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THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE: WASHINGTON, D. 0., THURSDAY, JANUARY 18, 1883.
An Artist a Model a Sewing-Girl,
aiu! a Wcdflag.
ly Addaide Martmm.
Oft a. certain afternoon, in the month, of Sep
t&nbex. Mr. Hamilton Earle might have been
discovered, seated before an easel, in an attitude
oppressive of the deepest dejection. The half
finished picture in front of him seemed to have
filled the artist with nothing hut utter disgust.
Perfectly mot ionic ho sat there, his elbows
justing on his knees, and his head buried in his
Itanda. So btiil ana quiet was he, that he did
not at first hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
They were heavy, manly footsteps, hut they
moved leisurely, and a gay voice beguiled the
"way by warbling a eacerful and enlivening air:
" Bob up serenely." The singer apparently was
m!f-way up now. "Bob up serenely."' lie
placed his foot on the la&t step. " 13ob up se
xanel from belowJ,' he finished, as he pushed
the door open, without taking tho trouble of
knocking, and puuscd on the threshold.
"Hallo! " he maculated, as he caught sight of
ike artist. " Got 'em again. 1 see ! Well, that's
tko way with geniuses and artists, I fcupposo.
"Up in the clouoa one day, down in the depths
the next. Now, I was never known to have
the blues; and that's the only thing which con
soles me for not having been born a genius."
He had entered the room now, and catching
Bight of the picture, he surveyed it for 6ome
time with a critical eye. Both hands were
iHrast deeply into his pockets, and he whistled,
in an undertone, the same cheerful air with
-which, he had enlivened his up waid journey to
"Well, now, I would really liko to know
what's the matter with that picture." he re
marked, drily, ;.i lasi. "In my humble opin
ion, it's good it's first-rate. By Jove! Earle.
that dog's about the best thing I ever saw' in
jay life. He's got 6uch an awfully knowing
look in his eye."
Tho artist raLed his head at this. "Do you
xoally mean it, Jw k?" he said, nuxiously. " Do
you really think that thing is good ': '
u It's capital ; one of the best things you have
The artist slowly arose, anil came around to
Jiis friend's side. They look 1 at the picture
for some time in silence. At last Earle sp-ike.
" You know what it is intended to illustrate?"
"he asked, interrogatively.
" Of course." Kiid Jack. "That picco "Morris
recited so well the other night 'We're two
travelers, Boger and 1. Roger's roy dog,' etc
Ami by Jove! you've got Roger to perfectioa.
But why have youput them out in the road?
Shouldn't they have been in some kind of a
tavern or saloon ?"'
For reply, Earlo picked up a book which was
lying, face downwards, on a chair, and read tho
"I have seen her ! Once. T was weak and spent ;
On the dusty road a carriage stopped ;
Sot little she dreamed, as on she went.
Who kissed the eoiu that tier lingers dropped."
He put down the book, and said: "That is
what 1 want to paiutJack. 1 want the expres
sion on the face of my vagabond, just alter his
lost love has passed by. 1 want his look, just
"bofore he 'kissed the coin that her fiugers
dropped.' I know what the look should be,
too. I can see it here." tapping his forohead,
"plainly enough, hut I cannot get it, try as
lard as I may. Look at that old tramp!" he
added, contemptously. " No more expression
5n his face than there is in a gatc-posO. It's
enough to give any man the blues!" And the
artist began to st i ide up and dowa. tho room in
a distracted manner.
" Why, I don't think it's so had now," said
Jack, putting his head on one side, in a critical
Earle paid no attention to thi3,but continued
to walk back and forth. At last ho suddenly
paused before Jack and asked : "Who was the
young fellow that sat nest you at tho theatre
the other night V"
"Why, how should I know who sat next
mo?" said Jack, in astonishment.
"But you do know?" cried Earle, impa
tiently. "I saw yon talking to him. 'Twas
the night Clara Morris played. Ho was a
young lellow, with a sensitive face. Was won.
dorfully affected by the play. Don't you re
member?" "Oh, yes, I do recollect now," Baid Jack.
"That was young Sherwin."
"Well, who is 'young Sherwin pray?"
Jack removed several paint -rags and a hit of
yellow drapery from an antique chair, and
seated himself before he answered.
" Young Sherwin," he said, preparing to light
a cigar, " is a fellow whom I met over in (it r
naany. To the world in general ho is known
as Tneodore W. Sherwin. of Sherwintown, Con
necticut, only son and heir of the late Theo
dore W. Sherwin, solo proprietor of the Sherwin
Iron Works, and currently reported to be worth
several millions. To the privileged few, likj
myself, who are at all intimate with him, he is
known as one of the oddest mortals who ever
turned up in this benighted city."
"Confound it!" cried Earle, with a disap
pointed look. "That spoils everything."
"What is tho matter now?" asked Jack.
"What do you mean? What spoils every
thing?" "Why, I wanted the young fellow for a
model," answered Earle. "But 1 shall never
dare approach such a bloated young aristocrat."
"Oh, if that's all," said Jack, "I'll bring him
around to-morrow. Nothing would please him
better. He's an odd fish, I tell you. Crazy
over art, and music, and everything like that.
He's never been to college; but got his educa
tion traveling with an old piofcseor. Ho is
without 'kith or kin,' as they say. Ho has
come uj) to try city life; and I'm keeping him
from falling into the hands of tho Philistines.
I like the young fellow hugely. One would
never imagine he had a cent, from the way he
talks and acts sometimes. Yet he is generous
to a fault. I'll bring him around and intro
duce vou. What do you want him for, any
way?" j "I want him for my vagabond," said Earle.
" Your vagalKHid ? " cried Jack, in amazement.
"That handsome young fellow? What do you
" I ipean that he has one of tho most sen
sitive and expressive faees I ever beheld,"
returned Earle, " I saw on it, the other night,
for just one moment, the very identical look
that I want to paint. You bring him around
ta-morrow morning, and I will show yon a
transformation that will astonish vou."
