"Hours of my youth! when nurtured in my breast, To love a stranger, friendship made me blest:--
Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth, When every artless bosom throbs with truth;
Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign;
And check each impulse with prudential reign;
When all we feel our honest souls disclose--
In love to friends, in open hate to foes;
No varnished tales the lips of youth repeat, No dear-bought knowledge purchased by deceit."
BYRON.
WITH what differing emotions have the deni-zens of earth awaited the approach of to-day.
Some sufferer has counted the vibrations of the pendulum impatient for its dawn, who, now that it has arrived, is anxious for its close. The vo-tary of pleasure, conscious of yesterday's void, wishes for power to arrest time's haste till a few more hours of mirth shall be enjoyed. The un-fortunate are yet gazing in vain for golden-edged clouds they fancied would appear in their horizon. The good man feels that he has accom-plished too little for the Master, and sighs that another day must so soon close. Innocent child-hood, weary of its stay, longs for another mor-row; busy manhood cries, hold! hold! and pur-sues it to another's dawn. All are dissatisfied.
All crave some good not yet possessed, which time is expected to bring with all its morrows.
Was it strange that, to a disconsolate child, three years should seem a long, long time?
During school time she had rest from Mrs. Bell-mont's tyranny. She was now nine years old; time, her mistress said, such privileges should cease.
She could now read and spell, and knew the elementary steps in grammar, arithmetic, and writing. Her education completed, as SHE said, Mrs. Bellmont felt that her time and person belonged solely to her. She was under her in every sense of the word. What an opportunity to indulge her vixen nature! No matter what occurred to ruffle her, or from what source provocation came, real or fancied, a few blows on Nig seemed to relieve her of a portion of ill-will.
These were days when Fido was the entire confidant of Frado. She told him her griefs as though he were human; and he sat so still, and listened so attentively, she really believed he knew her sorrows. All the leisure moments she could gain were used in teaching him some feat of dog-agility, so that Jack pronounced him very knowing, and was truly gratified to know he had furnished her with a gift answering his intentions.
Fido was the constant attendant of Frado, when sent from the house on errands, going and returning with the cows, out in the fields, to the village. If ever she forgot her hardships it was in his company.
Spring was now retiring. James, one of the absent sons, was expected home on a visit. He had never seen the last acquisition to the family.
Jack had written faithfully of all the merits of his colored protege, and hinted plainly that mother did not always treat her just right.
Many were the preparations to make the visit pleasant, and as the day approached when he was to arrive, great exertions were made to cook the favorite viands, to prepare the choicest table-fare.
The morning of the arrival day was a busy one. Frado knew not who would be of so much importance; her feet were speeding hither and thither so unsparingly. Mrs. Bellmont seemed a trifle fatigued, and her shoes which had, early in the morning, a methodic squeak, altered to an irregular, peevish snap.
"Get some little wood to make the fire burn," said Mrs. Bellmont, in a sharp tone. Frado obeyed, bringing the smallest she could find.
Mrs. Bellmont approached her, and, giving her a box on her ear, reiterated the command.
The first the child brought was the smallest to be found; of course, the second must be a trifle larger. She well knew it was, as she threw it into a box on the hearth. To Mrs. Bellmont it was a greater affront, as well as larger wood, so she "taught her" with the raw-hide, and sent her the third time for "little wood."
Nig, weeping, knew not what to do. She had carried the smallest; none left would suit her mistress; of course further punishment await-ed her; so she gathered up whatever came first, and threw it down on the hearth. As she ex-pected, Mrs. Bellmont, enraged, approached her, and kicked her so forcibly as to throw her upon the floor. Before she could rise, another foiled the attempt, and then followed kick after kick in quick succession and power, till she reached the door. Mr. Bellmont and Aunt Abby, hearing the noise, rushed in, just in time to see the last of the performance. Nig jumped up, and rushed from the house, out of sight.
Aunt Abby returned to her apartment, fol-lowed by John, who was muttering to himself.
"What were you saying?" asked Aunt Abby.
"I said I hoped the child never would come into the house again."
"What would become of her? You cannot mean THAT," continued his sister.
"I do mean it. The child does as much work as a woman ought to; and just see how she is kicked about!"
"Why do you have it so, John?" asked his sister.
"How am I to help it? Women rule the earth, and all in it."
"I think I should rule my own house, John,"--
"And live in hell meantime," added Mr. Bellmont.
John now sauntered out to the barn to await the quieting of the storm.
Aunt Abby had a glimpse of Nig as she passed out of the yard; but to arrest her, or shew her that SHE would shelter her, in Mrs.
Bellmont's presence, would only bring reserved wrath on her defenceless head. Her sister-in-law had great prejudices against her. One cause of the alienation was that she did not give her right in the homestead to John, and leave it forever; another was that she was a professor of religion, (so was Mrs. Bellmont;) but Nab, as she called her, did not live accord-ing to her profession; another, that she WOULD sometimes give Nig cake and pie, which she was never allowed to have at home. Mary had often noticed and spoken of her inconsistencies.
