits acquired by 
 loneliness and desolation ; yet they will be to us like the 
 breaking of sunshine through the dark storm-cloud ; or a 
 refreshing shower-bath upon the parched and withered 
 flowers of summer's noontide.' 
 
 " ' I thank you, my good aunt, for the wide and 
 pleasant scope you are pleased to allow me ; for my wild, 
 turbulent spirit never could endure the curb-string. 
 
 " ' And, furthermore, I am a firm believer in the spirit 
 of mirthfulness, and so far secede from the old faith as 
 to believe that mirthfulness maketh the heart better, 
 instead of sadness.' 
 
 " Again she opened her eyes wide upon me, while, 
 with an expression of perplexity, she answered : 
 
 " ' Oh, we must believe the Bible, child, every word of 
 it ; and that says that sadness maketh the heart better, 
 and that it is better to go to the house of mourning than 
 to the house of feasting or mirth. 
 
 " ' But, nevertheless, I believe that mirthfulness is, to 
 the heart, like the bright sunshine drifting in playful 
 ripples over the dark ocean. And sadness, like the 
 pearls that lay untarnished and pure among the rough 
 sands' and seaweed at its base.' 
 
 " ' No ; rather say that sadness is like the dark, 
 tangled seaweed, inclosing in its dank, slimy meshes, 
 the pearls and gems that the ocean tide would otherwise
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 
 
 bring out in bright glittering masses to the wooing sun- 
 beams. 
 
 " ' Sadness throws a pall-like gloom over every thing. 
 Even the bright sunshine and summer flowers seem 
 shrouded in its misty twilight. 
 
 " ' Nature's sweet songs, from woodland and dell, grate 
 harshly upon the senses, like mournful dirges from the 
 tombs of the dead. 
 
 " ' The soft summer zephyrs which float around me, 
 like the low whisperings of spirit- voices, bring ominous 
 forebodings to the saddened heart. 
 
 " ' No, aunt ; God never designed us to shroud our- 
 selves in sackcloth and ashes ; to sit down irresistingly 
 beneath the black pall of sadness, religiously believing it 
 was making our hearts better, our lives purer, and the 
 future more perfect, in blissful and holy immortality. 
 That God, who clothes himself with such a halo of bright 
 glory that our mortal vision cannot look upon it, and to 
 which the sun's rays become like a dark floating cloud.' 
 
 " ' aimt,' I continued, ' Why did He give us 
 this beautiful world ? These flowers, these tree&, these 
 woodland songsters ? The bright luminaries which 
 know their places, and move in a gorgeous galaxy of 
 splendor through the broad and high-arched canopy 
 above us ? And why did He give us souls and aspira- 
 tions above the beasts of the field, if He designed 
 us to be made better by lives of sadness and gloom. 
 
 " ' I do not believe that a sad heart ever found its
 
 156 EFFIE AND I| OR, 
 
 way through the golden gates of the New Jerusalem, or 
 tuned its lyre before the sapphire throne, in praise to 
 the great Immaculate who sits thereon, clothed in the 
 brightness of beatific holiness.' 
 
 " ' Well, there,' said my aunt, interrupting me, 
 ' you are a combination of mystery. One moment a 
 gay, volatile -creature ; the next soaring far away into 
 the sublimity of the spirit-world. 
 
 " ' Yes, I like that volatility and good sense combined. 
 So, be assured, we shall be the very best friends imagi- 
 nable while you remain at Willow Dale. 
 
 " ' And now, my dear, tell me all about your mother, 
 your home, and every thing of interest connected with 
 it. For it is many a year ago that she left this old hall 
 to the loneliness and desolation which you now find it.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! it is just the place of all the world, aunt,' I 
 said, ' where I could dream away a life-time in bright, 
 fanciful reveries, weaving the most beautiful fabrics of 
 romance from the woof of real life ; combining light and 
 shade, beauty and ugliness, virtue and vice, wealth and 
 want, honor and degradation, life and death, the music 
 of mirth, and the wailing of despair. 
 
 " * Oh, how many bright reveries would flit around me, 
 till Heatherton Hall would become an enchanted castle, 
 and Willow Dale the resort of fairy revellers. 
 
 " ' Dear aunt, I fear that you will have to awake me 
 from many a day-dream while I remain at Willow Dale 
 your happy guest.'
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 157 
 
 " ' That I will do with pleasure,' said my aunt, laugh- 
 ingly, ' only be careful and keep away from the 
 trance-influence. Because, you know, that I have a 
 great horror of these spirit-revellers playing their wild 
 freaks in my staid old home.' 
 
 " ' I will take good care that they commit no serious 
 depredations upon any thing connected with Heath Hall. 
 
 " ' And now, my good aunt,' I continued, as I arose 
 from the table, and once more seated myself in the luxu- 
 rious arm-chair, ' I will spend the remainder of the 
 evening in narrations of my mother and my home, .as far 
 back as the gladsome days of my own early childhood. 
 Previous to that I have no distinct recollection.' 
 
 " ' Never mind the previous,' said my aunt, laugh- 
 ingly, ' that relation belongs to myself; and to-morrow, 
 as I show you the objects of interest connected with 
 Heatherton Hall and Willow Dale, I will give you a re- 
 cital of all which occurred previous to your mother's 
 departure from our dear old home.' ' 
 
 14
 
 CHAPTER XXIV . 
 
 KATE'S WILD FREAKS. HER AUNT'S HISTORY OF THE LEES. 
 HER PREDICTION VERIFIED. PLANNING A VISIT TO EFFIE. 
 
 K T HAD spent nearly a whole week at the hall in a 
 J- wild, restless, dreamy state, scarcely giving a mo- 
 ment's thought to aught else than the objects of interest 
 which everywhere presented themselves in that ancient 
 home. 
 
 " I had plunged into every nook and corner ; over- 
 turning, in my reckless love of adventure, the contents of 
 old closets, explored dark attics, and poured over musty 
 old volumes, manuscripts, and parchments ; sketched 
 upon canvas the outlines of the old mansion, and its 
 surroundings ; frightened away the owls and bats from 
 the decaying turrets ; threaded all the sheep-tracks and 
 avenues in Willow Dale ; tired out the favorite donkey, . 
 in my wild flights over the adjacent hills and forest roads ; 
 swamped Dick's best canoe in a fruitless duck-chase 
 over the little lake ; sent all the poultry, screeching and 
 cackling, from the barn-yard ; laughed myself into con-- 
 vulsions every time I made an attempt with a milking
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 159 
 
 stool, to see the cows run bellowing and kicking, with 
 tails poised high in the air, upsetting, in their wild fright, 
 milk-maids and milk-pails, in an attempt to scale the five- 
 rail fence, breaking the chain of the recreant wether, and 
 sending him, in a choking condition, over a tottering stone- 
 wall ; treating the pigs now and then with a delicious 
 morsel from my aunt's best cream-can, or letting them 
 out into the rich pea-patch, just for a little exercise and 
 airing ; and then, as demure as an Irish servant-girl with 
 her swate-heart behind the door, I would seek the mis- 
 thress herself, with ample acknowledgments for the 
 mischief I had done, and a thousand lip-promises to keep 
 the future peace, if only then she would grant me the 
 pardoning kiss. 
 
 " Half weary with my wild freaks, I sat me down upon 
 a low stool beside my aunt, and rested my head upon her 
 lap, striving to conjecture some exciting scheme for the 
 morrow, when the thought of Effie, and the promise I 
 made to visit her, occurred to me. 
 
 " ' I have it now, aunty,' I said. ' A pleasant ex- 
 cursion for to-morrow in view. I declare I have been 
 so fascinated with the beauties and exciting scenes of 
 Willow Dale and this antique home, that I really for- 
 got to tell you who was my travelling companion in the 
 last three days of my journey to Heatherton Hall. 
 
 '"Do you know such a place as Glen Cottage, aunty ? ' 
 
 " ' Aye, indeed I do ; and many a time I have wept
 
 160 EFFIE AND I ; OK, 
 
 there with the bereaved ones, when death has entered 
 and borne away one after another from that happy band. 
 And many's the time too, that he has entered there an 
 unwelcome guest.' 
 
 " ' Yes, aunty ; and yet one remains, sad, broken- 
 hearted, and alone. And she it was who bore me com- 
 pany the last three days of my journey here ; a blighted, 
 broken-hearted, desolate thing. 
 
 " ' Oh ! why did death spare her, when she has prayed 
 so oft and so earnestly for the boon which it alone can 
 give.' 
 
 " ' God, my child, controls the destinies of men. His 
 ways are not as our ways, and are often dark and mys- 
 terious to us ; and we, creatures of the dust, comprehend 
 Him not. 
 
 " ' If He has spared one member of the band which 
 nestled so lovingly together beneath that humble roof, it 
 has, doubtless, been for some good purpose which we 
 knew not of. 
 
 " ' But tell me ; has Effie Lee returned once more to her 
 childhood's home, and so desolate and broken-hearted ? 
 
 " ' But I predicted it when I heard of her marrying 
 that handsome stranger in the Spindle City. 
 
 " ' Oh ! she was so unsuspecting, so confiding, so pure 
 and good, that she saw no guile lurking beneath his 
 handsome features. And so, now, he has deserted her. 
 Poor Effie !
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 161 
 
 "'0 aunty,' I said, pleadingly, 'do tell me all 
 about the Lees and Glen Cottage ; for they sound so 
 pretty, that I really do desire a sketch for her friend, 
 Rosa Lynd, to grace a novel.' 
 
 " ' I fear, my child, that my story of Glen Cottage 
 and the Lees will savor too much of sadness for your 
 volatile spirit. For you know how much you dislike 
 dark life-pictures.' 
 
 " ' Just this once,' I pleaded, ' and I will be sure to 
 find some sunbeams amongst the dark storm-clouds.' 
 
 " ' Well, then,' she answered, ' it is useless to say no to 
 you. But where shall I begin ? Far, far aback in olden 
 time ? Or ah, yes! I will tell you how the Lees first 
 came to Glen Cottage. 
 
 " ' I know that your sympathies will be aroused many 
 times in my recital ; but remember, that you must keep 
 in subjection all these emotions until the conclusion, for 
 you know that I am not fond of interruptions in the shape 
 of interrogations, exclamations, or ejaculations, in the 
 midst of an interesting yarn.' 
 
 " I laid my head gently and quietly upon her lap, in 
 token of. my acquiescence, elated with the prospect of a 
 rich entertainment for the evening, and pleasant ex- 
 cursion for the morrow. 
 
 " ' Well do I remember the time,' commenced my 
 aunt, ' when the Lees first took possession of Glen Cot- 
 tage. It was mid- winter ; and such a storm of snow and 
 
 14
 
 162 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 wind as scarcely ever sweeps over the rocky coast of 
 this eastern State. 
 
 " ' Mr. Lee was a native of B ; but his wee bonnie 
 
 wife had come many a mile from her childhood's home. 
 
 " ' She was only seventeen when Mr. Lee, on a tour 
 through her native town, met, wooed, and won the love 
 of the gentle, beautiful, and accomplished Effie Landon. 
 
 " ' Every wish of her young life had been gratified. 
 She had known no care ; felt no lack of idolatrous love 
 from her doating parents ; knew no deprivation in aught 
 that could make her life one of perpetual sunshine and 
 flowers. And when, on her eighteenth birth-day, she 
 laid her hand within that of the handsome and gentle- 
 manly George Lee, and all so trustingly gave her life- 
 happiness to his keeping, no apprehensions, no misgiv- 
 ings or presentiments of ill laid like dark shadows over 
 the sunny future which her glowing imagery portrayed. 
 
 " ' She had known no sorrow, why should she fear any ? 
 She was the youngest, the household pet. And now, oh 
 now, what would she more than be the heart's chosen of 
 that idol one. 
 
 " ' He bore her away to a distant town, where he had 
 already established himself in a very respectable me- 
 chanical business. And, being a superior workman, was 
 soon on the high road to wealth and an elevated position 
 in the world. 
 
 " ' His little wife was very happy, for she felt no lack
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 163 
 
 of the ardent love pledged to her in her happy girlhood. 
 And oft, though one after another came in helpless in- 
 fancy to claim a mother's love, yet she retained her 
 beauty and elasticity, only grown a little more matronly 
 and dignified, from the position which she held in her 
 love-lit home.' 
 
 " And then my aunt continued her relation of their mis- 
 fortunes and bereavements until the time of Effie's 
 departure, to join her brother in the distant town of 
 
 A ; all of which I knew that Effie had told you when 
 
 we were room-mates at No. 10, in the busy Spindle City. 
 
 " ' And so she has returned to us again, poor thing, 
 continued my aunt, as she concluded her recital, ' and 
 doubly desolate now.' 
 
 " ' Yes, we will go to her tc-morrow ; we will comfort 
 her, and offer to her the consolation which only a true 
 friend can bestow.' 
 
 " ' And I shall learn her history too, aunty,' I said, 
 ' in addition to the one you have been relating. But it is 
 all so sad. I had indeed hoped for a happier finale to 
 this little sketch ; but I have not much to hope for in 
 Effie's story.' 
 
 " ' Not much, I fear,' my aunt replied, ' in her past 
 history. But Effie's sunbeams may yet be behind the 
 dark storm-clouds ; and even now, perhaps, some gentle 
 zephyr is looping back the heavy folds, that its undimmed 
 radiance may light up the dark chambers of her desolate
 
 164 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 
 
 heart. Effie has seen little save the shady side of life ; 
 but the resplendent noonday may be before her and its 
 gorgeous decline.' 
 
 " ' Yes, dear aunt,' I replied, ' but that is only in 
 perspective uncertainty. I would to God it might be 
 otherwise ; but I fear, that as the dawning, so will also be 
 life's desolate and drear decline.' 
 
 " ' Not so I,' said my aunt, hopefully. ' A prophetic 
 inspiration seems to whisper that her day-star of happi- 
 ness and prosperity is dawning for an unclouded, 
 resplendent morrow.' '
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 ON THE WAT TO GLEN COTTAGE. THE TOMB OF THE HEATHER- 
 
 TON'S. EFFIE FOUND SENSELESS UPON HER MOTHER'S GRAVE. 
 
 LITTLE CHARLEY JOYFULLY RECOGNIZES KATE. EFFIE RE- 
 STORED TO CONSCIOUSNESS. AUNT HEATHERTON THE GOOD 
 SAMARITAN. 
 
 "'T1TOULD YOU like to stop here a few 
 T T moments ? ' inquired my aunt, as we neared 
 the entrance to a public burial-ground, on our way to Glen 
 Cottage, the following morning. ' Perhaps you would like 
 to look at our family tomb, and also see the enclosure 
 where the Lees are at last peacefully reposing.' 
 
 " ' Oh yes, indeed I should,' I answered, 'for it will 
 add much, though sad it be, to the interest which their 
 history has already excited within my mind. And I am 
 anxious also to see the tomb where repose my honored 
 ancestors.' 
 
 " The morning air was fresh and balmy, the walk in- 
 vigorating through the broad avenues, on either side 
 where the rich flowers of summer were lifting their smil- 
 ing, dew-spangled petals to the morning sunbeams. 
 
 " We entered the enclosure of the dead ; and as we
 
 166 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 passed along through the shadowy aisles, we saw much, 
 both of modern improvement and decaying antiquity, to 
 excite our interest and admiration. 
 
 " And one little grave I noticed in particular, as we 
 passed up the gravelled walk, with a plain white stone, 
 upon which was inscribed upon the chiselled scroll, 
 ' Lilla.' 
 
 " I looked inquiringly at my aunt, who replied : ' That 
 Lilla had been the family pet of a very dear friend. But 
 death had claimed her, and there she lay, where the 
 sweetest flowers of summer bloomed over her little grave.' 
 
 " Upon it lay the withered boquets, which every morn- 
 ing had been placed there, by a mother's hand, fresh 
 and fragrant, upon the white marble slab. 
 
 " Contiguous to this was a family lot enclosed by a 
 neat white railing, shaded here and there by thick 
 clusters of the cypress and fir-tree, where, amidst the 
 low branches, the rose and sweet-brier mingled their fra- 
 grant bloom. 
 
 " And in the centre almost entirely surrounded by 
 mounds reared above the mouldering dead was a 
 plain white monument, with ' Lee ' simply inscribed 
 upon the front. 
 
 " ' This,' said my aunt, looking around the enclosure, 
 ' was John's last work, before his final leave-taking from 
 his native home. His mother's grave was the last one 
 which was added to the many which you here observe ;
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL 167 
 
 and there it is,' she continued, pointing to a mossy 
 mound, beneath the deep shade of clustering evergreens. 
 
 " At that instant, the half sad, half gladsome accents 
 of a childish voice, rang out from the cypress shade to 
 which my aunt had directed my attention. And, peer- 
 ing cautiously through the thick umbrage, lest I might 
 disturb the tributary devotions of some recently bereaved 
 mourner, a sight met my vision which almost paralyzed 
 my brain, and sent the warm life-blood sluggishly back 
 through the chilled fibres of my healthful frame. 
 
