. The Hoosier schoolmaster; a novel . d to her that she could gladly dienow, if she could die with that flaxen head uponher bosom. And so, in spite of the opposition of Bill Jonessson, who threatened her with every sort of evil ifshe left, Ralph wrapped Mrs. Thomsons blue drill-ing in Nancy Sawyers shawl, and bore the feeblewoman off to Lewisburg. And as they drove away,a sad, childlike voice cried from the gratings of theupper window, Good-by ! good-by ! Ralphturned and saw that it was Phil, poor Phil, forwhom there was no deliverance. And all the wayback Ralph pronounced mental maledictions
. The Hoosier schoolmaster; a novel . d to her that she could gladly dienow, if she could die with that flaxen head uponher bosom. And so, in spite of the opposition of Bill Jonessson, who threatened her with every sort of evil ifshe left, Ralph wrapped Mrs. Thomsons blue drill-ing in Nancy Sawyers shawl, and bore the feeblewoman off to Lewisburg. And as they drove away,a sad, childlike voice cried from the gratings of theupper window, Good-by ! good-by ! Ralphturned and saw that it was Phil, poor Phil, forwhom there was no deliverance. And all the wayback Ralph pronounced mental maledictions on theDorcas Society, not for sending garments to theFive Points or the South Sea Islands, whichever itwas, but for being so blind to the sorrow and pov-erty within its reach. He did not know, for he hadnot read the reports of the Boards of State Chari-ii l62 THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-MASTER. ties, that nearly all alms-houses are very much likethis, and that the State of New York is not betterin this regard than Indiana. And he did not know. GOD HANT FORGOT us, MOTHER. that it is true in almost all other counties, as it wasin his own, that Christian people do not thinkenough of Christ to look for him in these lazar-houses. And while Ralph denounced the Dorcas Society, A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 163 the eager, hungry heart of the mother ran, flewtoward the little white-headed boy. No, I can not do it; I can not tell you about thatmeeting. I am sure that Miss Nancy Sawyers teatasted exceedingly good to the pauper, who hadknown nothing but cold water for years, and thatthe bread and butter were delicious to a palate thathad eaten poor-house soup for dinner, and coarsepoor-house bread and vile molasses for supper, andthat without change for three years. But I cannot tell you how it seemed that evening to MissNancy Sawyer, as the poor English lady sat inspeechless ecstasy,rocking in the old splint-bottomedrocking-chair in the fire-light, while she pressed toher bosom with all the might of h
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