Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 February 1877 — “A HARD WINTER.” [ARTICLE]

“A HARD WINTER.”

r'Lawks-i-mtisgy, Joe! don’t it look nice jin there ?” »“ Tea ;.Wt it's awful cold out hero. Injun summer they calls thia time o’ Sat, but I don’t see no summer ’bout it. d yer ever know such a wind?” “ Ain’t it summer in there, though?— see the big fire they got. Do yer a'pose them'fdllra in there is ever cola like we? I’m very cold, Joe,” he added, mournfully; as the chili M ovetnber blast swept round the corner from the Avenue, and the biting dampness made its way through his Scanty clothing. “ Wa’al, it is hard on a little chap like you,; but don’t cry; it’s going to be a hard wintei, (young un, and yer mustn’t begin tpSrel now. This ain’t nothin’; atop till it snows and freezes’before yer make a fiW We’ll go up that there stoop oppo-Mie-rthere ain’t no draft in the westibule —and there we can get a better look at the fire, and see what the swells is a-doin’. I'll tell -yer-all Jbout’em. Bless yer, I knows the fam'ly. “ Does they know you, Joe?” ■ • ‘•'Wa’al, I wouldn't like to say that for <&rtaitt. “• Yer see, there ain't nothin’ werry pertlcklar about my personal appqaftHMft, and Jirey mightn’t know me from any other feller ’bout my size, but I k nows them. Fust, there’s the old jl jf Who’s, ate?” “ She! why, she ain’t nobody. It’s the ynung ’oman what’s the hull concern. She lives with her.*’ ""Whatfor?” X “Why-, cos it ain’t proper for aharnsopae young woman to live, all. alone. But you can’t know anything ’bout the wayaof perlite s’ciety—how should yer?” ?‘Howdo you know?” *•« Wa’al, yer see, life has its ups and downs. >'t When I was a little feller ’bout tCe Sljib bf yba. I was loafin’ round here q&0 day, art) Jeems—Jeems is the Mg fel■r who yttgrs tin buttons on his coat and tight yelldr breeches tucked inside his boot-legs; yer’ll see him‘round MrawWes ip ,a minute or twp if yer ttvSah—-Jeems wanted a letter put in the wk ofe the lamp-post for his missus. Feldon’t* like movin' round nflSflL.tkew gite so accustomed to takin’ theirexerclse rfdin’ on the kerrldge ’longside the river, and they grows so fat and e Xn {Moot h’s amawrul trial to ’em. When he coms out with the letter he catches sight of me, andT axes' me If I was a lad ,at cpold bo trusted, and would I like to teahi an honest penny. I see * yes,' and he guvs me the letter. * It’s werry important,’ says Jeems. ‘lt’s from my

young missus, Mina Maud Congdon, to the Rev. Howard Langly; it’s as how he’s to dine with her next Monday, and too mustn’t on no account lose it.’ So Itakei it werry careful. You never seen a letter like that, young ’un—aech a little, smooth, shiny, white thing, with the least little bit of writing on one aide and a postage stamp, and on the other a lot of big letters all sorts of colors, snarled up in a tangle till yet couldn’t make ’em out wat they was, only they looked like a little bokay printed right in the middle. And then how it smelt!—just like them nosegays you see the gals a-sellin* on the corners of Broadway. I was awful ’fraid I’d sile it, cos my fingers never is clean, there bein’ no conveniences for gittin’ ’em so where I live; but I took hold of it by the corner and got it into the lamppost box without a bit of a smudge.” “ Who else did yer know!” “ The cook took a fancy to me, and many’s the preakfast I eat sittin’ on a bench in the back-yard. They used to give me the drumsticks off the fowls; there ain’t nobody in that house would eat drumsticks—Lor’ bless you, no; second j’ints was what they wanted—but I liked the drumsticks.” “Oh, Joe, wouldn’t one go good now!” “ Don’t be unreasonable, young un. Times now is too hard for people in your sarcumstances to hanker after poultry. Git in this corner. That theer wind is cornin’ from the northeast, and it won’t hit yer so hard jest here. Ye’re sech a little feller yer might be blowed away, and yer’ve got a mar to fret about yer—l ain’t. Hullo! there’s a cove goin’ to stop at that house yonder. Wonder would he like a feller to hold his hoss! Think I’ll ask him. It don’t do to let an opportunity slip such times as these. Look out and don’t freeze, young un—there’s a good time cornin’.” So Joe swung himself off the stoop, and little Jemmy, left all alone, strained his eyes more wistfully than ever to catch the gleam of the fire that warmed Miss Maud Congdon’s elegant breakfastBonnie, beautiful Maud! What would envious little Jemmy have thought if he could have seen the lovely mistress