Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 October 1874 — MISS SABRINA’S RAG-BAG. [ARTICLE]

MISS SABRINA’S RAG-BAG.

Why Miss Sabrina Clarkson left her snug little house under the great elms at Lapley’s Corner, few people knew. Her taxes Were paid punctually, and her garden was aAhing to be, proud of. Even the crabbed Treasurer of the County Horticultural Society smiled when he beheld the fruit and vegetables “ raised by a woman,’’ and his smile grew into a broad grin when he was invited there during strawberry time. Solomon Peering said in town meeting that Sabrina Clarkson had more money than some, folks he could name who h&ld their heads very high. Solomon knew all about it; it was a trick of his to know everybody’s affairs better than the individuals themselves. = He surprised the Widow Perkins one day by telling her how many shares she held in the Boston A Maine Railroad, a little secret, she had faithfully kept ever since her rich brother in California had purchased them. It was Solomon Peering, too, who followed Janie Parsons when she stole softly away for a farewell walk with her old playfellow Maurice, the night before he went to college. What a stir it made, to be sure! The young people knew how cordially Maurice’s father hated every member of the Parsons family; they knew he had forbidden his son calling there, but they remembered the old days before Janie’s father died and Maurice lost his mother! How happy they all were! What delightful family parties they made, and Maurice would call Janie his wife. That was before the paper was lost, something about some pine lands which the elders held jointly in a distant State. It disappeared mysteriously during sickness and trouble in the family, and no efforts of the good people to find it resulted favorably. Of late the elder Henderson Trad fancied it "Cbncealed somewhere, for the benefit of his old friend’s family, and to his pecuniary injury. This fancy had sprung up suddenly, prompted by some malicious adviser, after his good wife died; and Mr. Henderson could not or would not believe the widow of his old friend entirely innocent. Poor children! life seemed full of trouble to them then, ana it grew harder to bear when Maurice was ibrbidden to enter the “ second home,” as he had called Mrs. Parsons’ house from a child. “ Yau must come down to the ‘ Willows’ to-night and bid me good-by,” was written uh a bit of lhejiy-leaf to “ Watts’ Psalms and Hymns,” and handed across the vestry to Janie. Solomon Peering saw the movement, and he chuckled with delight. “ There is mischief afloat,” said he, “ and I’ll find out what it is. - ’ If you ask me why Solomon Peering, with a heart professedly full of his dear Master, could suddenly have a head full of schemes to destroy the pleasure of two innocent young people who had never injured him, 1 cannot tell you. If you ask me why a man full of years, “in good and regular standing” in a Christian church, should spend his time in hunting up or concocting bits of scandal, to the injury of his fellowtravelers, I am still unable to answer. I am afraid the field for home-missionary labor is closer than we think; however, I must tell about Janie’s farewell, and then pass on to Miss Sabrina, who is so mtxqd up with all that pertains to the little village at Lapley’s Corner, and Shelbyville proper, that it seems impossible to relate a story without her. You may not think it, but these women known as “old maids” could teach us much about love and romance—we married, comfortable, motherly people, I mean. _ But about Janie. She went home that night, and, like a sensible girl, showed the note to her mother. “Would it be proper, mamma?’t Mrs. Parsons sighed, and thought for a moment. They were only children, like brother and sister. Mary and she had • promised to look after them, if one mother went home before the other; the boy might go away with a tenderer thought of home, which in the hereafter would keep him from temptation. Janie saw tears in her 'mother’s eyes, and sprang toward her for a cares.s. “ Don’t mind, darling,” she said. I —l don’t care very much, and you and I are so happy, mother dear.” She put. her curly head close to her mother’s pale cheek, and made a pretty picture for Solomon Peering's benefit, as. he looked in from his perch behind a pillar of the piazza. And then Mrs. Parsons told her daughter all her thoughts, sad and otherwise* and in return Janie showed her a little housewife filled with thread,, needles and pins, which she had made for a farewell gift to Maurice. If mothers would only learn to .give confidence they would be more, likely to receive it. Youth is exacting, and seldom gives without an equivalent. / After a little talk Mrs. .Parsons took down her shawl and went out with her daughter. Just before they reached the long, shady path known as the Willows, she said Now, daughter, impress on him

the necessity for obedience to his father’s wishes; tell him not to mind the injustice, but hope on until his education is complete, and' if h£ ever needs help in any trouble to remember his second mother.” 't “You must come too,” said Janie, “indeed you must; Maurice will be so sorry!” * , “No, child; I will walk slowly back and do you go on, and may you speak some word that may cheer him to do his duty bravely and make us all happy.” Solomon Peering caught the last words as he stepped cautiously behind a tree. “Oh, yes; make us all happy, no doubt,” he muttered. “You haven’t any designs on the ’Squire’s money-bags, oh, • no!”