 " ' Can it be,' I exclaimed, springing impulsively 
 forward to the prostrate form beside that mother's grave, 
 ' can it be, Effie, that I meet you here and thus ? ' 
 
 " ' Effie ! Effie! did you say?' 'ejaculated my 
 aunt, with surprise, quickly approaching the spot, and 
 anxiously kneeling down beside the pale, rigid face 
 pillowed upon that mother's grave. 
 
 " ' This, surely, is not Effie Lee ! ' said my aunt, care- 
 fully scanning the sharp features of that pale, emaciated 
 face. ' No, no ; you are mistaken,' she continued, look- 
 ing half doubtingly, half inquiringly at me. 
 
 " ' She was my stage-coach companion,' I answered, 
 ' and the Effie Lee of my Spindle City acquaintance. 
 Poor Effie ! ' I whispered, bending tearfully over her, 
 ' would to God that I could avert the stern mandates of 
 thy cruel fate.' 
 
 " ' Mamma cry ; mamma sleep,' said little Charley,
 
 168 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 with childlike simplicity, laying his little dimpled hand 
 with shy confidence upon my tear-drenched cheek. 
 Then, nestling closer to his mother's side, he kissed the 
 blue, pulseless temples and rigid cheek, and coaxingly 
 whispered, ' Wake up, mamma, Charley be good, Charley 
 love oo ; lady here, mamma.' And he kissed again and 
 again the cold white lips, rigid as death to the warm 
 pressure of her idol boy. 
 
 " ' Better far,' said my aunt, ' were it the sleep that 
 knows no waking, save only that which wakes to spirit- 
 ual life in the New Jerusalem, where tears, and sorrow, 
 and anguish are known no more forever, and the wicked 
 cease from troubling. 
 
 " ' But this poor sufferer,' she continued, raising her 
 head gently from the turf, and chafing the cold temples 
 with her soft, warm palm. 
 
 " ' This poor sufferer has not yet thrown off her weary 
 earth-shackles. I feel the sluggish pulses struggling 
 back to life, or rather to a continuation of anguish and 
 desolation. 
 
 " ' But I cannot make her Effie, the handsome, hope- 
 ful Effie, who amidst smiles and tears, caresses and con- 
 gratulations, left us to join her brother in a distant town. 
 
 " ' But ah ! ' she continued, ' sorrow and desertion, 
 such as I fear has been Effie's fate, will soon steal away 
 the freshness of beauty and vigor from fair faces and 
 youthful forms/
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 169 
 
 " A deep, heavy sob struggled from up the heart- 
 depths, and, with a look of inexpressible anguish, as the 
 pale, thin lids were raised from their swollen sockets, 
 she feebly murmured : 
 
 " ' Would to God, my boy, that death would end our 
 sorrows here, within these hallowed shades, where the 
 loved ones of my childhood are silently mouldering.' 
 
 " The nerveless hand was laid lovingly upon the soft 
 baby-cheek, which nestled closer and closer to her throb- 
 bing bosom. 
 
 " ' Effie ! ' I whispered, pressing my lips to her cold, 
 pale brow. 
 
 " ' Mamma ! mamma ! ' chimed in the soft voice of 
 little Charley, almost frantic with joy at his mother's 
 restoration. 
 
 " ' Charley do love oo, oh, so much ! Charley be 
 good, mamma ! and lady come too, mamma. See ! see ! 
 good lady. She won't let mamma cry, will oo, lady,' 
 he said, twining his little snowy arms affectionately 
 around my neck with a hopeful, beseeching look in the 
 dark blue eyes, raised in artless simplicity to mine. 
 
 " ' No, no ! nor you either, my little cherub,' I an- 
 swered, while the hot tears gushed up uncontrollably 
 from my own agitated bosom. 
 
 " ' No, darling ; your mother shall not cry again, if 
 the good God will endow me with the power to suppress 
 her tears.' 
 
 15
 
 170 EFFIE AND I| OR, 
 
 " ' Come Effie, I said, cheerfully, while I assisted my 
 aunt in raising her from the damp turf, ' I have come to 
 see you to-day, and my good aunt is here too. 
 
 " ' She is one of the good Samaritans which happen 
 along sometimes, just in the right time, with the soothing 
 balm and healing ointment for the wayfarer's bleeding 
 wounds ; and I'll warrant me she has some soothing 
 restorative just suited to your own case, dear Effie. 
 
 " ' Oh don't ! don't weep so, you are not the only 
 sufferer in this treacherous world. Look up to the 
 bright sunshine, and around on the smiling flowers, and 
 the earth teeming with beauty and bloom ; and see how 
 the lazy breezes float by, laden with the rich nectarine 
 which they gather from shrub and flower. 
 
 " ' And then look beyond and away into the future 
 your future and see there the bright rainbow of hope, 
 spanning the dark clouds of sorrow, which have passed on 
 and away, leaving undimmed the sunshine and the flowers 
 which are yet to cheer and beautify your life-path. 
 
 " ' Oh ! I am something of a prophet, I know, and do 
 believe in impressions when they come thus forcibly upon 
 me.' 
 
 " ' Oh, my dear friend,' sobbed Effie, ' there is no fu- 
 ture for me, save only that of a lone, broken-hearted, 
 and homeless wanderer. All that have truly loved me 
 are there,' she said, pointing to the mounds beneath the 
 shadow of the evergreens.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 171 
 
 " ' And all that remains to me is this.' And she 
 pressed convulsively to her heaving bosom her darling 
 baby-boy, and kissed again and again, with frenzied 
 affection, his fair, uplifted brow. 
 
 " ' The home of my childhood, where I had hoped to 
 rest, at least for a season, and gather new strength to 
 struggle with the dark waves which dash above and 
 around me with relentless power, is closed unpityingly 
 against me. And the only shelter for me and my babe, 
 in the wide world, is the evergreens which chant their 
 mournful dirges above my parents' graves.' '
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 EFFIE DENIED REPOSE IN GLEN COTTAGE. AUNT HEATHERTON'S 
 
 BALM. THE NEW HOME. 
 
 " ' TT F F I E ! tell me truly,' said my aunt, bending 
 
 -L^ eagerly forward, with a flush of indignation over- 
 spreading her usually mild features, ' has Mary Ashton 
 turned coldly away from you in your sorrows, and closed 
 the doors of Glen Cottage to you and your helpless 
 babe ? ' 
 
 " ' It is even so, my dear Miss Heatherton, and I have 
 learned, oh, how bitterly ! that friendship seldom outlives 
 prosperity. And love is only a byword on the lips of 
 wealthy sycophants.' 
 
 " ' Such is too often the case, I will admit,' answered 
 my aunt, thoughtfully,, ' But there are a few exceptions, 
 Eflfie ; and I will prove to you the truthfulness of my 
 assertions. 
 
 " ' Come with me, Effie ; there is room enough yet in 
 my heart for you, and in the old hall too ; and many a 
 room there is, drear and desolate enough, for the want of 
 an occupant or two to break the monotony of its death- 
 like stillness.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 173 
 
 " ' Come Effie, baby and all ; and when the doors of 
 Heatherton Hall are closed against you, then may you 
 say that love is an illusion and friendship a crouching 
 menial to prosperity and wealth.' 
 
 " ' There ! ' I exclaimed, springing impulsively to my 
 feet, and in my wild, frantic joy half raising her nerveless, 
 trembling form from the low turf. 
 
 " ' There, Effie ! did I not tell you that the good Sa- 
 maritan had come with a soothing restorative just suited 
 to your need ? And I am sure, we shall all be so glad to 
 have you with us. And you will grow beautiful, bloom- 
 ing, healthful, and happy again, under my dear good 
 aunty's kind supervision. 
 
 " ' And we will ride and walk and sing together, and 
 talk away the long summer twilights, and play hide-and- 
 go-seek with Charley and the flitting moonbeams beneath 
 the willow boughs, and explore every chink and cranny 
 in the old hall, every nook and mouse-bed in the old 
 park, and frighten away, in our weird re veilings, all the 
 owls, bats, and croaking ravens from Willow Dale, and 
 send all the blue imps to the shadowy regions of oblivion. 
 
 " ' And little Charley shall dance and shout and romp 
 to his heart's content, and chase the pigs over the pea- 
 patch, and the hens into the frog-pond, the ducks through 
 the flower-beds, and the turkeys into the pantry, and, 
 oh ! such times as we will have at Willow Dale and the 
 old hall ; worth all the tears, and heart-aches, and false 
 
 15*
 
 174 EFFIB AND I; OR, 
 
 friends, and treacherous foes, and fawning sycophants in 
 Christendom. And ' 
 
 " ' And,' said the gentle voice of good Aunt Heather- 
 ton, ' the old horse is panting beneath the scorching rays 
 of the summer sun, patiently, waiting our return. 
 
 " ' The carriage is waiting, and ample enough to take 
 us all back to old Heatherton. So we will just assist 
 Effie to the most comfortable seat it contains, and I will 
 sit by her side, while you and Charley drive back to 
 Willow Dale. 
 
 " ' I am going to take you to the old hall now, Effie,' 
 said my aunt, after we were all comfortably seated in the 
 old-fashioned vehicle. 
 
 " ' And never again, while I live, and a shingle clatters 
 upon its venerable roof, shall you go out a homeless wan- 
 derer into the cruel, uncharitable world. 
 
 " ' Not a word of thanks, Effie ; and just, if you please, 
 brush away those tear-drops too, for you have wept 
 enough for one life-time already, I should judge, from 
 your faded eyes and the tear-channels adown your 
 sunken cheeks. No, Effie, not a word of thanks. I 
 am the obliged party. You don't know how selfish I 
 have grown in all these long years of your absence, and 
 my home has grown desolate too, and I have sighed for 
 just such companionship, just such sympathy, as yours ; 
 just such music as that little artless Charley can make
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 175 
 
 through the deep stillness, which all these years have 
 .been unbroken in the spacious rooms of Heatherton Hall. 
 
 " ' Oh ! I am so glad to have you with me, Effie, for 
 this little mad-cap niece of mine will soon flit away to her 
 own home-nest, and then, were it not for you and Charley, 
 we should sink back into our former dull, monotonous, 
 quiet way of living. Oh ! no thanks, Effie ; only do me 
 the favor to accept a home and protection in Heatherton 
 Hall, and we shall all be benefited and the happier for 
 your acquiescence to our propositions.' 
 
 " Effie answered not, for she was weeping tears of 
 gratitude upon the bosom of dear Aunt Heatherton. 
 
 " And little Charley was gleefully clapping his hands at 
 the nimble squirrels and timid hares, which the sound of 
 our carriage wheels had frightened away from their nut- 
 cracking felicity, to seek the protection of the thick um- 
 brage or moss-nooks which lay along the shady wood- 
 land."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 EFFIE IN HEATHERTON HALL. HER PROSTRATION AND RECOVERY. 
 
 GIVING A HISTORY OF HER LOVE AND DESERTION. 
 
 " T T W A S a glorious evening in early autumn ; for 
 
 A the broad harvest-moon was throwing a hallowed 
 radiance over the quiet scenes of Willow Dale, bathing in 
 a flood of golden beauty the adjacent hill-tops, tinging 
 here and there with a deeper, richer hue, the varied 
 autumn foliage of tree and shrub. 
 
 " Effie, pale and languid, entered the cozy little draw- 
 ing-room, and seated herself in the luxuriant arm-chair, 
 which my aunt had placed for her beside a window com- 
 manding a view of this gorgeous and varied beauty. 
 
 " It was the first evening, since her arrival at the hall, 
 that she had been able to join us in our social circle. 
 
 " Three weeks she had been prostrated by illness 
 contracted by the sufferings from exposure, as also the 
 nervous and mental excitements caused by her heartless 
 persecutors. 
 
 " And then when relief did come, in the soft, soothing 
 sympathy of real, unfeigned, and truthful friendship, the
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 177 
 
 reaction was so great, from the very depths of hopeless 
 despair to the warm sympathy of truthful affection and 
 ready relief which she found in my Aunt Heatherton's 
 home of plenty, that it produced a severe nervous ina- 
 bility, which prostrated her, for weeks, a helpless invalid, 
 after her arrival at the hall. 
 
 " But now she had nearly recovered, only still weak 
 and emaciated, from her previous sufferings. 
 
 " And as this Avas to be the last evening I designed to 
 spend at the hall, she had made an effort to join us in the 
 cosy little parlor ; and, by my auntfs kindly and urgent 
 request, who had informed her that I was anxious to 
 have her relate to me some of the incidents which had 
 occurred in her eventful life since her bridal leave- 
 taking from the Spindle City. 
 
 " ' I have but few bright pictures to present to you in 
 my narrations of real life,' she said, after we had all 
 gathered around her in a listening attitude. 
 
 " ' But sometimes a shadowy landscape or sunset 
 view is interesting to a distant observer. And as you 
 have never been affected by the sorrows and sufferings 
 through which I have passed, perhaps my narration may 
 not be without interest to you. 
 
 " ' You are acquainted with my history previous to 
 my bridal, and I have only to commence at the old par- 
 sonage away in the Spindle City, and close at Heath 
 Hall, with the golden harvest moon, laying like a broad
 
 178 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 sheet of molten lava upon the beautiful landscape 
 before us. 
 
 " ' When I left the old parsonage on my bridal morn, 
 I accompanied my husband to the home he had provided 
 for my reception, in a thriving little village near the 
 eastern boundary of my native State, on the provincial 
 line. 
 
 " ' It was an humble cottage to be sure, but then it 
 sufficed for our present need ; and my heart was bound- 
 ing with bright hopes and joyous anticipations of future 
 bliss and prosperity with my heart's chosen. 
 
 " ' And then my glowing imagination formed many 
 little improvements in my cottage home, and laid plans 
 for my nimble fingers and refined taste to make it so 
 fairy-like, so beautiful with woodbines, and roses, and 
 morning-glories, and daisies, and dew-drops, and fra- 
 grant shrubs, and graceful shade-trees ; with walks, 
 and fountains, and arbors ; with mossy slopes and sunny 
 daisy-patches. 
 
 " ' And within, how my nimble fingers should beautify 
 the walls with paintings and sketches and needle-work, 
 and fill the vases with the delicate wax-flowers of my 
 own creating. 
 
 " ' And then the lounges and easy-chairs and otto- 
 mans my busy fingers would manufacture for real home 
 comfort. Oh, I was never weary in devising some 
 additional comfort or decoration for our little domain.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 179 
 
 " ' And then, like an artless child, I would sit upon 
 my husband's knee, and twine my arms affectionately 
 around his neck, and while I bathed his cheek and 
 brow with warm kisses from my truthful lips, my heart 
 would throb, oh, so wildly, for one word of commendation 
 and praise for my little achievements in those household 
 comforts and decorations. 
 
 " ' But he never seemed to express, either by word or 
 look, any appreciation of my efforts to please. Only half 
 in earnest, half in jest, he would answer my beseeching 
 look, with "Ha! that's what I married you for, to 
 make my home comfortable, cook my dinners, repair my 
 wardrobe, and take care of the babies." 
 
 " ' Oh, how often my heart ached in those first years 
 of our wedded life with disappointment, and yearned for 
 sympathy, the sympathy of a heart congenial with my 
 own. 
 
 "'But I was away amongst strangers, in a strange 
 land, and my husband all the world, and dearer than 
 life to me. 
 
 " ' And oh, how ardently I hoped and prayed that he 
 would yet understand my sensitive and childlike nature, 
 and stoop a little from his lofty, matter-of-fact position, 
 to the simplicity of my own idolatrous and undivided 
 affection. 
 
 " 'The truthfulness of his love I had never doubted, 
 although much of his time was spent with his former
 
 180 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 associates, and many of them of doubtful reputation, 
 while I remained at home to cook his dinners, and, as he 
 termed it, " look after the babies." My home was the 
 dearest place to me in the wide world, and had it been 
 hallowed by my husband's love, as my own, it would 
 have been to us an Eden of bliss, and uninterrupted 
 felicity. 
 
 " ' One year I had been a wife when my little Charley 
 was born ; and with almost frantic joy I clasped him 
 to my bosom, and prayed, in the first outgushings of my 
 maternal bliss, that he might be the link to bind us more 
 firmly and lovingly together, and an irresistible attrac- 
 tion to our pleasant, though to him dull and quiet home. 
 
 " ' Charley was a frail, delicate blossom, fading day 
 by day, till at last he lay like a drooping lily, within the 
 pure white folds of his pillowed crib, ready to be borne 
 upon an angel's wings to the heavenly elysium. 
 
 " ' Long weeks of prostration followed, and my home, 
 oh, it seemed enveloped in the same pall-like gloom 
 which shrouded my despairing heart. 
 
 " ' My husband " saw no reason why I should sorrow" 
 and mourn for that which I could not help." 
 