of that wonderful great house, with all its stately grandeur and luxurious elegance, as she lay, not fifty yards away from him —only a street ana a massive stone wall separating them—her sunny head buried in the soft blue cushions of her chair, crying and sobbing with a passionate sense of pain and misery beyond the reach of reason to control? “ Auntie! auntie!” she called out, as her gentle friend and relative entered the room. “My child, what is the matter ! Have you seen Howard again ?” The only answer was a low moaning cry, as the sobbing girl wound her arms round her faithful friend, and buried her face in the gentle bosom that had sheltered her so often. “ Where did you meet him!” “ Last night at Mrs. Stevens’, where we went after the opera. He only came in for a moment. I was dancing at the time. He gave me one look as I passed him, but there was something in his eyes so kind and gentle that all my old love for him came back with redoubled power, and such a sense of misery poured itself upon mysoul that I wondered why God so formed His creatures that they can endure such torture and still live. Oh, auntie! did he ever love me?” “ No, darling, I do not think he ever did. He certainly admired you—as who does not!—and circumstances threw you much together; but what has Howard Langly, the hard-working clergyman, whose parish is in the poorest portion of the city, whose life is spent among the poor and suffering, listening to their complaints and ministering to their necesak ties, to do with Maua Congdon, whose talent, wealth and beauty place her in a position with which his life of care and 'toil and sacrifice can Have neither contact nor sympathy?” “ And yet, auntie, I would fling houses, lands and jewels to the winds if by so doing I could secure one glance of love and tenderness from Howard’s eyes, such as I fancied he used to give me during the happy days gone by.” “ But, Maud,” continued the gentle lady, “with all this passionate love for your cousin, with all this wild longing ior,affection from him, what have you dwer dona to show Howard that you sympathized with his efforts or understood his labors? You have never attended his church or offered to assist him in his work——?’ “ Oh, auntie, stop! My money has been his to distribute as he liked, but I cannot stoop to tricks and artifice to win his love. Would you have me emulate the admiring spinsters of his congregation, undertake district visiting, seek interviews with him in his vestry-room, follow him about among the poor, ana surfeit him/With a mawkish sentimentality under the cloak of charity and religion? Oh, no, no; I cannot do that. But how can I live without him!” “Oh, Maud, how wrong, how wicked you are! How little you understand life, with all its responsibilities, its demands for patience, self-sacrifice and unselfishness ! Can you never learn to look beyond yourself, to shake off this terrible egotism that pervades your whole existence, and in endeavoring to understand and ameliorate the woes of others, find a medicine for your own? Lift up your head now, darling, and look Out of the window. Do you see that poor little flhivering boy who is shrinking behind the'shelter of that opposite door-post, and loffiflng so wistfully over here ? Let us call him in, and listen to his story, and try to help him. It is what Howard would do.” “ Call in your, ringed boy, auntie, if you will. Is there more pain in cold and hunger, think you, than I aifi suffering now?” In a few minutes Jemmy was standing in the midst of the beautiful room, gazing first into the brilliant depths of the wonderful sea-coal fire, and then at the bright loveliness of its youthful owner. The little street Arab was bewildered by the warmth and luxury into which he had been so suddenly drawn, and irresistibly attracted by the beauty of Maud, as she asked his name in her soft, low voice. Then he went over to where she sat looking at him, and laying his hand veiy gently on her delicate dress, he said, looking earnestly into her eyes, “Is you got any little-boys?” Maud repressed an involuntary shrinking as the dirty little paw was laid upon her knee; but as she saw the piteous look in his eyes, the tears came into her own, and she answered him very gently, “ No, Jemmy; why?” “ Cos they’d be so happy;’’ and a great sigh broke from the quivering lips of the wretched little fellow. “Ahntie,” said Maud, “I think I would like to klw him if he were only clean.” “Well, Maud, have him washed. Jemmy, would you like to be washed?"

