Mind Amongst the Spindles Part 18

A year pa.s.sed by, and our Harriet was a totally changed being, in intellect and deportment. Her cousins boarded in a small family, that they might have a better opportunity of pursuing their studies during their leisure hours. She was their constant companion. At first she did not open a book; and numberless were the roguish artifices she employed to divert the attention of her cousins from theirs. They often laid them aside for a lively chat with her; and then urged her to study with them. She loved them ardently. To her affection she at last yielded, and not to any antic.i.p.ations of pleasure or profit in the results, for she had been _educated_ to believe that there was none of either.

Charles had been studying Latin and mathematics; Jane, botany, geology, and geography of the heavens. She instructed Charles in these latter sciences; he initiated her as well as he might, into the mysteries of _hic, haec, hoc_, and algebra. At times of recitation, Harriet sat and laughed at their "queer words." When she accompanied them in their search for flowers, she amused herself by bringing mullen, yarrow, and, in one instance, a huge sunflower.--When they had traced constellations, she repeated to them a satire on star-gazers, which she learned of her father.

The _histories_ of the constellations and flowers first arrested her attention, and kindled a romance which had hitherto lain dormant. A new light was in her eye from that hour, and a new charm in her whole deportment. She commenced study under very discouraging circ.u.mstances.

Of this she was deeply sensible. She often shed a few tears as she thought of her utter ignorance, then dashed them off, and studied with renewed diligence and success. She studied two hours every morning before commencing labor and until half past eleven at night. She took her book and her dinner to the mill, that she might have the whole intermission for study. This short season, with the reflection she gave during the afternoon, was sufficient for the mastery of a hard lesson.

She was close in her attendance at the sanctuary. She joined a Bible cla.s.s; and the teachings there fell with a sanctifying influence on her spirit, subduing but not destroying its vivacity, and opening a new current to her thoughts and affections. Although tears of regret for misspent years often stole down her cheeks, she a.s.sured Jane that she was happier at the moment than in her hours of loudest mirth.

Her letters to her friends had prepared them for a change, but not for _such_ a change--so great and so happy. She was now a very beautiful girl, easy and graceful in her manners, soft and gentle in her conversation, and evidently conscious of her superiority, only to feel more humble, more grateful to Heaven, her dear cousins, her minister, her Sabbath school teacher, and other beloved friends, who by their kindness had opened such new and delightful springs of feeling in her heart.

She flung her arms around her mother's neck, and wept tears of grat.i.tude and love. Mrs. Greenough felt that she was no longer alone in the world; and Mr. Greenough, as he watched them--the wife and the daughter--inwardly acknowledged that there was that in the world dearer to his heart than his farm and his independence.

Amongst Harriet's baggage was a rough deal box. This was first opened.

It contained her books, a few minerals and sh.e.l.ls. There were fifty well-selected volumes, besides a package of gifts for her father, mother, and brother.--There was no book-case in the house; and the kitchen shelf was full of old almanacs, school books, sermons, and jest books. Mr. Greenough rode to the village, and returned with a rich secretary, capacious enough for books, minerals, and sh.e.l.ls. He brought the intelligence, too, that a large party of students and others were to spend the evening with them. Harriet's heart beat quick, as she thought of young Curtis, and wondered if he was among the said students.--Before she left Bradford, struck with the beauty and simplicity of her appearance, he sought and obtained an introduction to her, but left her side, after sundry ineffectual attempts to draw her into conversation, disappointed and disgusted. He _was_ among Harriet's visitors.

"Pray, Miss Curtis, what may be your opinion of our belle, Miss Greenough?" asked young Lane, on the following morning, as Mr. Curtis and his sister entered the hall of the academy.

"Why, I think that her improvement has been astonishingly rapid during the past year; and that she is now a really charming girl."

"Has she interfered with your heart, Lane?" asked his chum.