Airs. Parsons walked on, and Janie went slowly down the path. On a stump close by the water sat Maurice, snapping a willow switch in and out. impatiently; he did not see Janie until she called his name, then lie threw down the rod and sprang to meet her. “ You’re a jewel,” he said, in his old, off-hand manner. “ Why didn’t auntie come too?” “I have just left her; shall we walk after her?” “ No,” said Maurice sadly, “it might cause more trouble; nobody minds your running around at night—you have done it ever since I could remember, and no one ever dared trouble you.” “ I am never afraid,” said Janie; “ it is one of father’s old tricks, and my best thoughts come to me at night.” “Pretty talk, that,” said Solomon to himself. The young people went on, and the pious follower dogged their steps. ----- “You must not go farther,” said Maurice; “ those tiresome French scholars will be enough for you to-morrow, and we will sit down here on ‘ mother’s chair.’” Years before the two mothers had made it a place of rest when the little ones could walk but a short distance. “Now, pet, tell me all your plans for the future, and I will tell you mine. I must be in when the bell rings, for father has been making new rules of late.” Solomon Peering stepped-into a mudhole just then, and came very near discovering himself by uttering “his favorite expression of “ criminy.” “ I thought I heard some one.” sard Janie. “You must talk lower, Maurice.” ■ ' “Nothing init a turtle jumping into the water,” he answered. “ And we never say anything a third party might not hear.”

“ Oh, don’t you?” said Solomon, and he looked out just in time to see Maurice take Janle’s hand in his. It was hard work for Solomon, standing on one foot in a miry spot, but his zeal never flagged with curiosity to feed on. Presently he heard Maurice say, in an angry tone :~ “ I can’t, and I won’t, Janie. My dead mother is more to me than my Jiving father, and you must let me write to you. If he turns me out of doors for loving you, I will be turned out; that is all!” Solomon stole from his hiding-place carefully, and went swiftly to ’Squire Henderson’s house. The dampness of his listening gallery had given him a twinge of rheumatism, and he found himself compelled to halt half way up the hill. “It is tough work,” said he,|“but I’ll teach those young creeturs obejunce to parents. Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,” he added, “ do it;” and he gave the door-bell a pull that startled the ’Squire’s housekeeper from her evening nap. The’Squire himself appeared. " Good evening, Deacon.” “ I say, 'Squire, you jist put on your hat, you know, anfi come along o’ me if you want to see how sharper than a serpent’s tooth, etc., etc., as our blessed book says; such cooing and billing I never did see.” ’Squire Henderson’s face flushed, and he took from the hat-rack his beaver with its heavy band of crape. Why did not some good angel remind him of her for whom he wore it and plead for her child? No tender memories haunted him and he strode out after Solomon, who puffed and blowed vigorously. When they reached the place the guide put up a warning linger and bade him listen. Janie was speaking: “She begs you to obey your father’s wishes and hope on until your education is complete.” “ I won’t obey,” said the boy, roused by his sense of wrong to a fury. “He knows I never disobeyed him in anything else; he knows my sainted mother told me to watch over and love you; he knows your father asked me on his death-bed" to be father and brother to you, and, God helping me, I will. I would do anything to make father happy. I know it is dreadful without her; it is so hard for me sometimes I want to run away or, hang myself, but I don’t do it, for father’s sake. Don’t I love you just as well as he ever loved mother; don’t I? He never thinks of that; and if my mother could speak, she would beg him to make us happy. I wish she could speak! ” exclaimed Jhe, passionately. Did she? What was it that started great drops of sweat on ’Squire Henderson’s brow? The night was cool, but he was very warm and trembling. He seemed to hear his Mary saying, “ Dear John, dear John.” It couldn’t be! He listened! Little Janie Parsons was speaking in a choked voice: “Don’t, Maurice, dear Maurice; it is our last night together, and it will all come out right. We must not make our parents unhappy, they are both so lonely now.” “ There, I told you so,” said Solomon; “ the girl’s well enough ; it’s that redheaded boy of yours makes the trouble! ” He croaked in a hoarse whisper, but suddenly shrieked with pain when ’Squire Henderson seized him by the arm. The young couple looked around and saw' in the moonlight the discomfited Solomon receiving a severe shaking. “ What is it, father?” asked Maurice, eagerly. * “Nothing, only this villain had better Stop troubling himself about my affairs.” The’Squire talked in a jerky way ; his recent exercise was unusual. The old gentleman wiped his brow, while Maurice in his own brave w r ay said: “Father, I asked Janie to meet me here for the purpose of bidding her fare- ; whatever 1 have said to her I am quite willing to repeat. I could not awpy without a good-by for my old playmate and my mother’s little pet.” ( Janie stood under the willow twigs during this little speech, looking from one to the other, ami dreading the outburst which she felt sure would come. When it came her blue eybs sparkled with delight. “ Solomon Peering, doypu leave for home as soon as possible, and. hereafter show a little of your zeal in