 " ' But his matter-of-fact reasonings failed to soothe 
 the anguish and heart-yearnings of a mother's lacerated 
 bosom. 
 
 " ' Oh ! how my heart ached for my husband's sympa- 
 thy. And I wept and prayed upon his bosom for the
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 181 
 
 love and sympathy a faithful wife should claim and 
 expect from the husband for whom she had left all to 
 share his fate, whether in weal or woe. 
 
 " ' But even while I hung upon his neck, pleading in 
 the wild paroxysms of grief for his love and tenderness, 
 he would turn his cold gray eyes upon me, divested of 
 every expression of affection, and say, while he deliber- 
 ately unclasped from his neck the frantic grasp of my 
 pale, slender fingers : 
 
 " ' Did I not tell you long ago that I loved you ? 
 And did I not make you my wife ? What greater proof 
 can any reasonable woman expect or desire of a hus- 
 band's love ? ' 
 
 " ' And then, without designing to give me the kiss 
 for which my trembling lips were upturned, and for 
 which my tearful eyes pleaded so eloquently, he would 
 turn coldly away, leaving doubly desolate my heart and 
 home. 
 
 " ' Oh ! the weary days and nights I have spent in 
 the silence and solitude of my little cot, anxiously wait- 
 ing and listening for his well-known footfall upon our 
 humble threshold. 
 
 " ' And when at last he did come, I would hasten to 
 meet him with all the eagerness of an impatient child, 
 and shower upon him the kisses and caresses which my 
 own idolatrous love and impulsive nature could not resist, 
 and for which my heart turned, oh, so yearningly, for 
 
 16
 
 182 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 those life-giving, heart-cheering pledges of unchanging 
 devotion. 
 
 " ' But he always received my caresses with a cold, 
 dignified grace, and an expression which seemed to say, 
 " such is your duty as my wife and mistress of my 
 home. But pshaw ! I can't stoop to such trifling matters. 
 I am a man, and lord of the manor. You must take it 
 for granted that I love you, or you would not long hold 
 the position of wife within Wilton Harriman's domicile. 
 There is many a one ready to jump into your shoes 
 whenever you desire to lay them aside. So you see you 
 are a free nigger after all, and might, if you would, be a 
 very happy one." 
 
 " ' Such was the language addressed to me on his 
 return from his evening revels or days of absence, 
 till my heart grew sick, and hope fainter and fainter, 
 and scarcely a ray was left to cheer the lonely hours 
 which his absence and cruel desertion produced in our 
 humble home. 
 
 " ' For often when he came his step was unsteady, 
 and the fumes of the drunkard's bowl confirmed to me 
 the sad tales which others had hinted, that he had 
 been an occasional drinker from a mere lad, and often 
 had dipped a little too freely with his bacchanalian rev- 
 ellers, either for his own good or the happiness and well- 
 being of those who trusted, in his love or protection. 
 
 '"Weeks at a time he has left me weak and sick,
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A OOTTON MILL. 183 
 
 with my fragile boy, without assistance or even the lux- 
 ury of a well-prepared meal and comforts of a good fire. 
 Oh ! those days of sadness and privation ; how gloomily 
 the recollection of them gathers around me at this mo- 
 ment. And so real too.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 EFFIE'S FLIGHT FROM HER TREACHEROUS HUSBAND. is DENIED 
 
 ADMISSION TO THE HOME OF A FORMER FRIEND. HER RES- 
 CUE AND RELIEF. 
 
 <mHE LITTLE patrimony left me by my 
 A- brother, added to that which my labors had won, 
 which I had so hopefully presented to my husband to aid 
 and encourage him in the commencement of our united 
 efforts, was rapidly disappearing. 
 
 " ' Indeed, our little cottage, instead of being trans- 
 formed into a larger and more commodious house, as it 
 should have been in all those long years, was already 
 mortgaged for its real value ; and the little plats, where 
 my own hands had placed trees and shrubs of orna- 
 mental beauty, had been desecrated by strangers' 
 hands, and divested of their bloom and beauty, for 
 the erection of rude out-houses and workshops of inferior 
 construction. 
 
 " ' Oh ! how yearningly I pressed my little frail 
 baby-boy to my bosom, and prayed, in the agony of my 
 tortured and bereaved sojul, that 'he might be spared 
 as a life-sustainer to the last tendril of my dying love.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 185 
 
 " ' He has been spared. But oh ! what agony I have 
 endured for him, and anxiety lest he should be torn 
 from me by a hand more cruel and relentless than death 
 and the grave. 
 
 " ' I have been deserted by him who should have 
 cherished and protected me ; by him in whom I trusted 
 as sacredly as in the God of heaven. 
 
 " ' He deserted his home, and spent his time and 
 substance, as did the prodigal son, with harlots and in 
 riotous -living. And, spurred on by his evil advisers, 
 the wantons with whom he associated, he sought to 
 bring against me the false accusation of insanity, and 
 to incarcerate me in a lunatic asylum as an excuse to 
 tear my babe from my bleeding bosom, and heartlessly 
 deprive me of the last remaining stimulus to life and 
 hope, for the wantons for whom he had bartered health, 
 honor, happiness, home, and heaven. 
 
 " ' I gathered up the few remaining keepsakes and 
 trinkets which had been presented me long ago by dear 
 friends, and which I had managed to preserve from the 
 sacrilegious hand of my unfaithful and prodigal husband. 
 
 " ' I fled secretly with my child to a neighboring 
 town, where* resided one who, in the days of my pros- 
 perity, had manifested much friendship for me. 
 
 " ' Many a weary mile I travelled on foot to reach, 
 as I hoped, her friendly and hospitable abode. 
 
 " ' And when, late at nightfall, I arrived weary and 
 
 16*
 
 186 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 travel-worn, hoping that there at least I could find 
 safety and rest, she met me with a cold, disdainful air, 
 and spurned me as she would the vilest outcast in the 
 world. 
 
 " ' My head grew dizzy from the sudden "realities of 
 hopeful trust to hopeless despair, and I sank down in a 
 state of insensibility at the door which had been so in- 
 humanely closed against me. 
 
 "'How long I remained there, I know not. But 
 when I again woke to consciousness, I found myself upon 
 a soft bed, within a home of true benevolence and com- 
 fort. A kind neighbor was passing just in time to hear 
 the heartless and foul abuse with which she had denied 
 me admission to her whited sepulchre, " which " she 
 persisted in telling me, " had never yet been polluted 
 by an outcast, or 'deserter from a faithful husband, and 
 the home he had honored me with." 
 
 " ' He saw me fall senselessly upon the damp turf, 
 and the door close inhumanly against me ; and then he 
 took us to his own home, where humane hearts throbbed 
 around me, and tears of true sympathy fell in behalf of 
 the lone and homeless wanderers. 
 
 " ' She who had so inhumanly closed hei* heart no, 
 she had no heart her doors against us, was a model 
 of excellence and vaunted piety ; was at the head of all 
 the benevolent and missionary societies for miles around. 
 She had even headed a list, with a very flattering do-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 187 
 
 nation, for the erection of a " widow and orphan asylum" 
 among the Shampeaceso Indians, beyond the Rocky 
 Mountains, in close proximity to the setting of the sun ; 
 for which great act of self-denial and benevolence she 
 had been constituted an honorable life-member of that 
 society which her benevolence had founded, by rolling 
 the ' first great stone into that slough of unheard-of un- 
 enlightened heathenism. And for which great act, also, 
 she expected a speedy millennium would follow, as the 
 immediate fruits of her great and world-renowned efforts. 
 
 " ' In the concert-rooms and prayer-meetings few 
 could go beyond her in her eloquent appeals to the un- 
 converted ; and also to the members, generally, for a 
 more zealous interest in behalf of the Shampeacesos 
 toward the setting of the sun. 
 
 " ' She had even -constituted her husband a travelling 
 agent for the free distribution of tracts, to moralize, nat- 
 uralize, and humbugize the whole human family into one 
 loving knot of brotherhood. And also to solicit do- 
 nations for the Shampeacesos and the asylum which 
 she had so benevolently founded. 
 
 " ' It was from her home, which I have designated the 
 whited sepulchre, I was ejected, or rather forbidden to 
 enter with my bleeding heart, weary limbs, and starving 
 babe. And had it not have been for the Christlike 
 benevolence of that humble Sadducee, who worshipped 
 afar off, we might even now have been bleaching upon
 
 188 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 the uncovered sod, victims to her uncharitable and 
 heartless cruelty. 
 
 " ' With the heavy weight of my former misfortunes, 
 and the almost hopeless despair which closed around me, 
 I made one more effort to struggle out into the world, 
 unaided by any friendly arm, save the arm of God and 
 those who had so kindly sheltered me in those hours of 
 homeless destitution. 
 
 " ' And they only who have waded through the deep 
 waters, and beat back alone the angry billows, can know 
 what my sufferings have been.' '
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 EFFIE'S UNEXPECTED MEETING WITH KATE STANTON AT THE 
 
 WAYSIDE INN. THEY JOCKNEY TOGETHER. HER RECEPTION 
 
 AT GLEN COTTAGE. GOING TO COLONIZE THE PEE-WEE 
 
 ISLANDS. 
 
 "'TRESOLVED once more to visit the home 
 JL of my childhood. And if that was closed against 
 me, then I would lay me down to die upon the turf, 
 where my mother's form was peacefully mouldering in 
 sweet forgetfulness of the life-pangs and sufferings which 
 she had endured before me. 
 
 " ' The kind farmer who had taken me in a state of 
 insensibility from the door of the Shampeacesos' friend, 
 also generously supplied me with funds to defray my 
 expenses to Glen Cottage. And his truly Christianlike 
 wife and amiable daughter made me some necessary 
 additions to my scanty wardrobe. 
 
 " ' By taking an early stage, which passed through 
 their nearest settlement, I hoped to elude the revengeful 
 vigilance of my faithless husband, and escape with my 
 child to- a place of safety and repose.
 
 190 EFFIE AND I; OR, 
 
 " ' Two days I had travelled over a rough and almost 
 unbroken portion of the State, when I met you at the 
 wayside inn. And then three days we were travelling 
 companions, and with many regrets parted beneath the 
 drooping willows of Heather ton Avenue. 
 
 " ' Well, I arrived at Glen Cottage and was received 
 with many smiles and pleasant congratulations, flatter- 
 ing indeed to a homeless, friendless wanderer. 
 
 " ' And so I choked back, as best as I could, all my 
 own painful emotions, and thankfully laid my aching 
 head and weary limbs once more beneath the humble 
 roof of my own childhood's home. 
 
 " ' The deep heart-rending trials of the past through 
 which I had struggled . alone, the long and tedious 
 journey, and the overpowering emotions experienced on 
 once more arriving at my childhood's home, all proved 
 too much for my shattered mind and frame. 
 
 " ' And for three days after my arrival, I lay in a 
 sort of half stupor, half-bewildered state of mind, scarcely 
 recognizing the faces which bent over me, or realizing 
 aught that passed around me. 
 
 " ' In those three days I had unconsciously divulged 
 all the painful events which I have here related, only 
 much more minutely, to the occupants of Glen Cottage ; 
 and also the distressing incidents which had driven me 
 there for shelter and relief. 
 
 " ' When I had recovered somewhat from that state
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 191 
 
 of listless bewilderment, and was able to go out of my 
 room and sit in the apartments below, I noticed, with in- 
 describable emotions, that a change had also come over 
 the presiding mistress of that house. 
 
 " ' She was cold, haughty, and reserved, and finally 
 announced to me that I could only be accommodated at 
 the cottage till I could find a house or lodgings else- 
 where. " She felt under no obligations," she said, " to 
 provide for me a home ; because foresooth it had hap- 
 pened once to be in possession of my family. If she acted 
 upon that principle," she continued, " she should soon 
 have her house full of vagrants, each with a claim as just 
 and absurd as my own. And as for that, she might as 
 well have it at once metamorphosed into a hospital or 
 almshouse, and set her name down on the list with the 
 sisters of the ' Holy Cross,' with their cowled monks, 
 priestly confessors, and all that. No, no' : she had done 
 enough in her lifetime to aid the poor ; and now, for 
 her part, she was going to stop. And if others had a 
 mind to be fools enough to waste their substance and 
 sympathies upon such an unthankful, unappreciative 
 mass of the off-scourings of God's creation, they might. 
 But for her part, she had done enough ; and had even 
 now all but turned herself out of house and home for 
 them, and so for her part she thought it was time to 
 stop. Oh, you needn't be in such a hurry as this to 
 budge"
 
 192 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 " ' She said, as I arose with trembling steps and almost 
 pulseless heart, to make my hasty preparations to go out 
 again into the wide world, with naught hut the uplifted 
 hand of God to shield me from the pending storm-clouds 
 and the scorching sun-rays, "you can stay a day or 
 two longer, till you get pricked up a little from your 
 tiresome jaunt. I haven't said half that I want to say to 
 you, for I feel it my borfnden duty to prevail on you to 
 go hack again to your husband. Only think what an 
 awful thing it is, in the sight of a great and holy God, 
 for a wife to desert her home, and the husband whom 
 she has vowed to love, honor, and obey; and especially 
 such as you, who have nowhere else to go, unless you go 
 to the poor-house. Esquire Stoneheart said if many 
 more made application for help, that we should have to 
 charter a colonization ship, and send them away to the 
 Pee-wee Islands or the Ahasuerus Territory. And we 
 should have to send some good missionaries with them, 
 so that they might not grow up like^ the wild beasts, and 
 forget who made them, and the other good instructions 
 which have been dispensed to them, like the crumbs from 
 the rich man's table, all free and gratis. It will be a 
 great and glorious undertaking ; but if our minister and 
 Esquire Stoneheart say that it must be done, then there 
 will be stout hands and willing hearts to aid in the great 
 enterprise. It will cost heaps of money to set it a-foot, 
 but then when it is done, we shall get the worthless un-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 193 
 
 derbrush out from the highway which we have cast up 
 for ourselves to walk in.' 
 
 " ' I heard no more of her heartless harangue ; for 
 with my child, my little valise, and my broken heart, I 
 left the threshold of my native cot, and wended my way 
 with trembling steps to the cypress shades, which sighed 
 their mournful dirges over the graves of my kindred, 
 who were peacefully mouldering there, unconscious of all 
 my sufferings and utter desolation. 
 
 " ' I threw myself upon my mother's grave, .and 
 prayed to God to take us myself and child away 
 from this wicked and heartless world. And while I 
 prayed, the burden of my grief was so great and over- 
 powering, that I sank into a state of insensibility, from 
 which the voices of true sympathy and kindness which 
 came stealing over my senses, like angel whispers, 
 aroused me. 
 
 " ' Yes ; I had resolved to remain there with my child, 
 with no other pillow than my mother's grave, beneath 
 the cypress shade, till God in mercy should take us to 
 the mansions which he has promised us in the blissful 
 spiritrworld.' 
 
 " ' Well, dear Effie,' said good Aunt Heatherton, 
 ' God had not got quite ready to take you yet, and so 
 he constituted me hie agent, to take you here to this old 
 home, that you might share with me the bounty which 
 He has so amply strewn around us. 
 
 17
 
 194 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 " ' This home, and all pertaining to it, is God's, not 
 mine. It is only intrusted to me as a dispenser to the 
 suffering and needy. Should I withhold from them what 
 He has intrusted to my keeping, I should be an unfaith- 
 ful servant in my Master's vineyard, and no longer wor- 
 thy of the high mission intrusted to me. 
 
 '"So, Effie, your gratitude is not due to me, but to 
 God. And you may rest yourself easy ; for it shall not 
 only be my home, but thy home, and little Charley's too, 
 until a better one is prepared for you. And to God only 
 will your obligations be due for the prosperity which 
 may hereafter attend you.' 
 
 " ' God be thanked then,' said Effie, as she threw 
 herself upon the throbbing bosom of her kind benefac- 
 tress.' God be thanked, then, for sparing unto me one 
 true bosom to weep upon ; for truly light has burst upon 
 me, effulgent and glorious, from out the dark, impenetra- 
 ble depths of despair.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 
 
 KATE STANTON'S SOLILOQUY. THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN. GO- 
 ING TO SET A PEG OR TWO LOOSE, TO GIVE THE GREAT 
 
 WHEEL A JOG THE RIGHT WAY. AUNT HEATHERTON'S FEARS 
 
 FOR KATE'S SANITY. KATE LEAVES HEATHERTON HALL. 
 
 " T AROSE, and proceeded softly to my chamber, 
 
 -L lest I might disturb the first gushings of joy 
 which had, perhaps for years, broken through the chilled 
 current of that lone and persecuted heart. 
 