"I'll do it," said Jack, emphatically. "I'll
do it; that is, if he hasn't an engagement, and
I don't believe he hs. I must tear myself
away now ; but 7ou can confidently expect mo
to-morrow morning between ten and eleven,"
and Jack departed, leaving a cloud of smoke
He kept his promise, for a wonder. Tho next
Morning, at exactly eleven, Sir. John lloliuea,
universally known among all his friends as
"Jack," and Mr. Theodore W. Sherwin, of Sher
wintowu, Connecticut, presented thcnibelveb at
the studio of "Hamiiton Earle, artist," and tho
usual introductions followed. Young Mr. Sher
win was in the best of spirits. He evidently
regarded the whole affair in the light of an ad
venture. Ho admired the studio, praised
everything it contained, and expressed his
r willingness to be at once transformed
Into a vagabond. Both he and Jack had con
siderable curiosity as to how this change was to
"Come into my bed-room, and I'll show
you," said Earle. " I have everything ready."
Tho two young men disappeared, while Jack
roamed around the studio, bringing to light
various discarded sketches, whicli were de
posited in dark corners of the room. Presently
jJarle pushed aside tho heavy curtains which
separated the two apartments. The vagabond
totlored out. " Pity the sorrows of a poor old
man," he quoted. Jack stared, with open
mouthed wonder. Was tliat ragged individual,
In the weather-stained garments that care
worn old man, with deeply-lined face and iron
gray hair, the bright, handsome young fellow
who had left tho room a few moments before ?
"How did you do it? It is simply wonder
ful I " he cried.
"I only," answered Earle, "deepened tho
bhadows under 1 he eyes; strengthened the lines
of the face; added a few wrinkles; sprinkled a
little powder on the hair; crowned the whole
with a battered old hat; and behold the
"Well, I never wonld have rccognbxd him,"
eaid Jack, emphatically.
" I dou't wouder," said the transformed vaga
bond. " I didn't know ruyeelf when 1 looked
in tho glass. Shall I pose now ? " to Earle. " I
bib quite ready to begin, and I am awfully
anxious to soe you paint. I never saw an artist
"Tf you're going to begin, I shall take myself
off," paid Jack. 'Adieu, my venerable friend,''
continued he, addressing Sherwin. ' I'll leave
you to the tender mercies of this child of
genius, though if you don't find posing remark
ably liard work, I'm no prophet." With which
consoling remark Jack look his departure, and
they heard him warbling all tho way down
stair?, as was his ctiPtoin, announcing, in a
cracked tenor voice, that he was: "An every
day young man, a matter-of-fact young man,"
Mr. Hamilton Earle and Mr. Theodore W.
1 Sherwin soon became the verv best of friends.
The young fellow made a patient, and, there
fore, excellent model. The outlines of his face
wero sketched in readily enough; but the fin
ishing touches had to be postponed again and
again, bceauso tho right expression was lack
ing. Earle spent much time with his now model,
even accompanying him to tho theatre, to hear
the same drama that was played on the night
he had first noticed his face. But all in vain.
The peculiar expression that the artist had re
marked on that ono occasion never reappeared.
One afternoon Sherwin was posing as the
vagabond, while Earle tried to work on the
picture; in despair, almost, of ever getting the
look he wanted. Presently, light, owift foot
step? wero heard ascending the :-tairs.
" You are going to have a lady visitor," re
marked the model. " I can tell by the sound."
Earle turned suddenly, dropping his maul
stick. "By Jove!" ho cried, " it's Sweetest
Eyes, and I have forgotten all about the ap
pointment!" Just as he finished speaking there was a
slight knock on tho half-open door, and then
it was pushed back, and a young lady stood on
The vagabond glanced up, and then squared
around and stared in a truly remarkable mau
ner,consideriug his years and disreputable ap
pearance. The young lady in the doorway wao
well worth looking at, however.
Such a perfect figure, such a pink-and-white
complexion, such alittie rosebud of a mouth,
such masses of rich golden hair; but. above all,
such wonderful violet eyes; deep, unfathom
able eyes, with a world of expression in their
dreamy depths, were not to be met with every
day. She stood there, framed in tho doorway,
gazing at the-pieluro with clasped hands, quite
unconscious of anv observation.
" Oh ! Mr. Earle, that is splendid ! " she ex
claimed, at last. Then she entered tho room,
and for the first timo observed the model. Sho
giivo a littlo start, while a look of pity came
into those lovely eyes. "Poor old man," she
murmured under her breath as she cros.-.cd tho
"Mr., Earle," said she, in a low, sweet voice,
"lhavo come to tell you that I cannot sit to
day. My mother is ill."
Earlo looked immensely relieved. " Very
well," ho replied, hurriedly. " I can easily ex
cuse you to-day. Do yon think you can come
again on next Monday atternoon?"
" Yes! if my mother is better," she replied.
"All right. I'll he ready for you," rejoined
the artist, turning once more to his work. Sho
stood aid watched him for a moment, then,
with a " pleasant " good-morning," sho started
to leave the room. She was obliged to pass the
inodel in order to make her' exit. Sho hastily
thrust her hand into her pocket, as she ap
proached him. Ho looked up, and encountered
a glance from those wonderful eyes, a glance full
of infinite pity and compassion. As she brushed
quickly by, something dropped suddenly into
his half-opened hand ; and before ho could turn
his head, she had vanished.
The artist heard a little inarticulate sound
behind him, and glanced around.
" By Jove ! There it is now ! ' he exclaimed,
with great excitement. "For heaven's sake,
Sherwin. don't move ! Don't dare to move asin
git, xmisclj! If you can only keep that expres
sion for ten minutes, my fortuno is made ! "
He began to pain!, with frantic ha-le. It
seemed hour', to the model before he finally
paused and dropped his palette and brushes.
" There ! " he cried, " I have it at last ! 1 was
just going to give the whole thing up, too. You
can coinc and look at it now, if you wish."
Sherwin arose and went over to tho picture,
gazing at it for ". long time in silence.
" Yes," he said, at last. " You have it. I see
what you mean. The expressi ta is just what
it should lie now. Though, who would have
imagined," he added, " that I could ever look
liko that. But no here," ho suddenly contin
ued, holding out his hand. "Just look at this,
A small ailvi .- coin lay on his outstretched
palm. Earle bke-d at it wonderlngly,' for a
minute, then a quirk light came into his eye."..
" Did sho?" he began.