overcoming some of your prying curiosity, and not aH in words during churchmeeting.” Peering walked up the foad utterly cast down and dismayed. I dare sayhecomforted himself with some quotation Horn Scripture. Such persons have made precious promises answer their own sordid ends. “ Now, my boy,” said the ’Squire, “ I did heqr part of your conversation; and, if this young lady will take my arm, we will walk home and talk over matters in the library.” Was Mauricq dreaming? Had ’Squire Henderson become insane? Was it pos sible that Janie -and he were really walking with his own father? If Solomon Peering had done evil and all this good had come of it, he wanted •to run after him and get-down on his knees to the meddling old hypocrite who for once had made people happy. It was all true! Maurice had touched the right chord, and Janie’s voice had done the rest, and three happy people went home that night. What a stir it made, and how many people stared, when Airs. Parsons and Janie rode down with the ’Squire to see Alaurice off the next morning! Three weeks after Solomon Peering said, in the Postoffice, “ that he had been the means of reconciling the parties,” and added, as he took a satisfactory whiff of his pipe, “ Blessed are the peacemakers.” But the lost paper was not found, although the widow prayed daily that it might be, and the ’Squire* begged her not to give it a thought—the children would have enough without it. No one was more pleased than Sabrina Clarkson when Janie told her with tears and smiles about the making up. “ It was too dreadful, my dear, at first, but how lovely the sunshine is after your cloudy weather. Yes,yes; I shall help dress a pretty bride some day.” One night after Alaurice had gone back to college (and the vacation had been all too short) Gracie Warren, Janie, and young Turner, the organist, were walking home from choir meeting, when they came upon Aliss Sabrina trundling a wheelbarrow filled with boxes and bags. .“ Why, Aliss Sabrina!” said both girls at once, “ where-are you going?” ■ “ Aloving,” was the laconic reply. “And left the elms, and the strawberry patch, and the old well ? How could you ?” asked thoughtless Gracie. Miss Sabrina coughed a little and was silent. “Any trouble, dear?” asked Janie, in her sweet voice. Janie petted everything and everybody that came in her way, so she said “ dear” to Aliss Sabrina as the other girls never dared to. “ A pretty fuss over an old maid,” said Bert Turner to himself. “No trouble to speak of, child; leastways, not mine all alone; but when it comes to one of us I reckon it kinder touches all of us, or it ought to. I don’t mind telling you, Janie, for your heart is that good you wouldn’t sleep if you thought a living soul was worried.” . Bert Turner looked at Janie and half resolved to cut Alaurice Henderson out, believing fully in' his masculine power to do so. “I’m going up to the minister’s,” said Aliss Sabrina; “she is all alone, poor thing, and nigh broken-hearted without him. I can’t help wishing the Lord would take both, and not leave one so miserable. There is your mother, half of her alive, half dead; ’Squire Henderson the same; and now here is that poor minister’s wife left with five children and no sort of health; it’s mysterious. If it had been her that was calied we wouldn't have been surprised, but him to be cut down with a fever, a great, hearty, healthy man, too, it’s dreadful for her.” “But.what will you do?”asked Gracie, still curious.