 "'And this,' I soliloquized, as I threw myself upon 
 the soft couch in my comfortable room, 
 
 " ' This is only one little sketch of real life, represent- 
 ing the bigotry and absurdities of a few, who fain would 
 have it understood to the world, that they lead off, in the 
 great work of reform, in civilizing, moralizing, christian- 
 izing, and equalizing the whole human family ; that 
 through their great, laudable, and unmistakable efforts, 
 the deserts shall blossom as the rose ; the land, where 
 broods the darkness of heathenism, shall beam with an 
 effulgence brighter than the noonday sun. 
 
 " ' And the doomed slave, when the power of their
 
 196 EFPIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 influence reaches him, shall lay aside his chain and fet- 
 ters, and sing and dance in the wild ecstasy of his new- 
 born freedom. 
 
 " ' Such reformers always remind me of some poor 
 souls who never find time to set their houses in order, or 
 to look after their own ignorant, ragged, starving ur- 
 chins, because they are needed so much abroad. 
 
 " ' One neighbor is going to have a quilting, and all 
 the town will be there. And another will have an apple- 
 paring ; another a corn husking ; another a sewing-bee, 
 to prepare the fall and winter clothing for a whole fam- 
 
 Uy- 
 
 " ' And then the prayer-meetings and religious festi- 
 vals, surprise parties and a score of donation parties, 
 and social gatherings, and other imperative duties and 
 diversions abroad, leave them neither time nor inclina- 
 tion to repair the mischief in their own homes which 
 their zeal for others has deprived them. 
 
 " ' Thus it is with such reformers, and in fact with the 
 whole world, continually overlooking the duties and 
 obligations of home for something more remote. 
 
 " ' Oh, the world is upside down entirely. It only 
 wants Kate Stanton to set a peg or two loose to give 
 the great wheel a jog the right way. And I'll do it too, 
 Rosa. I've been taking lessons all these years in that 
 very important science. 
 
 " ' I am going to give lectures on " The world as it is,
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 
 
 and as it ought to be." And there is nobody can do 
 that so well as Kate Stanton, the very identical Kate 
 Stanton. 
 
 " ' I have got a patent right for them, just as much 
 as Uncle Noah had for his old ark ; and they defy 
 competition, just as much as did Solomon's Temple, 
 or the great bell of Moscow. And when Kate Stanton 
 does mount the stump, won't the world take a jog the 
 right way ? And oh, won't there be a shaking amongst 
 the dry stubble and underbrush, and upper-crust too ? 
 I'll break through as easily as an elephant breaks 
 through a frog-pond. So you may be sure of a sen- 
 sation then, somewhat resembling that of an earthquake, 
 or an eruption of fire and brimstone from some 
 Magdaline mountain.' 
 
 " I had been sitting a long while in that com- 
 fortable easy -chair, revolving in my own mind the 
 best subjects and methods of adoption, in order to be 
 successful in my great world revolution, when my aunt 
 broke in with, 
 
 " ' Well, I declare ! dreaming again, and not a wink 
 of sleep ; and here it is verging close upon midnight. 
 
 " ' You must certainly overcome this injurious habit, 
 child, or the next thing I shall hear of you, after you 
 leave Willow Dale, will be confinement in a lunatic 
 asylum. 
 
 17*
 
 198 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 " ' Now you have only four hours for repose and 
 breakfast, before the old stage-coach will come rattling 
 over the hills, to bear you away, my mad-cap niece, 
 to your distant home. 
 
 " ' It grieves me to part with you, child, but I know 
 you will never forget your old aunt of Heatherton Hall 
 amidst the gay and exciting scenes of your city home. 
 And remember that your bridal tour must be toward 
 the rising of the sun.' 
 
 " ' yes, aunty, I shall remember all that, and more 
 too. I shall never, never forget your kindness to Effie 
 and little Charley ; and I know that, while you live, 
 they will never be without a home again. 
 
 " ' God bless you, aunty,' I continued, kissing away 
 the tears, as she turned to leave the room. ' I shall 
 never, never forget, what a good kind aunt I have got 
 nestled away upon the rocky coast of the Pine-tree 
 State.' 
 
 " In a few hours I had bade old Heatherton and its 
 inmates a kindly and reluctant adieu ; and the old stage, 
 in which I was ensconsed, was soon rattling over the 
 hills and through the wild woods and clearings of 
 Maine, in the direction of the old Bay State and the 
 busy Spindle City. 
 
 " You remember Helen Mordant and Lotty Elton, 
 Rosa?"
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 199 
 
 " I remember them as the boarders of Mother Gour- 
 don ; but knew nothing further of their history, than 
 that they were 'very quiet, intelligent, ladylike, and 
 factory girls, with the rest of us. 
 
 " I remember, too, that some of the girls called Helen 
 ' Miss Gentility,' and Lotty, ' Miss Delicate Touch-me- 
 not.' They were both very pretty and well-educated 
 girls, and I think that some reversion of fortune was 
 the cause of their becoming operatives in a cotton 
 mill." 
 
 " Such was the case, Rosa. I had a better oppor- 
 tunity of becoming acquainted with them than you had. 
 
 " You know I never made myself a stranger in any 
 of the apartments in old No. 10. I always took a 
 free pass everywhere, and never felt myself an intruder 
 
 either. 
 
 4 
 " And wild as I am, Helen and Lotty often made me 
 
 their confidant and adviser in many important matters 
 connected with their history of real life. After awhile 
 they both left No. 10 and the cotton mill for the 
 hymenial noose. 
 
 " Helen removed to B , a beautiful shore town 
 
 in the vicinity of Portland, and Lotty became a resident 
 
 of S , in -the old Granite State, bordering on the 
 
 Massachusetts line. 
 
 " Well, their homes lay directly on my route to the 
 Spindle City, and I gladly availed myself of that
 
 200 
 
 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 opportunity to spend a day with each, and talk over 
 the scenes of ' Auld Lang Syne,' and renew our pledges 
 of ' Friendship, Love, and Truth,' for the future. 
 
 " To-morrow I will give you a sketch of each of them, 
 as they were told to me, for I know that you will be 
 interested, inasmuch as they were inmates of the same 
 home and cotton mill with ourselves."
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 KATE'S JOURNEY TO THE SPINDLE CITY. SHE VISITS OLD AS- 
 SOCIATES. HER RECEPTION AT COL. G 'S COUNTRY-SEAT. 
 
 -A- long, which seems to rise in grand superiority 
 above the many handsome buildings around it ? ' I 
 inquired of the coachman, as we leisurely journeyed 
 
 through the beautiful town of B , bordering on the 
 
 sea-coast. 
 
 " ' That,' said the driver, ' is the country-seat of Col. 
 
 G , the place where, by your direction, I am to leave 
 
 you, and an elegant situation it is too. He is a gentle- 
 man of great wealth and respectability, and enjoys a 
 goodly supply of happiness, as you may well suppose. 
 
 " By this time we had ridden along nearly opposite" 
 the splendid mansion, and there sat Helen, lovely as ever, 
 and the very picture of happiness, beneath a piazza 
 shaded by woodbines, caressing a beautiful infant, and 
 by her side sat her companion, regarding them with a 
 look of tenderness, while a smile of delight played over 
 his manly brow.
 
 202 BFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 " ' Here,' thought I, 'is a scene for a painter, rife 
 with joy and beauty.' 
 
 " Helen met me with open arms, while a glad tear 
 sparkled in the clear depths of her beautiful eyes ; and 
 then, oh how proudly she presented to me her noble 
 husband and darling babe. 
 
 " ' So,' I said, as we sat at eventide in her richly 
 furnished parlor, ' you are not ashamed to continue 
 acquaintanceship with your old companions of the Spindle 
 City.' 
 
 " ' Ashamed ! Oh no, no, dear Kate. I thank God 
 for the lessons I learned in a cotton mill. To me they 
 have been like the refiner's fire, separating the true gold 
 from the worthless dross of vaunted friendship. Had I 
 never been an inmate of a cotton mill, I should never 
 have become the mistress of this elegant home, nor the 
 happy wife and mother which you now find me. 
 
 " ' Did I ever tell you, Kate, how I became an ope- 
 rative ? 
 
 " ' Well, then, from my childhood I had been a 
 dependent upon the generosity of Dr. Loring, and at 
 eighteen was the affianced bride of his eldest son. 
 
 " ' Alonzo being the eldest, had received a collegiate 
 education, and gained a medical profession. 
 
 " ' He had loved me from childhood, and that love 
 had grown with his growth, and strengthened with his 
 strength.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 203 
 
 " ' And when far from home, whether in the halls of 
 literature, or bending over pages of classic lore, or 
 consuming the midnight oil, he said that my spirit 
 seemed ever present with him, pointing him onward to 
 fame and honor. 
 
 " ' He had fled from the gay throng of beauty and 
 fashion, and, like the magnet to the pole, his heart turned 
 true to the light and joys of home and me. 
 
 " ' His parents saw, approved, and encouraged the 
 attachment ; while they strove to cultivate my mind for 
 the station which they fondly anticipated I should fill. 
 " ' Alonzo was making preparations to fill a vacancy in 
 
 the beautiful village of M , and I was thinking of 
 
 another enterprise. 
 
 " ' A few evenings before his departure, I was sitting 
 in- our favorite arbor, when he broke in upon my 
 reveries, with, 
 
 " ' Upon my word, Helen, I verily believed you had 
 lost your senses, or that they had taken an aerial 
 flight ; for I have been standing at the entrance of 
 the arbor a long time, and you appeared wholly uncon- 
 scious of it. Tell me, my dear, for I believe that I 
 should now almost claim a right to read your thoughts, 
 where have they been straying, that the voice of your 
 lover and betrothed could not recall them ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh,' I answered, blushing, and raising my eyes 
 timidly to his, ' they were only taking a little excursion 
 to the Spindle City.'
 
 204 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 " ' To the Spindle City ! You surprise me, Helen ; 
 what is there within those huge brick walls, and the 
 buzz of spindles, and clattering of looms and machinery, 
 to absorb the heart and soul of my lovely Helen ? I 
 was not aware that any friend of yours was confined 
 within the precincts of a factory yard.' 
 
 " ' Nor is there,' I answered ; ' but you know, Alonzo, 
 that for many years I have been a dependent upon 
 your father's generosity ; and to you I am betrothed, 
 and in one year we are to be united. 
 
 " ' I cannot, after receiving so many favors from your 
 parents, throw myself, a penniless dependent and almost 
 beggar, upon their son, who has nothing but his profes- 
 sion to commence with. 
 
 " ' I am, therefore, resolved to quit, for the present, 
 these rural haunts, these hills and glens, and deep, 
 shadowy, wild -woods, and, more than all, this happy 
 home, and the society of those, dear as my life, for the 
 dull monotony and clamor of a factory yard.' 
 
 " ' Oh, Helen ! ' he said, ' is it possible that you have 
 come to such a determination ? You, the graceful, 
 lovely, and accomplished Helen Mordant ! Is this the 
 use you would make of those rare accomplishments, by 
 mingling with the low and vulgar factory operatives, and 
 burying your superior talents in the earth ? ' 
 
 " ' You mistake, Alonzo,' I said. ' It is an honorable, 
 or at least an honest, vocation ; besides, I shall find
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 205 
 
 many worthy and accomplished young ladies there, who 
 prefer a factory life to the galling chains of poverty or 
 dependence ; and many, very many, go there from 
 choice, who have wealthy parents. So, you see, that I 
 shall not be at a loss for associates. 
 
 " ' And as for my accomplishments, if a few months 
 in a factory should tarnish them or diminish their bril- 
 liancy, they surely cannot be founded upon the sure 
 standard of virtue and piety. ' 
 
 " ' I know, my dear Alonzo, that you will not love 
 me the less for being separated from you, although my 
 occupation may not be quite so congenial to your feel- 
 ings. 
 
 " ' Some, perhaps, may sneer, and slander may throw 
 her poisonous darts at me, but I know that you have a 
 mind far above those who look upon honest labor with 
 contempt. It is with the greatest confidence that I shall 
 leave you, Alonzo, well knowing that yours is a heart 
 too noble to be changed by the pernicious breath of 
 slander.' ' 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A FACTORY GIRI/8 HOME. 
 
 "'^rrOU ARE a noble girl,' Alonzo said, after 
 J- sitting some moments in a thoughtful mood, 
 ' and if you go, never for once suffer yourself to think 
 that I shall be untrue. No ; but I love you the better 
 for the sacrifice. 
 
 " ' You will have my consent to go, not for the gains 
 of a few months of toil, but to give you an opportunity 
 of raising yourself from that dependence which, to a 
 min(J like yours, I know is intolerable. 
 
 " ' It is not for my happiness that I thus consent to 
 part with you ; but yours, solely yours ; and, with the 
 blessing of Heaven, I leave you to your most excellent 
 judgment, which I know will never misguide you. 
 
 " ' May you ever be as happy as you are good. 
 Believe me, Helen, when I tell you, that I shall not long 
 deprive myself of that happiness and society which has, 
 for years, been a day-star to all the hopes, exertions, 
 and privations of the past, and will be as a secret spring 
 to every enterprise of the future. Take this,' he con-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 207 
 
 tinned, placing a ring upon my finger, ' take this, as a 
 pledge of our mutual love and my truth; and, as I 
 have told you, never doubt my faithfulness to you. 
 Give yourself no uneasiness, if sometimes you should be 
 disappointed in the reception of a letter ; for, soon after 
 your departure, I intend to take up my residence in 
 the little village which you have so often admired for its 
 picturesque and romantic scenery; and the responsibility, 
 care, and many perplexities attending a young, inex- 
 perienced physician, I fear, will sometimes deprive me 
 of the pleasure of communing with one I would ever 
 love and cherish. 
 
 " ' Let us leave the arbor, and return home by the 
 winding path, shaded by the drooping branches of the 
 trees we pruned and cultured when our young spirits 
 were light and buoyant as air, and we sported fearless 
 and free as the passing zephyr. 
 
 " ' See ! the sun has long since sunk behind the range 
 of mountains far to the west, and the moon is already 
 dipping her smiling face in the placid waters of our 
 beautiful lake, and throwing her silvery light on the 
 hills and home of our childhood.' 
 
 " ' Perhaps,' I replied, ' when we again shall visit this 
 spot, endeared to us by so many pleasing recollections, a 
 change may have passed over our youthful anticipations, 
 and like yonder beautiful flower, bent to the earth by 
 the weight of the night-dews, our spirits may be bowed
 
 208 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 down and broken by disappointment, treachery, or mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 " ' But we will leave the future with Him who orders 
 all things for the best ; and while we trust in Him, we 
 shall never fail to be happy.' 
 
 " ' When a few weeks more had passed away, I was 
 an operative in a cotton mill, and Alonzo had removed 
 to his station in the beautiful village of M . 
 
 " ' It was at the close of a warm, sultry day in 
 August, some few months after our separation, a day 
 which had been one of great exertion and care to 
 Alonzo, that he had seated himself by a window in his 
 office to enjoy a little relaxation from his arduous task, 
 and regale himself with the cool breezes which swept 
 over a beautiful valley and river which emerged from a 
 deep forest, i then suddenly hiding itself behind a 
 rocky and b .tifully shaded highland. 
 
 " ' His window looked out upon a scenery not sur- 
 passed in New England for its beauty and sublimity. 
 
 " ' He was lost in a deep and pleasant reverie, when 
 the post-boy hastily entered, and carelessly tossing a 
 letter upon the table, withdrew. 
 
 " ' He took it, and hastily recognized the handwriting 
 of his own and distant Helen. 
 
 " ' He read it over and over again, while each thought 
 and sentiment of his heart beat in unison with those 
 traced in the little sheet he held before him ; and he 
 was happy.
 
 SEVEN "YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 209 
 
 " ' Thus he sat, fondly dreaming of a more propitious 
 future, when a strain of music, soft and plaintive as the 
 geolian harp, arrested his attention. 
 
 " ' He readily perceived from whence it proceeded ; 
 for in an opposite building, by an open casement, sat a 
 being of surpassing beauty. 
 
 " ' Her long dark tresses, which were slightly agitated 
 by the passing zephyrs, fell in luxuriance over a neck 
 and shoulders of perfect mould. 
 
 " ' Her eyes, dark as the gazelle's, seemed intently 
 fixed upon the piece of music she was performing, 
 while her small white hands swept lightly over her harp, 
 accompanied by a voice bewitchingly sweet and soft as 
 a syren's. 
 
 " ' He seemed spell-bound to the spot, entranced by 
 the magical sweetness of her voice and harp, till he saw 
 her sylphlike form glide gracefully from the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " ' With sensations, which a short time before were 
 most foreign to his mind, he retired to his lodgings, while 
 her beautiful figure danced before his imagination with 
 all the lightness and elasticity of youth, and her clear, 
 mellow voice and song completely intoxicated his senses, 
 so that for once his Helen and her recent letter were 
 entirely forgotten. 
 
 " ' Thus, night after night passed away ; she artfully 
 laying her plans to entrap him, while he was uncon- 
 
 18*
 
 210 'EFFIE AND i; OR, 
 
 sciously yielding to her insinuations and captivating 
 smiles. Angelia Ingalls was a heartless coquette, the 
 only daughter of a very wealthy merchant, and the sole 
 heir of his large estate, and also possessing a face and 
 form surpassingly beautiful. 
 