"As to that, I do not feel entirely decided. I think I shall renew my call, however--nay, do not frown, Curtis; I was about to add, if it be only to taste her father's delicious melons, pears, plums, and apples."

Curtis blushed slightly, bowed, and pa.s.sed on to the school room. He soon proved that he cared much less for Mr. Greenough's fruit than for his daughter: for the fruit remained untasted if Harriet was at his side. He was never so happy as when Mr. Greenough announced his purpose of sending Harriet to the academy two or three years. Arrangements were made accordingly, and the week before Charles left home for college, she was duly installed in his father's family.

She missed him much; but the loss of his society was partially counterbalanced by frequent and brotherly letters from him, and by weekly visits to her home, which by the way, is becoming quite a paradise under her supervision.--She has been studying painting and drawing. Several well-executed specimens of each adorn the walls and tables of their sitting-room and parlor. She has no "regular built"

centre-table, but in lieu thereof she has removed from the garret an old round table that belonged to her grandmother. This she has placed in the centre of the sitting-room; and what with its very pretty covering (which falls so near the floor as to conceal its uncouth legs), and its books, it forms no mean item of elegance and convenience.

Mr. Greenough and his help have improved a few leisure days in removing the trees that entirely concealed the Merrimac. By the profits resulting from their sale, he has built a neat and tasteful enclosure for his house and garden. This autumn shade-trees and shrubbery are to be removed to the yard, and fruit-trees and vines to the garden. Next winter a summer-house is to be put in readiness for erection in the spring.

All this, and much more, Mr. Greenough is confident he can accomplish, without neglecting his _necessary_ labors, or the course of reading he has marked out, "by and with the advice" of his wife and Harriet. And more, and better still, he has decided that his son George shall attend school, at least two terms yearly. He will board at home, and will be accompanied by his cousin Charles, whom Mr. Greenough has offered to board gratis, until his education is completed. By this generosity on the part of her uncle, Jane will be enabled to defray other expenses incidental to Charles's education, and still have leisure for literary pursuits.

Most truly might Mr. Greenough say,--

"The day is come I never thought to see, Strange revolutions in my farm and me."

A.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Decoration]

FANCY.

O Swiftly flies the shuttle now, Swift as an arrow from the bow: But swifter than the thread is wrought, Is soon the flight of busy thought; For Fancy leaves the mill behind, And seeks some novel scenes to find.

And now away she quickly hies-- O'er hill and dale the truant flies.

Stop, silly maid! where dost thou go?

Thy road may be a road of woe: Some hand may crush thy fairy form, And chill thy heart so lately warm.

"Oh no," she cries in merry tone, "I go to lands before unknown; I go in scenes of bliss to dwell, Where ne'er is heard a factory bell."

Away she went; and soon I saw, That Fancy's wish was Fancy's law; For where the leafless trees were seen, And Fancy wished them to be green, Her wish she scarcely had made known, Before green leaves were on them grown.

She spake--and there appear'd in view, Bright manly youths, and maidens, too.

And Fancy called for music rare-- And music filled the ravished air.

And then the dances soon began, And through the mazes lightly ran The footsteps of the fair and gay-- For this was Fancy's festal day.

On, on they move, a lovely group!

Their faces beam with joy and hope; Nor dream they of a danger nigh, Beneath their bright and sunny sky.

One of the fair ones is their queen, For whom they raise a throne of green; And Fancy weaves a garland now, To place upon the maiden's brow; And fragrant are the blooming flowers, In her enchanted fairy-bowers.

And Fancy now away may slip, And o'er the green-sward lightly skip, And to her airy castle hie-- For Fancy hath a castle nigh.

The festal board she quick prepares, And every guest the bounty shares,-- And seated at the festal board, Their merry voices now are heard, As each youth places to his lips, And from the golden goblet sips A draught of the enchanting wine That came from Fancy's fruitful vine.

But hark! what sound salutes mine ear?

A distant rumbling now I hear.