"Yes, she did, God blcfs her!" cried Sher
win, enthusiastically. "Sho gave me such a
pitying look, as she passed me oh, 1 shall al
ways remember it to the longest day of my
life and then sho dropped this money into my
hand; gave it to mo, because sho thought. I was
as miserable, and poor, and wretched, as I
looked. Yon don't know, Earle, how it. made
me feel. I shall never forget it never ! "
"By George!" exclaimed Earie, "that's a
good one. All you have to do now, is to 'kisa
the coin that her fingers dropped,' and carry
out the full programme."
"And I'll do it," cried Sherwin, excitedly,
raising the coin to his lips; " for she's th 1 sweet
est creature I ever saw in my whole lifo. Who
is she, Earle ? Don't tell mo that she is a pro
"No," said tho artist, "she is not a model.
She is just as sweet, and pure, and lovely as sha
looks. She is a sowing-girl, who works for my
cousin, and helps support her widowed mother.
J met her coming down tho steps one day last
winter. Her face was just what I wanted for
a picture 1 was then painting; so, with the help
of my cousin, 1 persuaded her to pose for me.
We became very good friends, and she often sit3
for me now, though she cannot be induced to
serve as a model lor any of the other artists,
and some of them have offered her quite tempt
ing little sums, too."
" What is her name? What was it you called
her?" asked Sherwin. with unusual interest.
" Oh, 1 called her ' Sweetest Eyes ;' hut that's
not her name, of course; it is Leslie Duncan,"
answered tho artist. "I will show you the pic
ture for whicli she is now posing though it
isn't finished aud then you can judge for your
self whether I have not chosen an appropriate
title when I called it ' Sweetest Eyes.' "
He brought from an adjoining room a partly
finished picture, it was only the head of a
youug girl, crowned with llowcrs; but he had
transferred (iioc marvelous eyes to tho canvas
in a wonde-rlul waj. Sherwin gazed at it in
silence. Then a strange look appeared on his
face. "Yes," he &aid, drawing a lung breath,
it is rightly named. Sho certainly has tho
sweetest eyes thi.t e'er Avere seen.' How won
derfully you havo painted, them, too," ho
auued. "They seem to follow you wherever
Ho went away toon aftr, and Earle noticed,
as he parsed through the door, that his face still
wore the same strange look; and tho artist
smiled to himself in a peculiar way, as he placed
"Sweotebt Eyes" on the easel, and began to
touch up the background.
"What's got into Sherwin lately?" asked
Jack Holmes, lounging into tho studio a day or
two after. " Ho goes mooning oil' by himself
all tho time, and seems to bo growing queerer
and cueerer every day."
" How should 1 know," returned Earle, as ho
industriously squeezed fresh paint on hispalofte.
Jack liad hardly taken his departure, how
ever, before Sherwin himself appeared.
"1 just thought I'd drop in, and see howyou
were getting along," he baid carelessly ; but ho
seemed to bo uneasy, aud wandered about tho
studio in a restless way. " 1 say, Earle." said
he. suddenly pausing before tho artist, I wisli
you'd sell me that picture, when it's finished."
"What, 'Tho Vagabonds'?" asked Earlo,
looking up innocently.
"No, no," cried Sherwin, impatiently. "That
other one the one you call 'Sweetest Eyes.'"
Earle bent his head for a moment, and a little
smile flashed acrossed his face. It was gone in
an instant, however, and he said, gravely :
"I would really like to oblige you, Sherwin ;
hut I aui afraid it is impossible. Vou see I luivo
made up my mind to keep that picture myself;
and, accordingly, it is not for sale. If there is
anything elso 1 can do foryou, I will bo only
too happy, I asuro you."
Sherwin turned quite pale.
" 1 understand," he said, in alow voice. "Sho
is wonderfully beautiful, and you are an artist.
It would be impossible for you to be brought
into contact with so much lovliuess without
liccoming interested. 1 see how it is. I know
why you wish to keep the picture, and "
"My dear fellow," interrupted Earle, " what
ye.u say is quite true. She is wonderfully beau
tiful, and an artist liko iny.ulf might easily
become interested in her if it were not for the
one littlo fact t'.iat he happens to he engaged to
another young Jatly."
Sherwin seized both his hands and shook
them with unnecessary fervor.
u Allow mo to congratulate you," ho cried,
enthusiastically. "I hope you will bo awfully
happy. And you must be sure- aud let me know
when it's coming oil'," ho added.
" I must go now,' he said, a few moments
later, starting towards the door. He paused,
however, when he reached it, and stood there,
idly turning tho knob backwards and forwards.
Then he suddenly turned around.
" Oh ! 1 say, Earle," ho asked rather sheep
ishly. "Would you mind if I dropped in en
next Monday afternoon? To tell tho truth, I'd
like to get another glimpse of that Miss Duncan.
I'd well I'd like to meet her in fact; that is,
if yon have no objection."
"None in the 'least,' responded Earle, with
charming promptness. "She's as nice a girl as
you can meet anywhere."
"You don't think, do you, that she'll recog
nize mo as tho vagabond?" asked Sherwin,
"Of course not," said Earlo. "Your own
mother wouldn't have known you."
He started to go once more; in fact had
readied the top stair, when Earle heaid him
stoj) and then retrace his steps.
"Oh ! by tho way," he Eaid, putting his head
in at the door. " i' you over should decide to
sell that picture, 1 can havo it, can't I ?''
" Yes,' said Earle. " If I ever sell it to any
one it will be to you."
"Oh! thank you, thank you," he cried,
warmly. " I am really oil' now. (Jood-hye."
Earle. waited until the sound of his footsteps
had quite died away, and then ho leaned back
in his chair and indulged in a hearty fit of
"Sweetest Eyes deserves it though," he said,
when his merriment had somewhat subsided.
"Sho had to toil and struggle long enough.
Sho is well educated, too, and fit to shiuo in
any society, oven if sho is a poor sewing-girl.
But 1 -wonder what Jack Holmes wiil say," ho
added, " when he finds out what is tho matter
The young man was promptly on hand Mon
day afternoon; in fact, it might truly be said
of him that " he came, ho saw, ho conquered,"
so smoothly did the course of true love run in
his ease. They met often after this. Two more
unworldly creatures could never bo imagined.
Love emtio to them therefore in a flash, as it
were. Theodore W. Sherwm, of Sherwin town,
Connecticut, thought it tho most natural thing
in the world fur him to marry a poor sewing
girl. As for Miss Leslie Duncan, she murmured
"Yes," accompanying it with a thrilling glauco
from those wonderful eyes, without once know
ing that her accepted lover was a young mil
lionaiie, the gmitly-soutrht-after idol of all
mammas with marriageable daughters.