 " ' But it was only a casket that contained no jewel ; 
 for through those dark eyes a noble intellect and lofty 
 soul never emitted its brilliant rays, nor melted with the 
 deep sympathetic emotions of a generous heart. 
 
 " ' She could smile upon the gay butterflies of fashion, 
 the dupes of her artifices that swarmed around her, and 
 frown upon those too honest to flatter. In short, she 
 was a proud, self-conceited, vain beauty. 
 
 " ' Such was Angelia when Alonzo Loring became a 
 resident of the beautiful village of M . 
 
 " ' She saw him daily as he entered his office, and 
 was struck with his fine figure and noble deportment, 
 and was at once determined to have his name enrolled 
 upon the list of her many admirers. 
 
 " ' I shall succeed,' she said, after spending an hour 
 at her toilet, on the evening we introduce her. ' I shall 
 succeed if my mirror informs me right, and I know it is 
 correct. Yes, I 'shall succeed,' she continued, as she 
 tastefully arranged her dark, glossy ringlets over her 
 alabaster brow and neck of snowy whiteness. 
 
 " ' Then, with an air and expression which was sure 
 of a conquest, she seated herself by the open casement, 
 opposite the young physician's office.'
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 
 
 " ' And did she succeed ? ' I inquired, rather^ anxious 
 to know the result of her artful schemings. 
 
 " ' Yes,' she answered, ' the noble and. talented 
 Alonzo Loring suffered his heart to be led captive by 
 a silly woman, and, within a few short months, she 
 became his bride. 
 
 " ' I had been a resident of Lowell nearly a year, and 
 was making preparations to return home, with the expec- 
 tation of becoming Alonzo's wife, when one evening as 
 I returned to my boarding-house, old No. 10, rather 
 more dispirited than usual, for, notwithstanding my con- 
 fidence in Alonzo, I had a presentiment that all was not 
 right ; his long silence I could not attribute to urgent 
 business. 
 
 " ' But on entering my room, I found two letters to 
 my address. 
 
 " ' A ray of hope lighted up my heart, and for a 
 moment dispelled my sad forebodings ; but it was only 
 for a moment. For, on opening Alonzo's letter, I read 
 with dismay that he was the husband of another. 
 
 " ' Forgive me Helen,' the letter said, 1 1 have 
 injured you ; but I am not worthy to possess one so pure 
 and heaven-like. You will be happy, for you will have 
 no broken vow rankling in your bosom, and no dark 
 deeds of treachery or inconstancy to throw their blight- 
 ning mildew over your youthful pathway.' 
 
 " ' When I had finished this letter, I arose from my
 
 212 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 seat, an^l, meekly bowing, committed my case to Him 
 who gives grace sufficient in every time of need, and 
 strength equal to our day. 
 
 " ' It was a deep, deep struggle, but my mind arose 
 superior, and I tore him from the shrine of my heart. 
 
 " ' I opened the seal of the other letter. This in- 
 formed me that my only sister was rapidly declining 
 with consumption, and a request that I would hasten to 
 see her. 
 
 " ' This announcement aroused ah* my energies to 
 action, and the next day found me on my way to my 
 sister's home in a distant town. 
 
 '"I will not attempt to describe fhe emotions of my 
 heart, as I anxiously watched over my dying sister; 
 but when I felt that death had severed the only tie 
 which bound me to earth, the world seemed to lose its 
 charms, and for once I wished myself lying by her side, 
 for I was alone. 
 
 " ' Time passed on, and I had regained much of my 
 former cheerfulness ; the rose again bloomed upon my 
 cheek, and smiles chased the shadows from my lip and 
 
 brow, when Col. G , a distant relative of my sister's 
 
 husband, came to spend a few months of summer with 
 him, for the benefit of the pure country air. 
 
 " ' He was a gentleman of great wealth and respecta- 
 bility, and when he became acquainted with me 
 strange as it may seem to you he made ardent pro- 
 fessions of love, and won me for his bride.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 213 
 
 " ' And here we live, enjoying a goodly share of 
 happiness, as you may well suppose.' ' 
 
 " And what," said I, " has become of Alonzo ? " 
 
 " ' Oh,' Helen replied, ' when at college he took a 
 glass now and then with his jovial, wine-drinking com- 
 panions, and so after" his marriage he became intemperate. 
 
 " ' His friends who had patronized him left, one after 
 another, until he was obliged, by his embarrassed circum- 
 stances, to leave his beautiful village, and emigrate to 
 the West, where he still lives, not the happiest of men, 
 cherishing within his breast the charm of a broken vow. 
 
 " ' And I have never regretted the year that I spent 
 in a cotton mill, nor the discipline which awarded the 
 true gold for the dross.' 
 
 " Just then ' the true gold,' in the shape of her 
 
 devoted Col. G entered, with his little crowing 
 
 baby, who, with outstretched arms and coaxing ' goo-goo,' 
 nestled its little dimpled face joyfully within its mother's 
 bosom. 
 
 " A right happy day was that which I spent with 
 Helen, in her luxurious home, and not, until I had 
 promised to repeat my visit the ensuing summer, and 
 stay a whole month with them at their country-seat, was 
 I allowed to take my departure."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 KATE VISITS LOTTY ELTON IN THE OLD GBANITE STATE. HER 
 STORY. MIRA GRANBY GOING TO AUNT BOSTON'S. 
 
 - " I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled, 
 
 Above the green elms, that a cottage was near ; 
 
 And I said if there's peace to be found in the world, 
 
 A heart that is humble might hope for it here." 
 
 " T T W A S at the close of my day's journey, after 
 JL leaving Helen and her luxurious home, that the 
 old stage-coach gained the summit of a hill from which 
 I had a view of the romantic residence of my old friend 
 of the Spindle City, Lotty Elton. 
 
 "It was a white cottage, almost concealed by the 
 clustering vine and tall, sweeping elms which sur- 
 rounded and overshadowed it. At a little distance in 
 the background, a broad stream meandered along its 
 rocky bank, and further in was the broad, deep, shadowy 
 forest, tinged with all the variegated beauty of early 
 autumn. 
 
 " The keen bracing air which swept over the towering 
 heights of the old Granite State, imparted to the weary 
 travellers a buoyancy of spirit and a deeper glow to the
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 215 
 
 healthful cheek, which made the appearance of a cheer- 
 ful fire and comfortably-furnished parlor a desirable 
 treat. 
 
 " ' And surely,' I thought, ' a heart not quite so hum- 
 ble might hope for happiness here ; and, I doubt not, 
 that the inmates of that romantic cottage enjoy it to 
 perfection.' 
 
 " Well, while the jaded horses are ambling wearily 
 along over the rocky road which lay between us and 
 that vine-embowered cottage, I will just give you a little 
 sketch of its mistress, Lotty Elton. 
 
 " 'Lotty Elton's father was a merchant of some con- 
 siderable note and respectability, although he had ever 
 resided in the old ancestral home, which had submitted 
 to many improvements and enlargements since the days 
 of his grandfather. 
 
 " Yet the ' moss-covered bucket ' still remained sus- 
 pended in the well as in days of yore, and the tall, 
 gigantic elm, which had stood nearly a century, still 
 shaded the front door with its thick and verdant foliage j 
 and far away in front of the house lay a beautiful 
 lawn, around which a sunny rivulet meandered, shaded 
 by trees of various size anol form. 
 
 " While along the western horizon the White Moun- 
 tains of New Hampshire arose with grand and imposing 
 majesty. 
 
 " And even the dense and shadowy forest, gently
 
 216 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 bowing to the summer's breeze, was not the least to give 
 interest and beauty to a place so enchantingly lovely 
 and romantic as that which surrounded the home of the 
 Eltons. 
 
 " It was here that Lotty first breathed the pure air 
 of heaven, and felt its balmy breath fanning her innocent 
 and childish brow. 
 
 " It was here she first sported with the opening buds 
 of spring, and culled, with her tiny fingers, the gaudy 
 flowers of summer. 
 
 " It was here she learned the purity and worth of 
 parental affection, the fond and sacred ties of ' Home, 
 sweet home.' 
 
 " It was here that sixteen summers of her sunny life 
 had been spent, without even one cloud of sorrow to 
 obscure its brilliancy ; and the future seemed to arise 
 before her as bright and flowery as the past had been. 
 
 " Lotty was beautiful, very beautiful, with a lithe and 
 graceful figure, a proud and beaming eye of the deepest 
 blue, and an air of dignity and refinement, scarcely, if 
 ever, excelled by those of maturer years. 
 
 " Her hair was of that bright, golden hue, which poets 
 have celebrated in song, shading a neck and brow of 
 transparent whiteness. 
 
 " But these were not the richest and loveliest of 
 Heaven's gifts to Lotty ; for she possessed a confiding, 
 sensitive, and affectionate heart, a sweetness and amia-
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 217 
 
 bility of disposition which plainly bespoke the innocence 
 and purity of her young and tender mind. 
 
 " At sixteen she was sent to a neighboring town to 
 finish the education upon which as yet no pains or 
 expense had been withheld, in order to make her an 
 accomplished lady, and fit her for usefulness in the 
 world. 
 
 " But ere one term of those happy school-days had 
 passed away, she was hurriedly summoned to attend 
 the last hours of a dying mother. 
 
 " Death is everywhere an unbidden and unwelcome 
 guest. He enters alike, uncalled for, the hermit's hut 
 and the princely palace. Emperors and noblesj with, 
 the obscure cottagers, bow before the desolating and 
 powerful influence. Cities and towns, from the cold, 
 frozen mountains of Greenland, to the soft, balmy, and 
 fertile plains of India, are laid waste by his destroying 
 arm, and submit to his relentless mandate ; and who 
 dare bid defiance to his grim, unearthly visage ? 
 
 " One year made direful changes within the walls of 
 that old mansion, for death had been busy there, and 
 all that Lotty had clung to in life had been made its 
 victims. 
 
 " And the world to her, full of life and activity as it 
 was, appeared a worthless blank ; its bright and glowing 
 charms faded before her ; and even hope, with her flat- 
 tering smile and delusive whisperings, could not find 
 
 19
 
 218 EFFIE AND i; OR, 
 
 a resting-place within her desolate and sorrow-stricken 
 bosom. 
 
 " After Mr. Elton's death, it appeared that his estate 
 was in a very embarrassed situation, and his partners in 
 business skilfully managed to secure the little that re- 
 mained after the demands of the creditors had been 
 supplied. 
 
 " Lotty had been delicately and affectionately nurtured 
 in the lap of indulgence, and care and toil had never 
 imposed themselves upon her youthful pathway. 
 
 " Now she was penniless. Young and inexperienced 
 as she was, she must be cast upon the mercies of a 
 cold-hearted and relentless world. Her heart died 
 within her, as a sense of her present lonely and defence- 
 less situation came up before her. 
 
 " She looked back upon the past, but tears and 
 despondency were all that remained as a tribute to its 
 receding joys. 
 
 " ' And what can I do ? ' she asked herself, while 
 the storm of conflicting emotions raged wildly within her 
 gentle bosom. 
 
 " ' La ! why don't you go to the factory, Lotty ? ' 
 said Mira Grandby, the former associate and almost 
 constant companion of Lotty Elton in her happier and 
 more prosperous days. ' Go to the factory, Lotty, that 
 is just the place for such girls as you ; and there's lots 
 of them there, I can tell you.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 219 
 
 " ' I thought of going there myself, if my father is 
 Esquire Grandby, just to get me some fine clothes, and 
 such like, for my bridal gear ; but I've given it up now. 
 Aunt Boston has sent for me, and says she wants to 
 bring me out, because I'm handsome and attractive, 
 and all that. And so I've given up Frank Deyton too, 
 because my aunt says, that she is going to get me a 
 husband that don't make his debut into the world and 
 society in general every day. 
 
 " ' Aunt Boston is one of the aristocrats, and she 
 knows a thing or two. And I'm going just as soon as 
 I can get ready, and Frank Deyton may go to grass, 
 unless you well there,' she said, laughing outright, 
 I never thought of it hefore ; but, Lotty, he would be 
 a capital match for you, and I will tell him so. 
 
 " ' If you should go to the factory, you might go 
 when I do ; for Aunt Boston doesn't live thirty miles 
 from the Spindle City. But then I should have to cut 
 you there, for it would never do to let aunt know that I 
 was acquainted with a factory girl. 
 
 " ' But I will write to you once, only I shan't let 
 aunt know it, just to let you know how aristocracy and 
 I get along at Aunt Boston's. 
 
 " ' My aunt's proposals are very flattering, don't you 
 think so, Lotty ? Pshaw, I shall give up Frank and 
 every thing else connected with my rustic home, without 
 much regret.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV . 
 
 MIRA GRANDBY'S VISIT AT AUNT BOSTON'S, AND WHAT CAME 
 OF IT. 
 
 HIS IS a little paradise, Lotty, and you are 
 J- a little witching waif, flitting here and there 
 and everywhere, like a dancing sunbeam^ and I every 
 moment expecting that you will disappear altogether, 
 and leave me in the shadow of doubt and perplexity 
 respecting Mira Grandby's visit to her Aunt Boston, and 
 what came of it.' 
 
 " ' No, no, dear Kate ; wait just one moment longer, 
 till I get little Frank and Willie nicely adjusted in their 
 little trundle-bed, and the baby tucked up warm and 
 comfortable in his soft, cosy crib, and give Jane the 
 necessary instructions, in preparing a nice warm supper 
 for dear Frank when he returns from his long ride up 
 the river, and one or two more tit-bits of housewifery, 
 and then, Kate - ' 
 
 " In a few moments she bounded girlishly into the 
 room, and taking a seat upon the sofa by my side, com- 
 menced :
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 221 
 
 " ' Frank had loved Mira Grandby devotedly and truly, 
 and when the truth of her heartless coquetry flashed 
 upon his mind, with unmistakable force, it wellnigh 
 seemed to unman him.* 
 
 " ' But without a word of remonstrance he left her, 
 and followed a little footpath along the river's bank, in 
 the direction of his cottage home.. He gained a favorite 
 moss-covered seat, constructed by the rude hand of 
 nature, and, burying his face in his labor-soiled palm, he 
 wept. Yes, the strong man wept. 
 
 " ' In a moment, as if by some sudden impulse, he 
 started up ; his cheek was flushed, the full veins were 
 almost bursting. through the throbbing temples, and the 
 swollen eyes were wet with bitter tears.' 
 
 " ' I see how it is,' he exclaimed. ' I am poor, and 
 she a votary of fashion and wealth ; but she shall re- 
 pent it.' 
 
 " ' And there, beneath the broad and high-arched 
 canopy of heaven, with the bright flowing river at his 
 feet, and around him the soft, ravishing smiles of the 
 silvery moonbeams, he formed a high and holy resolve. 
 
 " ' Begone every remembrance of the past,' he said, 
 with an energy that only those of a great soul can 
 command, as he brushed from his cheek and brow every 
 trace of bitterness and tears. 
 
 " ' These tears,' he said to himself, ' are the offspring 
 of weakness, and ill become a man of high resolves. 
 19*
 
 222 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 She is not worthy of them ; no, the woman who will 
 sacrifice her own and others' happiness for wealth, is not 
 worthy a tear of regret. 
 
 " ' I will forget her, at least so far as never again 
 to bestow upon her the purest offerings of my youthful 
 love.' 
 
 " ' From that hour Frank Deyton was another man. 
 Decision was stamped upon every feature, and " ad- 
 vancement and perseverance " was his motto, while 
 fame seemed already reaching forth to raise him to her 
 high and honored pinnacle. 
 
 " ' I went to Lowell, and with a thankful heart com- 
 menced the honest and pleasant labors of an operative in 
 a cotton mill ; but before one year had passed away, in 
 that pleasant occupation, I had pledged my heart and 
 hand to .the discarded of Mira Grandby. 
 
 " ' But here is her letter ; you know that she promised 
 to write me once, and here it is. It is so characteristic 
 of its inventor, that I have carefully preserved it.' ' 
 
 " DEAR LOTTY, You, surrounded by a city of 
 spindles and cotton bags, can scarcely imagine the 
 pleasures and gayeties of genteel city life. Sailing, 
 riding, promenading, parties, balls, and operas, crowding 
 upon each other in rapid succession. 
 
 It is a continual routine of gayety ; even my aunt of 
 forty receives the admiration of the gay world as much
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 223 
 
 as the maid of eighteen. I am ever by her side, and 
 you must suppose that my vanity is sometimes very 
 much flattered, on entering a crowded hall, to hear my 
 name pronounced with emphasis by some smart, dashing 
 gallant, or distinguished gentleman. 
 
 I often fancy that I see envy lurking beneath many a 
 long silken lash of the beautiful elite on my approach ; 
 for they call me beautiful, notwithstanding my aunt 
 greatly annoys me, by sometimes introducing me as her 
 husband's niece from the country. 
 