Ah, Fancy! 'tis no groundless fear, The rushing whirlwind draweth near!

Thy castle walls are rocking fast,-- The glory of thy feast is past; Thy guests are now beneath the wave,-- Oblivion is their early grave, Thy fairy bower has vanished--fled: Thy leafy tree are withered--dead!

Thy lawn is now a barren heath, Thy bright-eyed maids are cold in death!

Those manly youth that were so gay, Have vanished in the self-same way!

Oh Fancy! now remain at home, And be content no more to roam; For visions such as thine are vain, And bring but discontent and pain.

Remember, in thy giddy whirl, That _I_ am but a factory girl: And be content at home to dwell, Though governed by a "factory bell."

FIDUCIA.

THE WIDOW'S SON.

Among the mult.i.tudes of females employed in our manufacturing establishments, persons are frequently to be met with, whose lives are interspersed with incidents of an interesting and even thrilling character. But seldom have I met with a person who has manifested so deep devotion, such uniform cheerfulness, and withal so determined a perseverance in the accomplishment of a cherished object, as Mrs. Jones.

This inestimable lady was reared in the midst of affluence, and was early married to the object of her heart's affection. A son was given them, a sweet and lovely boy. With much joy they watched the development of his young mind, especially as he early manifested a deep devotional feeling, which was cultivated with the most a.s.siduous attention.

But happiness like this may not always continue. Reverses came. That faithful husband and affectionate father was laid on a bed of languishing. Still he trusted in G.o.d; and when he felt that the time of his departure approached, he raised his eyes, and exclaimed, "Holy Father! Thou hast promised to be the widow's G.o.d and judge, and a Father to the fatherless; into Thy care I commit my beloved wife and child.

Keep Thou them from evil, as they travel life's uneven journey. May their service be acceptable in thy sight." He then quietly fell asleep.

Bitter indeed were the tears shed over his grave by that lone widow and her orphan boy; yet they mourned not as those who mourn without hope.

Instead of devoting her time to unavailing sorrow, Mrs. Jones turned her attention to the education of her son, who was then in his tenth year.

Finding herself in reduced circ.u.mstances, she n.o.bly resolved to support her family by her own exertions, and keep her son at school. With this object, she procured plain needle-work, by which, with much economy, she was enabled to live very comfortably, until Samuel had availed himself of all the advantages presented him by the common schools and high school. He was then ready to enter college--but how were the necessary funds to be raised to defray his expenses?

This was not a new question to Mrs. Jones. She had pondered it long and deeply, and decided upon her course; yet she had not mentioned it to her son, lest it should divert his mind from his studies. But as the time now rapidly approached when she was to carry her plan into operation, she deemed it proper to acquaint Samuel with the whole scheme.

As they were alone in their neat little parlor, she aroused him from a fit of abstraction, by saying, "Samuel, my dear son, before your father died we solemnly consecrated you to the service of the Lord; and that you might be the better prepared to labor in the gospel vineyard, your father designed to give you a liberal education. He was called home; yet through the goodness of our Heavenly Father, I have been enabled thus far to prosecute his plan. It is now time for you to enter college, and in order to raise the necessary funds, I have resolved to sell my little stock of property, and engage as an operative in a factory."

At this moment, neighbor Hall, an old-fashioned, good-natured sort of a man, entered very unceremoniously, and having heard the last sentence, replied: "Ah! widow, you know that I do not like the plan of bringing up our boys in idleness. But then Samuel is such a good boy, and so fond of reading, that I think it a vast pity if he cannot read all the books in the state. Yes, send him to college, widow; there he will have reading to his heart's content. You know there is a gratuity provided for the education of indigent and pious young men."

"Yes," said Mrs. Jones, "I know it; but I am resolved that if my son ever obtains a place among the servants of the Prince of Peace, he shall stand forth unchained by the bondage of men, and n.o.bly exert the energies of his mind as the Lord's freeman."