1 1 was about six weeks after our story opened
when this "Yes" was spoken. Sherwin, tho
happiest mortal in existence, tnrned to Leslie,
and asked her very gravely whether she know
she had just promised to marry a vagabond.
" Why, what do you mean?' she cried, look
ing at him with startled eyes.
"Just what I say." ho returned. "That afc
one time in my life 1 was no bettor than a beg
gar, inasmuch as I r ceived alms. I thought I
ought to tell you. though I hope it will make
no difference in your feelings toward me."
" Of courso it won't! " exclaimed Leslie. " I
know what poverty is, myself. Only I am
sorry, so very sorry, to hear you wero ever so
poor as that. 1 wish 1 could havo known you
then. I would have added my mito towards "
' You did, you dear, sweet, tender-hearted
littlo girl," interrupted Sherwin, suddenly
catching her in his arms, and fairly smothering
her with kisses. "You gavo me tho first, and
last, and only money I ever received as a beggar;
and 1 have loved you from that moment. Do
you want to see the very money j'ou gave me?
What I value more than anything else I possess?
Well, hero it is."
lie took a little package from hia breast
pocket, and opening it, revealed a small silver
Leslie looked at it with wondering eyes; but
it was not until Sherwin told her his history,
that she learned, for the first timo, on whom
she had bestowed her " lucky sixpence."
They had a quiet little wedding, according to
Leslie's desire. Jack Holmes sent her a splen
did India shawl, for a bridal present ; but Ham
ilton Earle's gift, Sherwin declared was tho
crowning drop in his cup of happiness. It
was a picture, rich y framed; tho picture of a
fair youug airl, whoso lovely golden head was
crowned with flowers; and the name which ap
peared on tho frame of this picture was :
A Child nilh Six Crantlmothcre.
From the Philadelphia liccord. " -
J. Lawrence Kclley, a youngster of seven
months, whose parents live. on South Forty
fust street, this city, was christened on Mon1
da j in the presence of two grandmothers, two
great-grandmothers and a great-great-grandmother.
- The ehilil also has another great-greal-grandmonther
living in Washington. The
mother of this remarkaltle baby, Mrs. Sarah
Jane Kclley, is twenty-two years old, and her
mother, Sarah Jane Bichardson, forty years old,
and her grandmother, Mary Robinson, sixty
yaws old. were among those present. Mis.
Mary Robinson's mother, who is still living in
Washington, is over eighty years of ago. Tho
mother of the baby's father, l.ottti Kclley, his
grandmother, Ann Francis, and his grcal
graudmother, Mrs. Ann Washington, were also
present at tho christening. Mrs. Ann Wash
ington is seventy-seven years old. The cere
mony was performed by Rev. It. A. Finn.
The lato lamented Patrick: "I understand
that your father is dead, Mike '"said an Arhun
saw gentleman loan Irish friend. " Yes, For,
the old gintleman has left us. A foine man,
yer houor. Ho could stand up with the best of
ihini." " I haven't seen the old man sinco ho
moved away from here somo few years ago.
Whore was ho living when ho died?" " ilo
wasn't livin' anywhere when ho doid, air. He
was dead thin." Arkuasaw Travcltr.
Tho American filrl.
'By F. W.ir. Myers an Englishman).
Through English eyes more calmly soft
Looks from gr.iy deeps the iippeuliiig charm;
Iledduns on Kuglish elieeUa more oft
The ro.-c of innocent alarm ;
Our oh!-worM heart more gravely feels,
IJ114 learnt 11101 e force, more self-eontrol ;
For us throiiKh aterner music peaU
The full accord of soul and soul.
But, ah, tha life, the Fmile untaught,
The flouting pre.-ei u-u feathery-fuir ;
The eyes anil siipeet that have enught
The brilliance of Columbian air !
No oriole through the forest flits
HI ore sheeny-plumed, more gay nml free ;
On no nymph's marble forehead aits
J'roudlier a glad vh guilty.
Something That iN'obotly Knons.
By George MacDonahi.
The Btara nre spinning their threads,
And clouds ar"fi the di.st that flies;
And the suns are weaving them up
For the lime when the sleepers shall riao.
The ocean in music lolls,
And the gems are turning to eyes;
And the treen are gathering hduIs
For the time when the sleepers shall rise.
The weepers are lcanung to smilo,
And laughter to glean the fie;hij ;
Bum and bury the en re and guile
For tho day when tho sleepers shall rls.
Oh, the dews nml the moths and tho daisy red,
The larks and the glimmers and Hows;
Tho lilies and .sparrow.? and daily bread,
And the something that nobody knows.
By J. V. Cheney.
Falling all tho night-time,
Falling all the day,
Crystal-winged and voiccleajj,
Un their downward way.
Falling through the darkness,
Falling through the light.
Covering with beauty
Vale and mountain height.
Never summer blossom
Dwelt so fair as the.iu;
Never lay like glory
On the fields and trcea.
Itarc tho airy wreathing,
Deftly turned tho scroll,
Hung in woori'aud arches.
Clowning mcailuw knoll.
Freest, chastest fancies,
Volive art, may be.
Winter's sculptors rear to
A ijjiurluii Heroism
is often exhibited by a delicate women during
tho extraction of teeth. Rut why not save them
in time, with SOZODONT, and thus obviate
the necessity of taxing one's fortitude? Tho
tenants of tho mouth, are far more likely to re
main and do good sen ice, if this sovereign pro
tective is used as a safeguard against their un
timely destruction. Tho experience and evi
dence of hosts of people, proves this sanutory
fact. . .
OUR YOUNG FOLKS,
Two Unexpected New-Year's Calls,
or Sable's Search for Strawberries.
By Margaret Ey tinge.