 Oh ! the dull, uncouth, country life ! I am almost 
 ashamed of its being the place of my birth and child- 
 hood ; although, in cooler moments, I do look back upon 
 the innocent sports and pleasures with something like 
 regret, that I was ever induced to leave them by a 
 selfish and calculating aunt. 
 
 I do believe, Lotty, that she was selfish in taking me 
 into her family ; for 1 have learned, by accident, that 
 they are in straitened circumstances, and with my assist- 
 ance they are enabled to dispense with one servant, 
 and thereby the more securely keep up appearances. 
 My aunt often keeps me whole mornings engaged in the 
 cook-room, under the false pretence that it is what every 
 young lady should be thoroughly acquainted with. 
 
 But I learned that accomplisHhient, long ago, in my 
 own mother's kitchen, and it is because I have learned 
 it so well, that I must be kept in servitude during long
 
 224 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 mornings, when I would rather be promenading the 
 principal streets, or making pleasant calls upon some of 
 the accomplished ladies of my acquaintance. 
 
 If my aunt discovers any thing like discontent upon 
 my brow, she is always near to praise me for my superi- 
 or beauty and improved appearance ; and her great tact 
 at playing the agreeable soon drives every unhappy 
 sensation from my breast. 
 
 She well repays the privations of the morning, by 
 taking me to some scene of gayety and amusement in 
 the evening. 
 
 Proposals for my hand as yet have been rather limited, 
 although -I have many admirers. Only one has pro- 
 posed for my hand, and he is a wealthy foreigner of 
 noble descent. You would think he was a millionaire, 
 from the splendid appearance he makes in the world of 
 fashion. 
 
 I have not made up my mind to accept him, for I 
 must confess that he is ugly looking, although his great 
 wealth is a very prominent feature of beauty to be sure. 
 It is whispered that he is dissipated, but that I think is 
 not true, further than is every young man of fashion. 
 He seems quite a ladies' man, and well designed to please. 
 My aunt is rather inclined to think I had better accept 
 his proposals, from sel^shness I dare say, but I care not 
 what her motives may be ; if she will only secure to me 
 a splendid alliance, I will take care of the result.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 225 
 
 By the way, I will just inquire after my old gallant, 
 Frank Deyton ; I almost blush when I compare him 
 with the accomplished and pleasing admirers who throng 
 around me. I have not heard a word from him since I 
 left my country home ; poor fellow, I suppose he is quite 
 inconsolable, for I think that he did love me truly and 
 ardently. 
 
 Do offer him a little of your sweet condolence, Lotty. 
 I did not make him an offer of your hand, as I intended, 
 from the fact that I never got a sight at him, after I 
 gave him the mitten. But here comes my beau elect, 
 in his dashing carriage ; so, after having nearly filled my 
 sheet, without saying half that I wish to, I must close 
 abruptly, wishing you a happy union with some one of 
 the honest backwoodsmen. 
 
 MIRA GRANDBY."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 LOTTT'S LETTER TO MIRA GRANDBY. HER VINDICATION OF 
 FACTORY GIRLS. 
 
 " ' T" T IS enough,' I said, as I hastily refolded the 
 J- cold and heartless letter from one who, from 
 childhood, had been my friend and confidant. Enough 
 to show me the contaminating influence of a life of gayety 
 and vain amusements, where the soul is void of lofty 
 principle, and the heart of holy emotions. Enough to 
 show me a mind incapable of appreciating the warm, 
 pure, and generous affections of an honest and noble 
 heart. 
 
 " ' How art thou fallen, Mira, friend of other days, from 
 the high standard upon which my affections had placed 
 thee! 
 
 " ' I will yet make one effort to recall thee, I said, 
 and heaven grant that it may prove effectual. And, 
 taking a pen, I hastily wrote a few lines ; but you will 
 excuse me, Katy dear, if I don't expose it to your criti- 
 cism, she said, as she made a sly movement to conceal a 
 mysterious looking package under her apron.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 227 
 
 " ' Not a bit of it Lotty ; I never excuse any thing but 
 the toothache and the doctor's bill ; so, like a wise 
 judge as I am, I must hear both sides of the matter to 
 understand the case perfectly ; so let that little myste- 
 rious package display itself to the public once in a life- 
 time.' 
 
 " ' Well, Katy, here it is, for better or for worse,' 
 she said, as she reluctantly commenced." 
 
 " FRIEND MIRA, For such I would still deem thee, 
 although by your recent letter, I perceive that a change 
 has come over the friend of my early 'youth. 
 
 If the pleasures and gayeties of a city life, which you 
 say I can scarcely imagine, ensconced away in this City 
 of Spindles and cotton bags, have wrought this direful 
 change in you, I must say that they are contaminating 
 indeed. Contrast for a moment the pure, innocent, 
 elevated joys of an unaspiring, unassuming factory girl, 
 who rises in the early morn, tuning her cheerful lays 
 with the earliest matins of the lark, as she trips lightly to 
 her task, called by the merry chiming of the factory 
 bells, inhaling the first fragrant breath of dewy morn 
 from shrub and flower, with the flush of health on her 
 cheek, and the light of vigor and buoyancy of spirit in 
 the eye, contentment and tranquillity in the heart. 
 
 Contrast her for a moment with the reigning city 
 belle, who spends her nights in a round of gayety and
 
 228 EFFIE AND I| OR, 
 
 amusements, seeking for admiration, aspiring after the 
 wealth and applause of the world, sleeping away a glori- 
 ous summer morn, until the downy pillow has become a 
 weariness, and then, pale and languid, arises only to 
 prepare for another scene of amusement and dissipation. 
 
 Think you not, Mira, that the pleasures of the 
 factory girl, or the retired country girl, are by far more 
 elevated and pure than those which pervade the breast of 
 the vain votary of fashion and admiration ? From your 
 own experience of country life, you can answer. 
 
 Reflect soberly and candidly. Leave a vain, con- 
 ceited, artful, and selfish aunt, and return once more to 
 the home of your childhood, to the scenes of earlier 
 days. 
 
 Seek a father's protecting mansion, a mother's kind 
 guidance ; for no selfish, designing plots, find a resting- 
 place in a mother's heart, but love, pure and holy, such 
 as fills the breasts of angels. 
 
 There, around your own native home, all na.ture is 
 spread out to please the eye of man, and satisfy in some 
 degree his noble aspirations. 
 
 There the broad fields are waving with the rich, 
 golden harvest, and the deep, shadowy woodlands are 
 just beginning to put on their robes of variegated beauty ; 
 and their summer songsters are chanting their farewell 
 lays, ere they take their departure for the fragrant 
 bowers and balmy air of a southern shore.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 229 
 
 Then, like those wandering songsters, Mira,. return 
 to thy more congenial home, a Home which will protect 
 thee from the cold, withering blight of an artful and 
 designing world. A home which will shield thee from 
 the vile slanderer's poisonous tongue, which has blotted 
 out the fair fame of many as innocent, ^virtuous, and 
 lovely as thyself; a home which shall be as a strong 
 battlement from the tempter's wiles and the flatterer's 
 bland and deceitful smiles. 
 
 Return again to thy home, and when one, all worthy 
 of thy heart and hand, shall lay before thee the richest, 
 purest offerings of a disinterested love, turn not away 
 with contemptuous scorn ; for remember, it must be the 
 purest and most devoted love which can make thy 
 husband a blessing, and thy fireside the seat of happi- 
 ness and contentment. 
 
 But all the wealth of the Indies, combined with the 
 honors and applause of the world, can never secure to 
 thee a life of tranquillity and happiness,' if he, whom thou 
 shouldst vow to love and obey, should prove the reverse 
 of tenderness and affection. 
 
 Then seek in a companion for life a man of worth ; not 
 the worth of dollars and cents and broad domains, but 
 the worth of the mind and soul ; a man of ennobling 
 virtues, from whose heart flow undisguised the purest 
 emotions of a disinterested love. One who will respect 
 
 20-
 
 ' 230 EFFIE AND I | OR, 
 
 thy purity, who will appreciate thy virtues, thy society, 
 thy love, for thyself altaie. 
 
 Then give to such an one, Mira, your hand, your 
 heart, your confidence, your all ; for there you may be 
 assured that your peace, your happiness, your respecta- 
 bility are safe. 
 
 Seek not thus earnestly the vain, unmeaning admi- 
 ration of the world, for it vanishes like the vapory cloud 
 before the scorching rays of a noonday sun. 
 
 Desire not the shining wealth of earth, for it flies 
 away like the mountain mist before a sunny morn. 
 
 Then seek those more endurable riches, an inheri- 
 tance in the skies, a crown of glory. Seek earnestly, 
 unceasingly, that better part which shall never be taken 
 away from you, and that friend who never, no, never 
 forsakes ; and great will be your happiness on earth, 
 and greater your reward in heaven. 
 
 You requested me to write you something concern- 
 ing Frank Deyton. You well know that he had acquired 
 a superior business education, and, since you left home, 
 he has spent one term at our well-disciplined seminary, 
 and now is a student at the Theological Institution in 
 A , a few miles distant from this City of Spindles 
 and cotton bags. And so far is he from being inconsol- 
 able, that he is pursuing his. studies with great, spirit and 
 perseverance, and I presume that at some future day 
 you will hear from him again ; for, as I have previously
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 231 
 
 told you, he bids fair to become a great and distin- 
 guished man. 
 
 So far as it regards myself, I will say that I have 
 not formed an alliance with any one as yet; for I think 
 it a subject which requires great deliberation. 
 
 It is a vow which seals to every one a life of misery 
 or happiness ; although I should think it an honor to 
 bestow my hand and heart upon an honest backwoods- 
 man, who has been free from the temptations and vices 
 which so often cross the path of a youth of wealth and 
 fashion in a gay city. 
 
 You may think that I have been rather explicit, but 
 I dared not be otherwise, when I consider the happiness, 
 the reputation, the all, was at stake of her whom I have 
 
 ever considered a friend and confidant. 
 
 LOTTY. 
 M CORPORATION, No. 10."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 MIRA GRANDBY WEDS AN ARISTOCRAT. HE PROVES A GAMBLER 
 AND SPENDTHRIFT. AT LAST DESERTS HER. 
 
 <rpHAT IS just like Lotty Elton,' said Mira, 
 J- as she carelessly threw aside the letter, and 
 resumed her languid, reclining position upon the sofa. 
 
 " ' I might have expected the same from her. She is 
 always preaching up purity, morality, and love in a 
 cottage, and I half suspect that she is envious of the 
 good fortune my beauty and accomplishments are likely 
 to win. 
 
 " ' But I will not be duped by her ; I'm for a life of 
 happiness in a splendid alliance. What is all her love 
 worth, her tenderness and affection in retired poverty, 
 compared with the gayeties and amusements of a fash- 
 ionable world. 
 
 " ' Just as if Mira Grandby would return again to the 
 dull monotony of a country life, and be happy with some 
 promising sprout of the bush. A fig for your preaching, 
 Lotty, I go for admiration and wealth.' 
 
 " And away she flew with a heart intoxicated with
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 233 
 
 the bright anticipations of the future. It was a glorious 
 evening, exquisite and lovely, although not half its 
 beauties could be seen or felt or appreciated by the 
 inhabitants of a crowded city. 
 
 " Neither could the bright glances of the silvery 
 moonbeams throw their light and charms over the broad 
 paved streets, unless riding high in the zenith ; and even 
 then had those mild rays found admittance into one of 
 the fashionable streets where ' Aunt Boston ' resided, 
 they would have been dimmed by the bright flood of 
 light which streamed far and wide through the richly 
 stained glass of her imposing mansion. 
 
 " Visitors, such as compose the elite of the city, were 
 thronging around its massive portals, and admitted in 
 princely style into the spacious halls and drawing-rooms 
 so gorgeously illuminated. 
 
 " Mira was there, the gayest of the gay ; and her cup 
 of bliss seemed wellnigh filled to overflowing. For on 
 this eve she was to become the bride of the distinguished 
 foreigner. 
 
 " Many were the congratulations bestowed upon the 
 fair and happy bride ; and she was indeed beautiful, as 
 she stood with a form erect, and of the most perfect 
 symmetry, before the hymenial altar, enveloped in the 
 rich folds of white satin, her clear white brow placid as a 
 summer's sky, and her full dark eye danced with witch- 
 ing and wild delight. 
 
 20*
 
 234 EFFIEAND I ; OR, 
 
 " Week after week passed away, and still the door 
 of the princely mansion, over which Mira presided, was 
 thrown open to admit the gay and fashionable votaries of 
 pleasure. Mira was happy, for her full heart drank in 
 all that it had fondly anticipated. 
 
 " She had never stopped to study the character, the 
 principles, or the demeanor of her companion ; for these 
 were out of the question, so long as flatterers and ad- 
 mirers gathered around her, and wealth strewed her 
 pathway with happiness almost unrivalled. 
 
 " But the honey -moon soon gained its zenith, and 
 then came the cold, cold waning ; for her health would 
 not admit of a continuance in the gayeties and amuse- 
 ments which she had so eagerly sought, although her 
 hushand continued them with all the ardor and fondness 
 of other days. 
 
 " His wife was not by his side, but what mattered 
 that ? there were others, as beautiful arid gay as herself, 
 to be his companion in the waltz and in many other 
 amusements of whole evenings, sometimes almost for- 
 getful of the wife at home. 
 
 " Frequently had he spent whole nights abroad, until 
 the morning's dawn ; and then, with flushed cheek and 
 unsteady step, would he return to the home of splendor, 
 where discontent and uncertainty sat brooding over the 
 enfeebled mind of his still beautiful wife. 
 
 " She was formed for admiration, and this cold neglect
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 235 
 
 from one who should have been most assiduous in his 
 attentions, was aggravating, in the extreme, to one whose 
 sole happiness consisted in the amusements and gayeties 
 of life, and the admiration and applause of men. 
 
 " Oft when alone, and that was not seldom, did Mira 
 wander through the spacious rooms of her splendid man- 
 sion, where art and genius of ancient and modern 
 designs had placed their choicest signets ; where 
 wealth and splendor seemed lavishingly to unfold their 
 treasures. 
 
 " Her eves would wander from one costly article 
 of furniture to another, or rest upon some rare, mag- 
 nificent decoration, and her heart would whisper, 
 ' they are mine,' but their beauty, their splendor and 
 magnificence, filled not the void within, but rather 
 seemed to mock the anguish of her lonely feelings. 
 
 " And then she would weep, even in the midst of 
 wealth and magnificence, w^iere she supposed that tears 
 and loneliness could never find an entrance. 
 
 " Sometimes she would look back upon the days of 
 her childhood, so peacefully and tranquilly spent in the 
 retirement of the country ; and then she would recaU to 
 mind the worthy youth she had slighted and scorned, 
 and her own just and merited retribution. 
 
 " Sometimes my friendly advice would flit across her 
 memory, but it only added sorrow to anguish, for she 
 had learned, by painful and bitter experience, that wealth
 
 236 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 is only a phantom when compared with the pure and 
 devoted love of a husband. 
 
 " Without it, although she was surrounded by every- 
 thing to please the eye and satisfy her vain aspirings, 
 she was miserable, unhappy, and unblest. Then came 
 . her hours of repentance, and a desire to live over again 
 the happiness of the past. 
 
 " Mir'a never again mingled with her former vanity 
 and fondness in the gay world", since she beheld her 
 husband in his true light ; fo x r, to her eye and to the 
 world, the true characteristics of his nature seemed fully 
 and fearfully developed. 
 
 "He was a spendthrift and gambler of the deepest 
 dye, accompanied by dissipated and dissolute habits, 
 which rendered it necessary to give up the splendid 
 establishment which he had obtained by fraud, rich and 
 costly furniture, magnificent carriages, all, all must go, 
 to screen him from justice. 
 
 " Then the guilty man left the wife of his bosom, the 
 son which should have been a father's pride and glory, 
 " and sought on a foreign shore the home of his nativity, 
 which he had disgraced and deserted in former years. 
 
 " Mira, with a broken heart and blighted anticipations, 
 sought, in the retired cottage of Esquire Grandby, an 
 asylum from the keen blasts of an unpitying, unfriendly 
 world, and a retreat from the cold, withering gaze of 
 those who had falsely styled themselves friends in the 
 days of her happiness and prosperity.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 237 
 
 " But her pride, her ambition, her vanity was sub- 
 
 
 
 dued to the very dust, and she returned a repentant, 
 though erring child to the home of her childhood. 
 
 " ' And this is Frank Deyton's cottage,' continued 
 Lotty, raising her beaming eyes with a proud expression 
 to mine, ' the boy of high resolves and the man of great 
 achievements. 
 
 " ' He left college with high honors, and his brow was 
 already wreathed with -the laurels of fame. He had 
 planted his standard on high ground, and it has never 
 been shaken nor deserted. 
 