«■- A a.'" . J. X u “I’d ruther n<X,” said Jemmy, with a frightened look. “ Why ndt, you dirty boy ?” .. “We isn’t used to it, yer see, down where I lives. They does it to us sometimes at the * House of Industry.’ They killed a little feller that way last week down there. It’s werry cold, bein’ washed, and it’s so nice here!” and the tears began to roll down Jemmy’s cheeks. The prospect of being washed appalled his very soul; but when he looked at his dirty hands and soiled clothing, and at Maud’s sweet countenance as it bent over him, he reconsidered the matter, and said, “If I’ll be washed, will you kiss me?”. “Yes, indeed, Jemmy," replied Maud; “ aad we will have no cold water either. Would you like to be my little boy, you poor little thing?” Maud’s heart was melting toward Jemmy very fast, and when she saw the radiant expression that illuminated his face at her suggestion, she forgot her weariness, pain and passion for the moment, in the happiness of the friendless little boy. “May I, missus—really—really?” Poor little Jemmy could hardly bring himself to believe that anything so wohderfuj could really happen. “ Really and truly,” repeated Maud, smiling down upon him. “ And if you will go bow and be washed, I will go home with you and ask if I may have you. Wha owns you, Jemmy ?” “ Only mar, and she’s got six of us.” “And can spare one easily,” laughed Maud. An hour afterward Jemmy and Maud made their way down Broadway, through Worth street to Baxter. Oh, the nauseous smells, the sickening sights and sounds, the loathsome horror, of the place! Jemmy led her into one of the rickety old tenements, and in the highest story she found a wretched family huddled together in one room, and a haggard, sickly woman came forward, whom Jemmy called “mar.” The bargain was soon concluded, the hopeless mother only too glad to accept the kindness offered to her child, for whom she could do so little. As Maud turned away and commenced the descent of the dingy staircase, a tall figure in closely-fitting clerical uniform blocked the way, and, looking up, she saw the strong, quiet features and Beautiful eyes of Howard Langly. “ Maud, what brought you here?” “ Please, sur, she came to git me, and I’m her little boy,” explained Jemmy, who dreaded something might interfere with Maud’s arrangements regarding his small self. “ Jemmy has told you, Howard. lam proposing to subtract this small fraction from the great sum of human wretchedness;” and she laid her hand gently on the head of the boy. “ But what brings you to this part of the city ? Your parish is on the west side of the town.” “ Yes, but I was sent for this morning by a poor creature here whom I knew formerly. He is lying sick in the room above us, wretched, suffering and alone. It will be a hard winter for the poor, so many are out of employment, and, early as it is, the weather is bitterly cold. We shall have a hard struggle to combat the wretchedness and disease that cold and hunger bring in their train, and, great efforts must be made to bring assistance to the poor creatures.” “ Could I help you, Howard?” “Do you really wish to?” And an eager, questioning look came into his eyes, accompanied with a glance of admiration such as he had never bestowed upon her before. “ I will try, if you will tell me how.” “ Was it kindness to that poor boy that brought you to Baxter street to-day, Maud?” “Yes, Howard,” smiled Maud; “it was affection for Jemmy, pure and simple, that sprang into existence upon an acquaintance of half an hour, which made me forsake the sacred precincts of the Avenue and come to Baxter street to-day. Have I your approval, most reverend sir ?” “ God bless you, dear!” What a wealth of tenderness went into those four words! Thdn, with a single clasp of the hand, he stepped aside to let her pass, and Maud went On, with Jemmy clinging to her skirts. What had happened to Baxter street? Whence had come the light that lit up the loathsome tenement until it shone like a palace? what made the filthy sidewalk seem a path through fairyland? and whence came the glory that gilded the horrible surroundings with such a strange and wonderful beauty? Only Maud saw the illumination, and she thought it came from the light in Howard Langly’s eyes. Thus Jemmy went to live in the Fifth