"'Pears to mo if I had some of 'em, 'pears to
mo I'd git well right away,'' raid Tony, in a
fretful voice. " Dou't you 'member 'cm, Sabie ? '
"Yes, I 'member 'em good," replied Sabie,
fanning the sick hoy with an old straw fan sho
had picked up somewhere. And (hen sho went
on to say the same thing she had said a hun
dred times or more before when asked the same
"They wuz a-growin' 'iongsido that place
j they called ' wood,' though it didn't look much
like wood to me oh, sich lots of em reu as
your flanning shirt, Tony, au' a-kindcr a-hidiu'
under their green.-. An' tho man wot wuz a-cut-tin'
a tree says, 'Eat away, young 'uns, thoy's
frco.' An' us eat awnj" an' away, an' oh, they
wuz puflickly 'licious. An' there wuz jos' as
many wen us stopped a-eatin' as wen us he
ginned. They wuu't a bit like the strawber
ries they gives mo to the markifc sometimes
won they can't sell 'em. Them's smashed an'
but wot you a-cryin' for, Tony ?"
" 'Pears to me," sobbed Tony, " if I had some
from that worry place I'd gii- well right away.
They wuz so Trcshin' Sabie!"
Poor little fellow, with nobody to look after
him but Sabie and au old grandmother. Aud
tho old grandmother, who had been growing
feebler and feebler year after year for many
yi'ars, could now do nothing but sit in her big
rocking-chair and knit coarse stockings and
mittens, sinking tho while, in a sweet, quaver
ing voice, tho old-fashioned hymns she had
learned in her girlhood.
Sabie sold these stockings and mittens dur
ing the cold months from door to door in pour
neighborhoods, and on what money was earned
in this way the three just managed to live.
Rut in warm weather, had it not been for tho
kindness of a jolly fat man, who kept an eating
saloon near 1)3', they would have often gono
hungry. Ho saved for them tho best of the food
left by his customers, (some of whom, thinking
themselves hungrier than they really were,
ordered more than they could eat,) and often,
when business had been unusually brisk, ho
added two or three rolls, a handful of crackers,
or a yesterday's pie.
A very good girl was Sabie. Not pretty,
though she might havo been if her faco had nob
been so palo and thin, for sho had soft, gray
eyes with long lashes and curly brown hair;
and not clever, for sho did not even know her
letters. Sho was nearly ten, threo years older
than Tony, aud yet s!io had never been to
school a tlay in her life. Her mother dying,
after a long illness, when she was but six years
old, tho care of her littlo brother fell almost
entirely upon her, Granny then being able to
go out with the mittens and stockings herself.
Hut now that Granny had forgotten her way
about the streets, and could only seo enourjh to
knit, Sabie had to do the selling, the market
ing, and tho house-work, all three. Sho was a
shy child, and made no acquaintances either in
tho tall tenement-house in tho cellar basement
of which they lived, or abroad; and so, you
see her world was a very small one, containing
only Tony and Granny and two or threo of tho
Tony had been delicate and almost helpless
from his birth, but Sabie loved him none tho
less for that. In fact, I think she loved him
more because ho Avas so dependent on her.
That's a way girls and women have, as perhaps
you know. And when, just after Christmas,
ho began to cough so badly that ho grew so
tired ho could no longer sit up her heart ached
for him. and all the time sho could spare from
her work sho spent at his bedside trying to
amuse and cheer him.
"ow the summer before tho winter of which
I write the-fco two children and theu grand
mother had been taken by tho cook of tho
eating-saloon to spend tho day in tho country,
where somo friends of hers lived. Sabio and
Tony had never been in tho couutry before,
and at first, awul by tho silence broken only
by the rustling of tho leaves, the hum of the
insecto, and tho song of tho birds, they spoko
in whispers; but soon after arriving at tho
very small cottage of their friend's friends they
left Granny aud tiio other older folks to chat
and drink tea, and wandered off hand in hand
together, mocking tho birds as they wont.
They kept straight on through tho wood in
which tho small cottage stood, turning neither
to tho right nor to the left lest they should get
lost, until they reached the extreme edge, and
there they found a patch a long patch of
"Strawberries a-growin'! strawberries a
growin'!", they shouted, and down went Sabio
on her knees before them, au example which
Tony soon followed.
"They's litler than market strawberries,"
said sho, "but they's cunniu'er, an'" tasting
one " sugaror. I wonder if us kin take somo."
"Kin us, man?" called Tony to a man who
was cutting down a dead tree on the other sido
of the road.
"Can you what?" askcel tho man.
"Take somo of thorn strawberries?" answered
" Take away ; they're free," was the reply.
And they did take away. They picked and
ato until their faces and hands was stained a
strawberry red, and only stopped when their
friend camoto look for them and toll them it
was almost timo to go home.
That tlay was liko a rainbow set in their
dreary life, and though the good-natured cook
to whom they owed it had returned soon after
to Germany, her native land, they had never
ceaseil to think of her with love and thankful
ness, and to remember her in their prayers.
It had been a day in June that beautiful
day and now it was the last of December, but
still its brightness came back to the sick boy,
and with it a longing for the sweet red berries
that grew on tho edge of tho old wood.
"'Peats to mo, if I had sumo, this pain in my
brcast would go away," he moaned. "Thoy
wuz so good, Sabie. I kin seo 'em now wen I
shuts me eyes. Pooty red strawbeiries. Oh!
if you could on'y git some fur me, Sabie, dear
And at last, on Now-Year's Day, Sabio put
on her shabby felt hat and her patched jacket,
and said to her grandmother :
" Granny, I'm goin' 'way a little whilo fur
somethin' fur Tony. Take gootl care of him
till I gits back." And tho old womau stopped
singing, "L'omo yo sinners poor and needy,"
long enough to say " Yes, yes, dearie."
Then Sabio took ten cents from behind tho
clock on the mauled, and a little basket some
one hail given her from the clooot, and kissing
Granny and her brother good-by, started oil' in
search of the wild strawberries. It wasa bitter
cold day, but mIio drew her jackot tightly about
her, and running as fast as sho could sho had
not forgotten a step of tho way they had gono
that lovely day sho soju reached tho ferry
house, and timidly handed hr ten cents to tho
" Where do you want to go ? " asked ho.
"Applo'ill," said Sabie, meaning Appleville.
"Tho faro is thirty cents twenty more.
Here are only ton."