 " ' He went forth into the broad vineyard of his 
 master with a firm, undaunted heart and willing hand, 
 and became a successful and faithful preacher of the 
 gospel. And I am his happy and honored wife,' she 
 said, as her eyes filled with the soft glittering dew-drops 
 of happiness which welled up from the sunny fountains 
 of her love-lighted heart. 
 
 " ' We often visit our native village,' she continued, 
 ' and Mira Grandby too, but no word of condolence or 
 encouragement can ever call her. back to life and hope ; 
 for her once buoyant heart is seared and broken, and the 
 soul, almost in the spring-tide of life and youth, is sub- 
 dued by affliction. 
 
 " ' She no longer seeks, with unguarded passion, the 
 wealth and honors of the world, nor the applause and 
 admiration of the gay and fashionable. And often, when
 
 238 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 she listens to the touching and deep-toned eloquence of 
 the handsome and dignified Frank Dayton, her heart 
 reproaches her for ever becoming a vain and heartless 
 votary of fashion.' ' 
 
 " ' Served her right, Lotty,' I said, ' for despising a 
 true heart, a factory girl, a cotton mill, and country 
 home ; because, forsooth, they did not have on a gilded 
 mask of buffoonery and hypocrisy and all that sort of 
 foolery. 
 
 '"I tell you what, Lotty, if the wife-hunters only 
 knew which side their bread had the butter on, they 
 would take an honest-hearted factory-girl to rule over 
 their little republic, instead of the fashionable apes, .and 
 popinjays, and would-be butterflies who flit here and 
 there and everywhere, for adulation and ease. 
 
 " ' The great wheel of a cotton mill turns out some 
 rare specimens of perfection in that line ; and, if I was a 
 man in search of a wife, I would travel further than 
 Jacob did for Rachel, and work harder too, to buy her ; 
 and then I should think I had got the best end of the 
 bargain. And I know that Frank Deyton will set his 
 seal to this truthful assertion,' "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 KATE ON AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION. SHE MAKES A DIS- 
 COVERY. HER SIGNS OF A GOOD HUSBAND. 
 
 rpHERE," said Kate, yawningly, " I have got 
 J- through with my stories at last, sentimentalism 
 and all. I like Lotty and Helen, hut the sentimental 
 and I are at sword's point. 
 
 " Why, I would no more marry a man that I thought 
 was spiced up with that sort of stuff, than I would marry 
 a Shampeaceso cannihal. I like good, substantial com- 
 mon sense, whether in man or beast ; hut the sentimental, 
 oh, I never could tune my harp of a thousand strings to 
 the vibration of those crotchets and quavers and solos, 
 and all that. Kate Stanton will never make her debut 
 into the ' world as it is,' to the time of any of that sort of 
 music; but what is this, Rosa?" she asked, draw- 
 ing rather ungraciously toward her a huge basket filled 
 with heavy brogans, upon which I had been employed 
 through her interesting recital. 
 
 " Is this the way you use those little delicate fingers 
 of yours' Rosa ? Why, I never thought they were fit for
 
 240 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 any thing but to write poetry, paint on velvet, thread a 
 shuttle, and tie a weaver's knot in that threefold cord 
 which is not easily broken. 
 
 " And I did not suppose that you was so much of an 
 abolitionist either, as to devote so much of your precious 
 time for the benefit of the understanding and soles of 
 those unfortunates who are held in durance vile, waiting 
 for the bow of promise to span their dark horizon." 
 
 " Don't, Kate, joke upon such serious subjects." 
 " Joke ? No, no Rosa ; when I get my ' World ' started, 
 I mean to snap some of their manacles, or man-knuckles, 
 and I shan't use a lather-brush, nor soft soap about it, 
 either. 
 
 " I intend to be Kate Stanton, out-and-out, in that 
 little globe of my own creating, to do and say just what 
 I please, or rather just what I think is right, and for the 
 best good of all concerned. 
 
 " I shan't sneak round any high places, nor low places, 
 nor dark places, nor ogre's dens, nor any other dens ; 
 but, like a streak of lightning, I shall go right through the 
 whole mass of hypocrisy, wrenching away the cowls, and 
 masks, and sheep-skins, and golden drapery from every 
 blackheart, and blackleg, and long-eared Neptunes,just 
 as easily as the lightning strips the trembling foliage 
 from a swaying sapling. 
 
 " I told you long ago that I was getting my lessons 
 for an up-start, and that I should take the whole ' World '
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 241 
 
 for a circuit too. I have got all through ' Lucy Stone,' 
 and am taking a degree a notch higher. 
 
 " But what's this ? " she said, continuing her ex- 
 ploring expedition to the bottom of my huge work- 
 basket. 
 
 "Poetizing, eh, Rosa? I declare, you mean to im- 
 mortalize your name, either by your philanthropy, or 
 poetical talents. Let me see, here is a poem of con- 
 dolence to the " Sable Slave," the " Soldier's Burial," 
 " The Happy Past," and " The Time to Pray." And 
 she went on reading, notwithstanding my earnest re- 
 monstrances to the contrary : 
 
 Oh, 'tis a time, sweet time to pray, 
 
 And steal away from earthly care, 
 When daylight softly fades away, 
 
 And no intruding voice comes near ; 
 For then the heart and soul combine 
 In truth, to worship God divine. 
 
 It is a sacred time to pray, 
 When chime the pealing Sabbath bells, 
 
 For then we cast earth's care away, 
 And in our hearts, devotion swells 
 
 To Him, who's kindly to us given 
 
 One day of sacred rest in heaven. 
 
 It is a time, fit time to pray, 
 
 When o'er our path the tempter steals, 
 With winning smile, to lead astray 
 From Him, who all our weakness feels ; 
 21
 
 242 EFFIB AND I j R y 
 
 For then the faithful prayer is sure 
 To give us strength, in grace secure. 
 
 It is a time in truth to pray, 
 And wake to life from slumbering deep, 
 
 When round us foes in dread array 
 Their dark, designing vigils keep ; 
 
 For then no evil can come near 
 
 The soul whose weapon^sure is prayer. 
 
 It is a holy time to pray, 
 When those we love are chill in death ; 
 
 When swift the soul passeth away 
 From the cold form devoid of breath ; 
 
 For then, by prayer and faith alone, 
 
 Submission to God's will we own. 
 
 It is a time e'en pure to pray, 
 
 When all of earth looks dark and drear, 
 
 When fortune's smiles are turned away, 
 And adverse clouds are hovering near ; 
 
 For prayer will give us strength indeed, 
 
 And grace sufficient in all need. 
 
 It is a time in youth to pray, 
 
 When hope and joy serenely flow ; 
 It is a time in age's decay, 
 
 In sickness, health, in weal and wo ; 
 And oh ! the heart's best time to pray 
 Is always, and unceasingly. 
 
 " Now, Rosa," said Kate, as she concluded a perusal 
 of the lines, " tell me what all this means.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 243 
 
 * 
 
 " A huge basket of brogans, heavy enough to tear 
 your vitals out, upon which you are working as though 
 your life depended upon an immediate accomplishment ; 
 and stowed away at the bottom, line after line, convulsed 
 with the very life-throes of a breaking heart. 
 
 " Rosa, has a few years of wedded life worn thread- 
 bare the dazzling brilliancy of your bridal robe ? 
 
 " Have the joys, which sprung up with your sunlight 
 of connubial bliss, been blasted by the withering mildew 
 blight of coldness and neglect ? 
 
 " Has Walter turned away from the priceless gem 
 of a true and faithful love for the glittering fascina- 
 tions " 
 
 " Oh, no, .no, dear Kate," I answered ; " you know 
 that my former bereavements have saddened my heart, 
 and I have laid two darling babes, in their infantile 
 beauty, to rest beneath the cold dark turf; and my heart 
 is sad and wellnigh broken by such heavy bereavements. 
 But Walter " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see how it is, Rosa ; a woman's heart 
 never dies, when her husband's love burns down, down, 
 into its inmost depths, bright and true as the magnet to 
 the pole, as the sunlight to the wave. 
 
 " When I see a woman whose heart is not all aglow 
 with life and hope and love, then I know that the true, 
 warm, life-giving rays of her husband's love are shrouded 
 in the dark clouds of neglect, or turned away to revel 
 amidst the more voluptuous folds of gaudier flowers.
 
 244 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 " You may as well confess to me, Rosa," she said, 
 with provoking pertinacity, " for I'll never budge an 
 inch until I know all the whys and wherefores of these 
 dying heart-throes." 
 
 " Kate, don't press me too hard," I said, as I laid 
 my head upon her friendly shoulder, and soothed the 
 agitations of my heart, and cooled the burning lava of 
 my brain by a flood of friendly tears. 
 
 " Rosa ! " whispered Kate, " I never told you before, 
 but I never did like Walter any better than I did Effie's 
 wicked Wilton. 
 
 " I think he's a perfect Behemoth, and how in the 
 world you could exchange good old No. 10 for only the 
 cipher (0) is more than I can imagine. 
 
 " Oh yes, he understands putting on airs well enough, 
 I know ; but it is just for the very reason that he is 
 composed of no more substantial substance than air 
 and foul at that. 
 
 " Well, now, the long and short of it is, that I shall 
 put a veto upon your wearing your life out over those 
 odious brogans, just for the sake of supplying him 
 with a little pocket-money for the benefit of his gaudy 
 flowers. 
 
 " And you must go back t<f the Spindle City, and 
 mingle once more amongst the scenes of your girlhood, 
 and forget or overcome the sorrows and neglect of these 
 few brief years.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 245 
 
 " Come, Rosa dear, make an effort to that effect ; and, 
 perhaps, the wholesome religious discipline and superior 
 advantages of that goodly city may induce him to re- 
 form. 
 
 " And although sister Sarah and her Green Mountain 
 boy have emigrated to a new field of labor in the far 
 West, yet there are many left who will remember him in 
 their prayers the ' next class night.' And perhaps ere 
 long he will return to you, as the prodigal son did to 
 his father, in rags it may be, but in penitence and 
 tears." 
 
 21*
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 ROSA BACK AGAIN TO THE SPINDLE CITY. 
 
 I WAS LONELY, very lonely, in that little, 
 strange, qut*of the way village. I missed my asso- 
 ciates, the old, familiar, and kindly faces which ever 
 wore for me a smile of friendly greeting. 
 
 I missed the Sabbath bell and the church where I 
 was wont to worship. 
 
 I missed the pearls and gems of inspiration which 
 fell from our pastor's lips, like a halo of living light upon 
 a rapt and listening assembly. 
 
 I missed the weekly class, where our faithful leader 
 pointed us encouragingly on, on and upward to the 
 victor's prize, the golden gates, the crowns, the palms, 
 the harps of gold, the angel band, the tree of life, the 
 blood-washed throng, who through much tribulation had 
 scaled the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem, and 
 gained a resting-place at last, to swell the loud an- 
 thems and hosannas to God and the Lamb for ever and 
 ever. 
 
 I missed the ingatherings of dimpled cheeks and 
 youthful faces to the Sabbath School.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 247 
 
 I missed the low murmurings and happy intonations 
 of childish voices, the chiming and blending of mellow 
 tones in the simple song. 
 
 I missed the sympathy of true hearts, and oh ! I 
 missed a motherly bosom to weep upon. Aye, weep out 
 my bitter heart-anguish. 
 
 And so I came back again. And oh ! how happy I 
 did feel, when the first night I laid my head upon my 
 own pillow in this Spindle City, and heard the old 
 familiar chimes of the factory bells, booming through the 
 air, with peal after peal of merry music. Yes, it was 
 music, and vibrated joyously upon the saddened tendrils 
 of my desolate heart. 
 
 I was back again ; yes, back again amidst the hurry 
 and bustle, the din and clatter, of this busy Spindle City. 
 Welcome smiles and kindly greetings met me on every 
 hand ; and once more my heart throbbed wildly with 
 the hopeful anticipations of a happy future. Alas ! how 
 transitory ! Walter's depraved mind led him naturally 
 enough to seek low employment and low associates. And 
 instead of going with the multitude to the house of God, 
 on the holy Sabbath, he sought the society of those who 
 congregated in low bar-rooms aud dens of infamy. 
 
 He spurned religion, and reviled its humble votaries 
 and the worshippers of a true and living God, and even 
 defied the just retribution pronounced upon the guilty 
 transgressors. His course was a downward one ; striv-
 
 248 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 ing even to drag me with him to the dark depths of 
 perdition. 
 
 But my faith, like the mariner's heavy anchor in the 
 storm-girt billow, was firmly fixed upon the God whom 
 my mother delighted to honor. 
 
 But why proceed ; a volume could not contain the 
 scenes of anguish through which I have struggled since 
 then, even if there was power in language for expression 
 
 and recital. 
 
 % 
 
 For none but the great Infinite can comprehend the 
 anguish of a deserted wife ; and, accompanied with that 
 desertion, the sufferings of cold and hunger, enfeebled 
 health, a broken heart, and the sick meanings of a suffer- 
 ing, dependent, and helpless child. 
 
 Greater woe can no man bring upon a true and faith- 
 ful wife than such cruel and heartless desertion. And 
 no greater retribution follows in the path of the trans- 
 gressor than that which, like the heavy mill-stone, grinds 
 to powder those who are guilty of such cruel desertion. 
 
 I know that retribution is poised fearfully over him 
 and his vile accomplices ; and when it falls, as fall it 
 must, their sufferings will be tenfold those which they 
 have wrought upon their innocent victims. 
 
 Kate Stanton says that he does not deserve even the 
 scratch of my pen; but she shall give him some black 
 marks in her " World," which will be a caution to all 
 truant husbands and deserters, their accomplices, Moll 
 Pitchers, and all.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 249 
 
 So here I am, Mrs. Allstone, notwithstanding all my 
 sufferings, desertions, and anguish. My heart seems 
 bound, as with a threefold cord, to the familiar scenes 
 and associations of other days. 
 
 Yes, this same Spindle City, which you so mercilessly 
 deprecate, is the only remaining link which binds me to 
 the happy past, the serene joys of my girlhood, and the 
 pleasant associations and vocations of the cotton mill. 
 
 And now, after repeating to you one more little poem 
 which I penned a few Sabbaths after my return to 
 Lowell, I will bid you adieu, hoping that you will never 
 find in your travels a more degraded or unsympathizing 
 people than those which compose the population of our 
 goodly Spindle City. 
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 
 
 How sweetly chimes the Sabbath bell 
 
 Upon the morning air, 
 As far o'er woodland, hill and dell, 
 
 It tells the hour of prayer ! 
 There's music in its varied tones 
 
 Of thrilling melody ; 
 Now floating high o'er towering domes, 
 
 Now fading far away. 
 
 Sweet messengers I love them well, 
 
 As softly on the ear 
 Those joyous peals in cadence swell, 
 
 Inviting up to prayer
 
 250 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 Where heart with heart, in love unite, 
 Where soul with soul combine, 
 
 In faith and hope, in truth and might, 
 To worship God divine. 
 
 Ho, all ye weary laden, come 
 
 This day's a rest for thee ; 
 Ye poor and needy, still there's room, 
 
 The feast is bounteous free. 
 Cast off the chains that gird thee now, 
 
 By tyrant's power debased, 
 Stand forth erect, for on thy brow 
 
 Is God's own image traced. 
 
 Oh, come then, enter at the door 
 
 That points the way to heaven ; 
 Where tyrants crushing power no more 
 
 Can bind the spirit riven. 
 The chime is pealing through the air, 
 
 O'er cot, and princely dome ; 
 Then hasten to the house of prayer, 
 
 For still, aye, still there's room.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 KATE STANTON'S CHRISTMAS. AUNT HEATHEETON'S LETTER. 
 EFFIE'S BRIDAL. CONCLUSION. 
 
 " A VERY, very merry Christmas, Rosa ! " said 
 -^^- Kate Stanton, as she bounded, in her wild, glee- 
 ful, rollicking way into my cheerless apartment, on that 
 glorious morn of all morns. " A merry Christmas. 
 
 " Good news from a friend, and glad tidings of great 
 joy, I bring you to-day. Here is a whole package of 
 what-not's, Rosa, from good olj} Aunt Heatherton, 
 who still presides with graceful dignity over her ancient 
 home at Willow Dale. 
 
 "She has often told me of Effie, 'dear Erne,' 
 as she calls her ; how. plump, and rosy, and handsome, and 
 happy she has grown. And little Charley, so wild, 
 gleeful, roguish, and loving withal ; and how indispensa- 
 ble they have become to her happiness, and of many 
 other things connected with Willow Dale and the old 
 Hall, she has kept me well informed. 
 
 " And I have answered back in my own wild, reckless, 
 gleeful way, just enough to keep her mind at ease with 
 the information that they had not yet caught me napping 
 in a lunatic asylum.
 