avenue with Maud, whom he worshiped with all the strength of his grateful little heart. He had a coat now full of bright buttons, like that of the wonderful Jeems, Joe used to tell him about. His principal duty was to open the great doors of the vestibule for the entrance of Miss Congdon’s guests. And the one who sought admission oftenest and received the warmest welcome was the Rev. Howard Langly. Maud’s first expedition to Baxter street was not her last. The barriers of indolence and selfishness that inclosed her heart had been shaken by the appealing touch of Jemmy's little hand, and melted away altogether through the ennobling influence of Howard’s grave and earnest teaching. More and more chilly grew the searching winds, coming steadily from the north; louder were heard the sad stories of privation and suffering among the poor; and, cold and grim and bitter, the winter settled down upon the city. Faithfully and earnestly Howard worked day by day, endeavoring to alleviate, so far as lay in his power, the misery he saw around him; and Maud shook herself free of the many claims that society made upon her, to follow him in his wanderings and assist him in his arauoue work. Bide by side they breasted culd and sleet and snow to carry comfort and consolation to the wretched homes where disease and destitution were holding their horrid carnival. Together they set themselves to work to arrest the progress of the war of destruction waged against their helpless fellow-beings oy starvation and sickness, stalking together hand in hand. Many a hungry mouth they fed, many a shivering form they clothed, and many a bitter and despairing heart they cheered and comforted. But to Maud and How ard it seemed as if little had been accomplished by their earnest effortsin compar ison with all there was to do, and their hearts were often heavy with the thought when they returned to their homes in the gray twilight, weary with their day’s work. When Maud reached her house at evening, after her visits among her poor friends, Jenuny was always waiting at the door ready to receive her, full of eager questions ana overwhelming in bis loving attentions. Then he would follow her to her room, and, after convincing himself that she had everything about her that could contribute to her comfort, she would

creep quietly down-stairs and waft pa tiently for her to appear. “Jemmy,you little fire-worshiper,”ex-claimed Maud, one evening, as, rested and refreshed by a bath and a fresh toilet, she entered the drawing-room and found the child standing upon the hearth, gazing earnestly into the depths of the brilliant fire. “What are you thinking about?” “Thinking how nice and warm and comfortable it is here, and how dreadful it used to be out in the streets all alone in the cold:” and Jemmy shuddered at the recollection of his old, sorrowful life, and the tears came into his eyes. “ Oh, Miss Mand, you are so good to me, and 1 love you so!” Then he came close to where she stood, and softly kissed the hand that hung at her side on a level with his lips. “Dear little Jemmy! Have I made you happy, little boy, since I have had you wliji me ?" And she knelt down beside him and drew him tenderly to her breast. Thus Howard found them, locked in each other’s afms, with'the ausky shadows of twilight gathering around, and the ruddy fire-light gleaming on their happy faces. Tenderly he bent over them, and, gently raising'Maud, transferred the clinging hold of her yielding hands from the neck of the boy to his own broad shoulders. “ Will you give her to me, Jemmy ?” “No,” said Jemmy, stoutly; and as Howard led her to a sofa and seated her by his side, the boy followed them, and buried his head in her lap. “Half of her, then, Jemmy?” smiled Howard. “Y-e-s, half—perhaps,” said Jemmy, his regara for Howard struggling hard with jealousy in his generous little soul. And thus, with Jemmy’s arms around her neck and Howard’s round her waist, Maud sat, subdued and silent with the sense of her own exquisite happiness, until Jeems. The Magnificent, in all the glory of holiday attire and preternaturally shiny boot legs, broke in upon the quiet scene, and announced, in his most solemn tone, “Dinner!" “ Oh, horror!” shrieked Mrs. Grundy—“only the assistant at St. Jerome’s.” — Harper's Weekly.