Tho child shrank back, whilo her eyes filled
"Stop a moment," said tho ticket-seller, see
ing tho tears. " Why do you want to go to
"To gifc somethin' for mo poor littlo sick
brother," sho answered, with a sob, "an' I
hayen't another penny. Neither has mo
'' Well, there's a ticket that'll tako you there
and hack. And now cut along. Tho boat's
Sabio grasped the ticket, gasped "Thank
you, sir," and " cut aloug " at such a rato that
tho boat j'ct having livo minutes to wait
bofore starting tho people already on board
and those going on board looked at her in sur
prise. In fifteen minutes more sho stood in Now Jer
sey, holding her ticket tight in her hand aud
looking about her in a half-frightened way.
"Apple'ir I want to go to Applo'll'," alio re
pealed to ovory one who passed her.
But ovory ono was so intent upon getting
.somewhere himself or herself that no 0110 no
ticed her. At last, in sheer desperation, sho
clutched the silk cloak of a lady who was hur
" Applo'ill' oh ! Applo'ill'," she said, desper
ately. Tho lady stopped and took tho ticket from
her cold red hand. "Appleville," sho said;
" that's not on my road, but I'll show vou
your train, chi.d, aud tho conductor will let
you oil" at the place."
So tho lady led hor to a train of cars that
was waiting for passengers, saw hor seated in
one of them aud then hurried away again.
And Sabie was no sooner seated than the train,
tho locomotive of which had been snorting aiffl
whistling and screaming for some time,
started, and she found herself whirled aloug
at great speed.
Rut how different everything looked from
the time she was whirled over this road before!
Then there ware green grass and green trees
and lovely flowers on every side. Now there
was nothing to be seen but snow snow snow.
Tho ground was covered with it, the trees
and bushes wero laden with it. Poor Sabie!
she had thought that tho snow came only in
the city that the country was always bright
"I wonder if them'll bo under tho snow?"
she paid to herself. " An' mo with no shovel
to dig 'em out! But I'll try to scoop out a few
with mo ban's anyhow."
In a moment or two more tho conductor
"That's your place, little girl," said tho
man who sat next to her, and getting up in
haste, she stumbled through the ear and out on
the platform, from which a brakeman lifted
her down and placed her on the steps of tho
station. Sabie climbed these st-ps as the train
flew away, and when sho had reached the top ono
there lay tho broad road they had travelled
that June day before her. Rut it, liko all tho
other roads, was covered with snow, with tho
exception of a narrow pathway made by a snow
plough on ono side. But Sadie's stout littlo
heart would not give up. " Poor Tony ! " sho
said, and began plodding along tho pathway.
It grow colder and colder; hor ears and feet
ached, her hands wero numb; but still she toiled
on. " They wuz by tho end of tho street," sho
said, and iier breath froze on tho air as sho spoke.
" Maybe there's a few left. If there be, I'll git
'em somehow." And on and on sho trudged,
with all tho patience and endurance born of
love, until the wood was reached.
Rut, alas! tho spot where the stawberries
had grown was ono vast heap of snow.
Theu, for the first time since sho started on
her quest, Sabie's heart began to sink. It
would do no good to "scoop" there with her
hands. Despairingly sho looked about hor for
something with which to dig. Tho branch of
a tree, half buried in tho snow, lay across tho
path. Sho tried to pull it from its resting
place, but her hands were so cold it slipped
from her grasp.
" If t could only gifc a few only five or six!"
she murmured, as a drowsy feeling came over
her; "but I'm so tired an' sleepy I can't try
anymore now;" and down sho sank beside
tho fallen branch, and fell into a sleep from
which sho never would havo awakened had
not a sleigh, full of merry boys out making
New-Year's calls, como dashing along that
" Hello! " shouted the boy that was driving.
" What'3 that I came near running over ! " aud
ho stopped tho horso suddenly.
"A bundloof old clothes, I guess," said one
of his companions. "Drivo on, Sherry, do
please. Wo want to get to Aunt Hannah's by
dinner-time. Just think of the mince-pic and
doughnuts awaiting there, and start along
your fiery steed."
Rut Sherry jumped out instead of driving
on. "Look here, boys," said he, bending over
Sabie, "it's a poor littlo girl, almost if not
quite frozen to death." And raisiug her in
his arms, he carried her to tho sleigh, vhero
tho boys, with many exclamations of pity and
wonder, soon had her wrapped snugly in tho
huffalo roho, and on her way to nuke a totally
unexpected call on Farmer Joy, his good wife,
and pretty daughter.
"Hero they are! hero they are!" joyfully
cried tho pretty daughter as the sleigh stopped
at the gate, aud running to tho door, she called
out, cheerily, " Happy New-Year ! " while her
mother smiled tho wish over hor shoulder.
"Happy New-Year, Aunt Hannah and
Cousin Dora!" shouted tho boys in answering
"And we've brought you a caller we picked
up on the road," added Sherry, laughing out
right in his joy as he peoped'into the buffalo
robe and saw that Sabie had unclosed her eyas,
and wasn't anything liko frozen to death after
And then ho lifted her out, and with Ned
Morningstar bearing part of the buffalo-robe,
as pages in olden times used to carry tho trains
of tho great ladies, he staggered up the path
and up tho stoop, and placed his astonished
burden before his equally astonished aunt aud
"I couldn't gifc 'em I couldn't gifc 'em,"
were tho first words Sabie said.
" Couldn't get what, dear'" asked kind Aunt
Hannah, as she placed her on tho dining-room
tufa, and puiled off the old shoes to rub the icy
Sabio was unable to tell just then; sho was
so full of tingling aches and pains, and her
head buzzed so strangely.
Rut two hours later, when warm from head
to foot, and dressed in somo comfortable gar
ments that the pretty daughter had outgrown,
and after a diuner tho liko of which sho had
never oven dreamed of, sho told her simple
And when it camo to an end, Sherry went
out into tho hall, making a sign to his com
rades to follow, whicli they did immediately,
for they were all true to tho " General," as they
" I say. boys," said ho, " let's make up a good-New-Years
present for her sho hadn't any
Christinas, poor littlo thing and tako her
homo. Wo can niako a New-Year's call on
Tony and Granny at tho same time, and bo
back plenty early enough for cousin Dora's
"All right. General," chimed in Ned Morn
ingstar; "and we'll get Aunt Hannah to givo
us a jar of her preserved strawberries, and
they'll biing tho young chap around; that is,
if strawberries em do that same. They aren't
wild, but I'm wild after them."
"I'm with you.'' said Austin Hovel. "Sho's
a real good sort, sho is. Why, one of our sistera
couldu't havo done more for us."