“ Oh, I’vO let the Elms conditionally for five years; the income will help that biggest boy to finish his studies, and if Mrs. Reaper is a. mind to put up with a tormenting old maid I s’pose we shall get on somehow.” “What a good soul you are,” said (iracie, and Bert Turner wished “ the good soul” miles away. “I am so glad. Miss Sabrina,” said Janie; “it is just like you; one of these days I mean to write a book about single women and tell all the world how much good they do, and you shall be in it.” “Nonsense, child,” said Miss Sabrina, and she stooped to take up her load. “ Won’t you roll it for her, Mr. Turne r?” asked Gracie; “41 isso he a vy.” Bert elevated his nose and asked to be excused. “Y ou will please excuse us from your society then,” said Gracie quickly; and' while she spoke Janie had taken the handlesand was trundling, it over the walk. The three women walked on together. “ Why didn’t you have an expressman, Miss Sabrina?.” > • - “ I wanted to go up quietly all by mysel|”’was the reply; “folks talk enough, anyway.” Janie’s small arms gave out soon, and Gracie relieved her. By and by they all sat down to rest, and Gracie spied a long, dark bag on the top of the load. “What is that, Miss Sabrina—your ragbag?” _______ “Like enough,” was the answer; “it has tore to pieces some of my old narrow ideas about things, and made rags of plenty of prejudices.” The old lady looked at the girls slyly, and then added in a softer tone: “ You see, Janie, when I went up to your house to help take care of your pa, none, of us thought the professor was so near his end, and one day he sez, in his soft, kind way, ‘ Sabrina, is there anything of mine you would like after I am gone?’ It struck me all in a heap for a minute, and then I sez, ‘lf you wouldn’t mind letting me have a sermon or used to preach, I should like ’em.’ You ought to have seen his smile, Janie, when he said:— * Bless you, my good woman, there is a bag full of them in that closet, which I put there years ago; take the whole of them, and if you find a decent one now and then save jt ; for my wife and little Janie.’ r’Five years ago, Janie, and you are seventeen —well, I began at the first one and read- slowly. I am only half way down yet, but,. I’ve found some rich treasures ; and as fast-as I do I tie them up and mark them for you, dear.” “If you would only let me read them with you,” said Janie, “ I should like it. Mamma could bear them now, I think; she has plenty of his later ones, but those were written when he was first engaged to her, I have heard her say.” Miss Sabrina took up her burden now and went on; at the door of the little parsonage she paused and gave the bag to Janie. “You take it, dear, and every Sunday evening I’ll come to hear a daughter read her father’s words; that is, if your ma is willing; she doesn’t mind my crankiness the least mite?’

i Gracie and Janie went* home holding i the bag between them, and chatting meri riiy about Air. Turner, while the subject .of their conversation was engaged in ' smoking and cursing himself for his folly. How much good Aliss Sabrina did the overworked woman at the parsonage, how Charlie Reaper studied hard and blessed the “dear old maid,” how comfortable the children were, and how carefully all “crankiness” was kept out of sight, must be told hereafter; but Shelbyville never ceased to wonder why Sabrina left her home and took upon herself a life of toil for others. All sorts of reasons were assigned, even to the i malicious one of suggesting her attachment to the dead clergyman previous to his marriage, which invention of the enemy was a powerful freak of the imagYnation, seeing Aliss Sabrina and Shelbyville had never heard of him until he came with a wife and three babies to minister unto them.

Everybody acknowledged her to be a “good woman,” a few called her “peculiar,” and others a “queer old maid,” but the slowness of the human species to admit the possibility of downright, unselfish kindness is remarkable; a cynic might ’ say the kindness is remarkable; but, dear reader, I am not a cynic, and do believe heartily in unselfish souls who lead a life of denial and die unappreciated; the class is larger than you think, especially among women. Aliss Sabrina was a true-hearted New England woman, hating wrong, but tender tb the wrong-doer; despising sin, but secretly or openly working for the sinner; strong mentally and physically, with a mother-love in her heart that would shame many a modern matron who caresses fl! lap-dog and leaves her innocent children to the mercy of a hireling. | The Sunday evening readings were regular and profitable; gradually the little circle was extended, and even ’Squire Henderson asked permission to join them. Of course it was granted, and more than once he was heard to say: “ Just like him, dear old Prof.,” which proved to Airs. Parsons her mistake in supposing him for a moment intention--ally-eruel to his old college -friend. One night, when Maurice and his father came in, Janie brought down the bag and Aliss Sabrina put in her hand. as usual for the manuscript. As she drew ly forward; Airs. Parsons and the young people begged to know “what was the matter?” There in ’Squire Henderson’s hand was the long-lost paper, and poor Airs. Parsons’ prayers were answered! Dignified senior as Alaurice was hekissed Miss Sabrina on either cheek and told her she was a blessing to the world. For years the paper had rested quietly, surrounded by grave discussions and learned articles, and but for the wheelbarrow load and Grade’s careless remark it might have remained undiscovered for years, for I question much if Aliss Sabrina would have found it without the aid of more rapid readers, especially as the good woman found time for everything for others and little leisure for herself. There was a grand wedding in Shelbyville last autumn, and conspicuous among the presents was Aliss Sabrina’s Rag-bag.— American Homa for September.