 252 EFFIE AND I| OR, 
 
 " Five years have passed away since I was a guest at 
 Heatherton Hall ; the autumn months were rapidly 
 drawing to a close, while the holidays loomed up in the 
 perspective with crowds of gay revellers, feasts, festi- 
 vals, and flirtations ; beaux, bridals, and bon-bons ; 
 cards, coaches, and carnivals ; candy, cakes, and cocoa- 
 nuts ; rows, riots, and rum ; and many other knick- 
 knacks to which poor human nature is subject to succumb 
 to. And I, poor old maid, a little weary with the 
 ' World,' sat me dreamily down before the glowing grate, 
 rocking to and fro, in the old arm-chair, which I had 
 always found indispensable in my hours of dreamy 
 abstraction. 
 
 " I had just drawn my little table to my side, and 
 opened the rose-woo^ box upon it, my aunt's parting 
 gift, in which were the sketches I had taken of my 
 eastern tour, when the bell gave a violent ' ding-dong, 
 ding-o-ling-ling,' and a moment after an attendant entered 
 my apartment with a huge package of letters, which she 
 deposited in a most gracious manner upon the sketches 
 I had opened for reperusal. 
 
 " Ha ! " I exclaimed, as my eye fell upon the post- 
 mark and superscription. " Good Aunt Heatherton has 
 stolen a march upon her mad-cap niece for once ; and 
 here is a whole bundle of happy wishes, Christmas tokens, 
 knick-knacks, and news generally. 
 
 " And now, Rosa, I have just brought it over for you
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 253 
 
 to read, and after that you can tuck it into one corner 
 of your ' Cotton Mill,' if you please. 
 
 " You will see that she has borrowed the stereotype, 
 which half the world claims by lawful possession, in 
 commencing with the indispensable " 
 
 " MY DEAR KATE, We are all astir here at Wil- 
 low Dale, and the old Hall has assumed a most regal 
 appearance in the shape of satins, laces, flowers, feathers, 
 and many other tit-bits, indispensable to a bridal outfit. 
 
 " Don't start, dear Kate, nor evaporate into a state of 
 annihilated nothingness ; nor burst through your basque 
 buttons, in your wild, harum-scarum mirthfulness. 
 
 " For your staid old aunt has no idea of exchanging 
 her single-blessedness for a life of matrimonial monopoly, 
 to any manoeuvring fortune-hunter, or moon-struck 
 mushroom, anywhere this side of the Shampeaceso or 
 Ahasuerus territories. Not a bit of it. But the fact 
 is, you remember I told you about old Judge Homer 
 peace to his ashes how he befriended Effie's parents, 
 and gave them Glen Cottage, when he took them away 
 from Esquire Stoneheart's. 
 
 " And you remember I told you that he had a son 
 who paid his devoirs to the adorable Angelica, and then 
 afterwards married a beautiful lady, an heiress, and 
 all that. 
 
 " Well, since his marriage, he has lived principally in 
 22
 
 254 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 a distant State, only now and then spending a few of the 
 summer months at the old homestead, till his beautiful 
 wife sickened and died, and then, with his two lovely 
 children, he removed to the home of his childhood, for 
 the sole purpose of cheering the declining days of his 
 mother. 
 
 " One year ago she died also, and left the old home 
 desolate to him and his babes. And then, with his 
 children, he began to take excursions and rides up to 
 Willow Dale ; and sometimes, he would stop at the old 
 Hall, just for his horse to take a breath or two, and his 
 children to get a glass of milk, or strawberries and 
 cream, or a bunch of flowers, or cherries and fruit. 
 
 " Sometimes he would let them run beneath the 
 willow tree with little Charley, who was sure to take 
 them all over Willow Dale, into the sheep-pastures, and 
 frog-ponds, and a score of other places, before the judge 
 could think his horse sufficiently rested for a homeward 
 trip. 
 
 " Sometimes he would indulge in the insane idea that 
 my dinners were the best in the world ; just, I always 
 thought, for a plausible excuse to prolong his visits at the 
 old Hall. 
 
 " And then, after dinner, he would wait for the sun to 
 go down a little, to make it pleasanter riding home with 
 the children. 
 
 " One day he began talking about foreign affairs, 
 annexations, South Culliria, and so on.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 255 
 
 " He said he thought Miss Cullina had better come 
 back to live with her sisters again, and be happy, and 
 sort o' respectable-like ; for he said that she belonged to 
 a very good family, a family that made quite a spec in 
 the world. 
 
 " ' Oh, no, no, no ! Mr. Homer,' I said, ' Miss Cullina 
 is a sort of an ailer or alien-crutter, and if she gets back 
 into the family again, will be likely to give the infection 
 of her terrible disease black scars and all to some 
 of her fair sisters. For they do say that her sickness 
 is wus a thousand times than the smallpox or black 
 vomit. Oh, no, no ! if Cullina has bound herself out 
 where she can learn to work, and take care of herself, 
 she had better stay where she is.' 
 
 " But he spoke very feelin'-like about Miss Cullina, 
 and said if she was a little wild, and apt to cut up a little, 
 that she was a beautiful creeture, and had a great heart, 
 for he had seen her, and felt her great heart-throbs when 
 he was sick and a stranger away from his own home ; 
 and how that she wouldn't take one picayune for all her 
 care and trouble, but laughed, and said that she would 
 do the same again for any of her sister's children, large 
 as the family was. 
 
 " I told him that she had taken a miff about a party, 
 or some such an affair, got up by Polly Ticks ; and just 
 because she could not lead off in the dance, and make all 
 of her sisters follow arter, that she flared right up, and 
 said that she would disown them all and her birth-right
 
 256 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 too, and would go right straight off into a ferrin land, 
 and take a house all to herself, and then she would see if 
 Polly Ticks would have any thing to do with her party. 
 
 "I have hearn.say that Polly Ticks is -a dreadful 
 hunsome crutter, and don't make much trouble nor 
 nothing, but she kinder wanted to carry the ' Bell ' in that 
 party, and so she and Miss Cullina had a little kick-up 
 all to themselves ; and the ferrin ministers and am- 
 bassadors stood a laughing, till they got a rail-splitter 
 to come and put a stop to it. Cullina kind o' sneaked 
 off, and Polly Ticks has not been able to get out since. 
 They say that that rail-splitter hurt her some. 
 
 " And I know if all the guns had balls in them that 
 they fired at her, that they must have hurt her dread- 
 fully. 
 
 " They say that that rail-splitter is a terrible critter 
 when he sets out, and the machine that he uses, is wus 
 than bomb-shells filled with horse-nails. 
 
 " He didn't seem to take much notice of what I was 
 saying, but continued, very innocently to be sure, * that 
 he liked domestic annexations, but was not much in favor 
 of foreign relations.' 
 
 " I looked at him rather suspiciously through the 
 points of my cap border, although I knew that he was a 
 judge, and the son of a judge, and ought to understand 
 these things. 
 
 " But he didn't seem to notice me at all, for, says he, 
 and I thought rather boldly too,
 
 SEVEN YEAKS IN A COTTON MILL. 257 
 
 " ' Aunt Heatherton I have been forming a plan of 
 annexation which suits me better than any discussed by 
 the public at the present time. 
 
 " ' I mean the annexation of widowhood to a state of 
 matrimony. What say you, Aunt Heatherton ? Are you 
 willing to make a peaceful resignation of Effie ? ' 
 
 " ' Effie ! ' (audacious !) but I didn't tell him so, for 
 he is one of nature's noblemen, and the most perfect 
 specimen of humanity that you ever saw. 
 
 " But I sprang .to my feet, and you may know it 
 didn't take long, right before him, and says I, ' Judge 
 Homer, you may take your pick out of my best yearlings, 
 or my ducks, or chickens, or turkeys, or geese, or you 
 may have the pigs that Charley has fatted from my 
 
 cream-cans and pea-beds, but ,' and I stopped a 
 
 moment to get breath enough to give the words a mean- 
 ing emphasis, but Effie, never ! ' Why, Judge Homer,' 
 I continued, ' didn't you know that I took Effie home here 
 when she hadn't a friend in the world, nor a shelter either, 
 but the cypress trees which shade the graves of her 
 kindred ? * 
 
 " And I said, ' now, Effie, this shall be thy home and 
 my home, and as much thine as mine, and little 
 Charley's too. And now they have become as indis- 
 pensable to my happiness as the home itself, or the 
 flowers, or the songs of the summer birds, or the gor- 
 geous sunbeams. 
 
 22*
 
 258 EFFIE AND I ; OR, 
 
 " ' And you would take them away from me, and 
 make my heart and home desolate again. 
 
 u ' When her wicked husband died, three years ago, I 
 thought nobody had a right to claim her ; and so I kept 
 loving her more and more, and I knew that she was 
 happy, and . Oh, no ; I don't believe in annex- 
 ations at all, Judge Homer. Cullina is well enough 
 where she is, and so is Effie.' 
 
 " The judge looked as though he would rather avoid a 
 battle if he could, although I could |>ee that he was de- 
 termined upon the annexation, even if he had to storm 
 the whole fortification. 
 
 " I knew that I couldn't count as many men as he 
 could, and so I thought it would be better to compromise a 
 little, even if he did annex a part of my domains to his 
 own territory. 
 
 " Effie came in just then, looking very demure and 
 very happy, and I went out. 
 
 " Somehow, the corners of my apron became a nec- 
 essary appendage to my eyes the rest of the afternoon ; 
 and after that I let things take their own way, only I 
 said, ' If it must be so, that the wedding should be cele- 
 brated at the Hall.' 
 
 " And they all said, ' Yes, it should be as Aunt 
 Heatherton said about that part of the arrangement.' 
 
 " You can't imagine what a pyramid of finery, and it 
 isn't finery either, but rich, substantial fixings, he has 
 already crowded upon her acceptance, for her bridal gear.
 
 SEVEN YEARS IN A COTTON MILL. 259 
 
 " And I, determined not to be outdone, am making 
 arrangements for one of the most brilliant feats that has 
 ever been witnessed at Willow Dale. 
 
 " I know that the sun of prosperity has now 'risen 
 upon Effie's life-path ; the clouds have all disappeared, 
 and she will find safety and happiness in the heart and 
 home of him who now proffers to her his faithful love 
 and protection. 
 
 " Charley is very happy, too, that he is going to have 
 a darling brother and sister and a dear papa. 
 
 " But he says, ' that he shall come to the Hall, oh, so 
 often, to see aunty dear ; and he shall take her down to 
 mamma's other home ; and when he gets to be a man, 
 he will come and live at the Hall with his sister, to take 
 care of the things and aunty too.' 
 
 " Glen Cottage is just now without an occupant ; for 
 she, who so inhumanly thrust Effie and her babe out 
 upon the cold mercies of the world, is herself widowed 
 and penniless, and obliged to seek the aid which she so 
 tauntingly proposed to her in her hours of bitter need 
 and desertion. 
 
 " Judge Homer says, ' that he shall purchase Glen 
 Cottage for a present to his Effie, and she may fit it up, 
 as her own taste shall dictate, for a widow and orphans' 
 home.' 
 
 " Effie is very happy and very grateful ; and she 
 says,, ' there is not another man in all the world so good 
 and noble as Judge Homer.'
 
 260 EFFIE AND I. 
 
 " You recollect I told you that Angelica Stoneheart 
 had married, and removed to a distant city. Her 
 husband proved to be not only a fortune-hunter, but a 
 reckless spendthrift. 
 
 " And so, after a few years of miserable suffering 
 abroad, she has returned a poor, faded, forlorn creature, 
 to her widowed and almost penniless mother, to die or 
 suffer still more from the griping hand of poverty, which 
 is laid heavily and surely upon them. 
 
 " For when her father, Esquire Stoneheart, died, it 
 was proved that his claims to wealth were utterly null 
 and void. 
 
 " So you see that the tables turn, once in a while, 
 without the artificial aid of rapping mediums. And that 
 moneyed wealth is not a sure foundation upon which to 
 build the pyramids of hope and happiness, nor even of 
 true greatness. Neither is poverty the handmaid of 
 vice and degradation, but often the stepping-stone to 
 honor and genuine nobility." 
 
 " Just tell them, Rosa, before you give your manu- 
 script to good old Mr. Finis, that Kate Stanton's 
 ' World as it is ' will soon be in motion, and will follow 
 at a respectful distance your ' Cotton Mill.' Then, 
 Rosa, won't I give it a jog the right way ? " 
 
 To be answered in our next.
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 
 
 I'M thinking now of thee, mother ; 
 
 I'm thinking now of thee, 
 And of our low-roofed cottage home, 
 
 Beside the old oak-tree, 
 As erst it stood of yore, mother, 
 
 Ere death had entered there, 
 To take the choicest flower away, 
 
 That bloomed beneath thy care. 
 
 I'm thinking how thy cheek, mother, 
 
 Grew paler, day by day ; 
 How fearful, too, thy tearless grief 
 
 When sister passed away. 
 She was the first loved child, mother, 
 
 Of a merry, happy band ; 
 The first with autumn flowers, away 
 
 She passed to the spirit-land. 
 
 I'm thinking of the night, mother, 
 
 When thou wert dying too ; 
 We dreamed not when sweet sister died, 
 
 Thou wert the next to go. 
 In grief I pressed thy cold white lips, 
 
 Which gave me back no kiss, 
 And thought my heart was breaking then, 
 
 For I was motherless. 
 
 Then how we wept for thee, mother, 
 Through many a weary day ; 
 
 Our home was drear and desolate 
 Our brothers far away
 
 274 
 
 But ere a twelvemonth passed, mother, 
 That we had mourned for thee 
 
 One died within a stranger's home, 
 Another on the sea. 
 
 Then how I wished ('twas wrong, mother), 
 
 That I was with the dead 
 For hope's bright visions charmed no more < 
 
 My life's sweet dreams had fled ; 
 For Cairo grew so pale, mother, 
 
 So lustrous bright her eye 
 The oldest that was left us then 
 
 We knew she, too, must die. 
 
 And so one winter's day, mother, 
 
 She plumed her pinions free, 
 And soared from earth away, away, 
 
 To join her songs with thee. 
 And then our father died, mother, 
 
 And the last loved brother too, 
 And I felt that God was hard indeed, 
 
 To shroud our life's morn so. 
 
 And then our Lula dear, mother, 
 
 "With the dark and brilliant eye, 
 And the gentle, blue-eyed sister mate, 
 
 Were the next and last to die. 
 They are all in heaven now, mother, 
 
 They are all in heaven with thee 
 Save sister Mary, who alone 
 
 Remains to weep with me. 
 
 I have felt my share of grief, mother, 
 
 And there's little left of joy, 
 Save the treasure that I cherish now 
 
 My laughing, blue-eyed boy. 
 My tears are flowing fast, mother, 
 
 My heart is throbbing wild, 
 For there are none- to love me so 
 
 As erst you loved your child.
 
 275 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF SISTER LULA. 
 
 SISTER, farewell, the last fond tie is riven, 
 
 Which linked thy guileless heart with things of earth ; 
 
 And now thy spirit long since winged for heaven, 
 Has claimed with sainted ones a heavenly birth. 
 
 Sister, farewell, thy loved form sweetly slumbers 
 Beneath the verdant turf of beauteous Spring, 
 
 Where songsters breathe their wild melodious numbers, 
 And 'neath their shades a requiem for thee sing. 
 
 Sister, sleep on : I would not wake to sorrow 
 
 Thy pure and sainted spirit from its rest, 
 I would not e'en a blissful moment borrow 
 
 From thee, enrobed in glory with the blest. 
 
 But I would chant with thee in living bowers 
 
 The lofty anthems of thy spirit-land ; 
 And roam with thee 'mongst fair ambrosial flowers 
 
 Where youth and beauty feel no withering hand. 
 
 Sleep on in peace, this heart with anguish riven, 
 No more can greet thee whom I loved so well ; 
 
 'Till I have gained thy far-off blissful haven, 
 'Till then, sweet sister, loved one, fare thee well.
 
 276 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S BURIAL. 
 
 FAR away from his home in his manhood's bloom, 
 They bear him all silently to the tomb ; 
 Where the wild-flowers blush, and the zephyrs chime 
 His requiem plaints in a southern clime. 
 
 Oh, sadly the tones on the soft air come, 
 Of the mournful fife, and the muffled drum ; 
 But sadder the hearts of that gallant band 
 That bear him to rest in a stranger's land. 
 
 His shroud is the banner he proudly bore 
 From his childhood's home and his native shore, 
 While far o'er the woodlands, and hill-tops, and dells, 
 The parting salute of his brave clan swells. 
 
 They have gone all gone, those warriors brave, 
 With measured step from his lonely grave ; 
 But the tear-drops are sparkling they sorrowing shed, 
 Like pearls in night's drapery, 'circling his bed. 
 
 The willows, like sad hearts, o'er broken hopes bend 
 Their shadows with those of the dark cypress blend ; 
 With their soft sighing voices, and wide, solemn wave, 
 They guard, by sweet vigil, the soldier's lone grave.
 
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