"Mine wouldn't do half as much for me,"
declared Sherry. " Why, it was only this
morning sho refused point-blank to bako more
than fifteen buckwheats forme because I was
late at breakfast."
"A most unsisterly, not to say shameful,
proceeding," said Ned Morningstar, with mock
indignation. "But come, we must straight to
our aunt and cousin our plans unfold. Tampus
You may be sure Aunt Hannah and Cousin
Dora heartily approved of tho plans when they
wero unfolded. And thoy showed their appro
bation by packing into a bushel basket an
honest and true bushel basket as their share
of tho New-Year's gifts, a loaf of hoinc-mado
bread, half a boiled ham, a roast chicken, a
bowl of butter, a tin pail of fresh eggs, a paper
bag filled with doughnuts, and some potatoes,
onions, turnips, tea and sugar, not forgetting
luo jara of preserved strawberries.
And Matt, tho hired man, brought out tho
two-horse sleigh, and putting tho heavy basket
iu first, got in himself, took tho reins, aud
waitesd for tho others. Sabio, wrapped in a
blanket, which sho was to keep, was placed in
tho bottom of tho sleigh beside tho basket.
" She'll bo warmer there than anywhere else,"
Eaid Aunt Hannah."
Then tho boys tumbled in, and tho horse3
pranced, anil tho bells jingled, and away they
went, to stop, in just ono hour aud threo quar
ters, in front of tho tall tenement-house tho
collar-baaomenfc of which Sabio called " homo."
And didn't tho turn-out cause a great ex
citement among tho peoplo in that neighbor
hood ! Such a thing had never been seen
there beforehand tho windows on each side of
tho block wero filled with curious faces faces
that showed every stage of astonishment as
Sabio was lifted from tho sleigh, anil tho six
fine, manly-looking boys followed her to call
The old woman stopped singing "How tedi
ous and tasteless the hours ! "and looked at thorn
with a glimmer of surprise as they trooped in.
"I lappy New-Year, grandmother ! " said thoy
all; aud Sherry laid a purse filled with, silver
half-dollars in her lap.
" Happy Now-Year, my bravo lads," said she.
And Matt brought in tho bushel basket,
Sherry going out to mind tho horses as ho did
so, aud opened a jar of strawberries in tho
twinkling of an eye.
"They's not tho werry same, Tony," said
Sabie, eagerly, "but 1 got 'cm near that place,
I did. Aud oh, Tony, 1 got lots an' lots of other
gooil things too."
"Did you go 'way out there fur me, j 1st fur
me?" asked Tony. " You's tho bestest an'
smartest sister ever wuz, an' I feel ever so much
better this werry miunifc. Happy Now-Year,
And tho General and his company got back
to Joy Farm just as tho party began, aud when
tho guests had all arrived.
Aunt Hannah told the stor3T of Sabie's search
for tho strawberries, and tho boys told about
their visit to Tony and his grandmother, and
tho result was at least thirty more good friends
for tho family in tho cellar-basement.
And in consequenco of that result the collar-
basement was "to let" in a fow weeks, and
Sabie, Tony and Granny were living in a com
fortable four-roomed cottage only a stone's
throw from Farmer Joy's fann-houso.
And there they are living still. And when
Sabie reads this story, as she is sure to do, she'll
wonder how I came to know all about those
two totally unexpected New-Year's calls.
WOMAN IN THE WAR.
.Some Interesting Iiomiaisrrnce or an American
Mention. was mado in last week's Tribune
of the fact that Chase Post, No.50,of Titusvillo,
Pa., held a very successful Camp-fire on the 2Sth
ult., and that among its features was the read
ing of some interesting reminiscences of tho
war by Dr. J. L. Dupii. Tho suly'ect of tho
doctor's paper was the influence of tho women
of our country during that trying period; and
as that is a topic which, in the judgment of tho
Tribune, cannot be too frequently discussed,
we reproduce his remarks below. Said ho :
" In selecti ig a subject for a reminiscence of
the late war, I could find no fitter ono than tho
influence of the women of our country dnring
that trying conflict. Tho history of all tho
wars of tho pat have presented but few in
stances where woman has broken through tho
conventionalities of her sex and taken her
stand either in the wars of conquest or in
patriotic defense of country. Occasionally a
woman would appear on the stage of action who
would perform some noble act that would send
her name down to historical fame like tho
Maid of Sarragosa and Florenco Nightingale.
Tlu?sc few exceptional cases havo been all that
past wars have given us. Far differently baa
been the case in our late strugzle for nationality.
During this strngglo hundreds of women from
the various walks of life- havo identified them
selves with tho cause of their country and mado
for themselves a name aud a fame that will
endure through all time."
Dr. Dunn then read the following letter, which,
he had written to his wife, and which gives tho
noble work of ono woman especially:
IIakpeb's Frnnv, Va., Oct. 15, 1S62.
: Wo are at this time trying an experi
ment in our hospital at mokctown ; that is, we ara
keeping our bad coses in tents instead of tending
them away to distant hospitals. In this way much
suffering it, avoided and their chances for recovery
much better, especially as the .weather lias been
pleasant since the battle. I think the chances aro
oni'-half in favor of the wounded treated in a Held
hospital, but with all the care and attention possible
many die every day. The Sanitary Commission,
together fvitb three or four noble, feelf-sacrifseingf
women have done everything possible in the way
of supplying those little necessaries so important in
the nursing of the wounded and sick: intact they
have furnished almost every luxury that could bo
obtained at home. There is quite a little history
connected with the timely services rendered to our
division by one of these women, and they are so
strangely strung together during the incidents of
the past few montlis that it may interest you. I
will give you the facts as they have como under my
notice antl into my experience. 1 refer to a latly by
the name of Clara Barton, tho daughter of Judgo
Hurton, of Worcester, Mass. I first met her at tha
battle of Cedar "Mountain, near Culpeper, Va., en
the 9th of August lost, when she made her appear
ance at our hospital, which we bad established ai
the residence of Thomas Nolle, and whicli was ai
the time lying between the contending lines. Tha
hou&c and grountls were full of .wounded, and wo
found ourselves short of ilresssinga and medical and
Mirgical supplies. At 12 o'clock at night, while the
shells were teariugthrough the trcesin theiawn, this
woman drove up to our hospital with a team loaded
with supplies, and furnished us with everything
required; then took her course towards another
hospital on our right, which she also furnished with
all necessary supplies. After doing everything she
could in the field she returned to Culpeper, where
she remained distributing shirts and drawers to tha
naked wounded, for the enemy bad stripped tha
wounded on the field, where they had lain for two
days in the broiling August sun before they wera
brought in under a flag of truce.
While in Culpeper she busied herself in prepar
ing seup and such food as the wounded required,
antl seeing that it was done in all the hospitals. I
thought that night that if heaven ever sent out a
homely angel that she must be the one; the angel of
the battlc-tield her services were so timely. After
our wounded wero removed back to Alexandria
and Washington we began our retreat up the Rap
pahannock, and I thoughtnomoreofour ladyfriend,
only that she had returned to Washington. We ar
rived on the disastrous battle-field of Bull Run badly
supplied with medical stores, Jackson having cut
off our wugon trains ami destroyed thpm, tho rail
road bridges destroyed, preventing them reaching
us in that way, consequently we went into the fighl
short of almost every necessary supply. While tha
battle was raging the fiercest on Friday, theC0th,who
should drive up to our hospital but this same woman
with a six-mule team loaded elown with hospital
supplies, having mado a forced march from Wash
ington to the battle-field. Sho was again, a wel
comed visitor to both tha wounded and the sur
geons. The battle over, the wounded removed to
the rear, we were ordered to Fairfsuc Station, tho
place where the wounded were to bo shipped on
ears'to Wii&hington. We had barely reached thero
before the battle of Chantilly commenced. When
wc reached Fairfax all the supplies that Ave had of
any kind were our surgical instruments. Tha
wounded began to come in thick and fast, when the
cars whistled up to the station, and the first person
seen on the platform was Miss Barton, who again
supplied us with bandages, lint, stimulants, soup,
jullica. and clothing, ami everything needed for tha
wounded. She remained until the last "f tha
wounded were placed on the cars, then bidding us
good by, returned to Washington. I wrote to you ai
the time of our night-march from Fairfax to Alex
andria. In a day or two our whole army was again
back behind tho fortifications at Washington and
Alexandria. Yet our soleiiers had no time to rest;
they wcr at once ordered into Maryland to inter
cept the invasion of that State by the enemy. After
several days of laird marching we reached Freder
ick City, Md. The next day the battle of South
Mountain was fought, and two tlays aAer that our
army stood face to face with the entire rebel tinny.
The'rattle of 150,000 muskets and the roar of over
four hundred cannon will make the 17th of Septem
ber. 1W2, a memorable event in the Nation's history,
for nt tiio break of d:iv wo found ourselves enentred
, in the great battle of Antietam. My hospital was
m a l.irm-house tliat we bail taken posession or
early in the morning, and it was not long before
the house and barn, as well as the orchard, wero
full of wounded men. Here again we were without
proper medical stores, not having had time to have
our requisitions- filled through the red tapo process
exacted by tho Surgeon General, and by 9 o'clock
a. m. we had expended our last bandage and had
torn up the sheets and everything in the house that
would do for dressings, when who should drive to
our hospital but our old friend. Miss Harton, with
her six-mule team, loaded with supplies in abund
ance, not only for ua but for other hospitals, an
other timely service. She remained at our hospi
tal all that elay and night preparing food and drink
for the wounded. When I left, four days after, sho
was there ministering to the wcunded and dying.
When I returned to the field hospital last week sho
w.es still there at work supplying them with every
delicacy needed and administering to their wants.
All this she has elono out of her own private for
tune. Now, what do you think of Miss Barton?
In my opinion Ueneral MeClellaii, with all hLs
laurels, fade-s into insignificance beside this noblo
woman. While he is seeking the bauble reputation
even at the cannon's mouth, she id binding up the
wounds and working in the interest of suffering:,
bleeding humanity, and it is 110 misnomer when I
call her the Angel of tho Battle-Field.
Dr. Dunn said ho had not seen Miss Barton
since tho battle of Autistam, but shortly after
tho battle sho was appointed by Mr. Lincoln to
a temporary bureau in connection with tha
War Department, having in charge tho looking
up of missing soldiers and caro of National
cemeteries, as well as a general supervision of
tho Sanitary Commission. In this position she
remained long after the war closed. In 1S65
he recoived tno following letter from her:
WAsiuxoros, D. C, Sept. 22, 1565.
Dn. Dcxn: My old time cherished friend will not
fail to recognize and receive this little token,of re
membrance from me: I who have kindnesses to
thank him for, and a blessing to send him. By all
the memories of the sad scenes wo havo witnessed
in the past, let us be friends in tho future, and if
Washington lies in your way find me in it. I send
this by Mrs. Peck, who has passed a few days with
me, and I cannot seo her depart without this word
of recognition to you. With grateful memories, I
remain, very sincerely, yours,
Dr. Dunn closed with a sketch of tho life of
this noble woman after tho war her humane
work among tho woundedintho Prussian army
and at tho Paris hospitals, aud her sickness and
treatment afterward at Windsor Castle.
SONGS OF THE CAMP.
Wo'to Drank From the Same Cantesa.
Thero are bonds of all sorts In this world of our,
Fetters of friendship and ties of flowera,
And true lovers' knots 1 ween.
The boys anil girls are bound by kbw,
But there's never a bond, old friend, liko this:
We have drunk from- the samo canteen.
The same canteen, my soldier frlsnd,
The same canteen ;
There's never a bond like thla t
We have drunk from the samo o&ntees.
It wn3 somethnos water nnd sometimes milk,
Sometimes applejack, fine as silk ;
But whatever the tipple has been,
V. e shar'd it together in bane or in bibs.
And I warm to you, friend, when I think of this 1
Wo have drunk from tho samo canteen.
We've Bharcd our blankets and tents together.
And marched aud fought in all kinds of weather,
And hungry and full we've been;
Had days of battlo and days of rest,
But this memory I cling to and lovo tho beal s
Wo havo drunk from the aamo canteen.
For when wounded I lay on the outer slope,
With my blood flowing fast, aud but littlo hope
On which my faint spirit might lean ;
O! then I remember, you crawl'el to my aide,
And bleeding 80 fast, it seemed both must havs
We have drunk from tha s&me cantosu,