Lucy (Chapter_20)

Clothing her face with the smiles of kindness, and tuning her voice to the accents of pity, she the next morning enter'd the chamber, in which the wanderer slept; and was somewhat disappointed on finding she was not able to rise. The exposure of the forgoing day, had brought back on poor Lucy, the racking pains, from which she had so long suffered. She could scarcely move a limb. Mrs Fairley, order'd a fire in her room, and one of her women to attend her. Told her to keep up her spirits, and she should want for nothing. Regreted that her own occupation were such, that she could not attend her, but promised to see her whenever she could, that meanwhile she should be well nursed by her woman, and be supplied from her own ward-robe and her own table, with clothes and food. Lucy could only kiss her hand, and pray God, to reward her for so much kindness to a stranger.

This history of Mrs Fairley does not suit simplicity of the Tale of humble life as it is a character from life I will {tresh?} and perhaps work it up for some other occasion

This the simpli but as it it and per

next laid stakes length way from head to foot, binding them together with slips of hickory bark. Then twisting in slips of hickory all round it, like basket-work, four or five inches high--he fill'd this great basket--or bed-stead with an abundance of old-field-grass, over which he spread, an old blanket, and call'd on all present, to come and look, what a delightful bed he had made! never were young ladies more delighted with the present of a french-bed, silk-curtains, gilded canopy and down pillows, than these children were, when their father told them, this nice bed was for them. They danced and caper'd and would not rest, till their mother lifted them in, where they laid, as she said as snug as a brood of young chickens, in a warm nest. She cover'd them with her bed-cloths, till she and Uncle George should complete their cover-lit--which she took care to make warm by adding sufficient quantity of old-field-grass, with which she lined the inside, stitching it to the matting with a coarse needle and yarn. This was the work of the whole evening, indeed it occupied them till midnight, but the time passed cheerily to all but poor Lucy, who when

she found, that it was on her account, the children were moved from their bed, and all this trouble was taken, was ever more with weakness and sorrow, wept bitterly. They all tried various ways to console her. "Dear heart now young missey, don't take on so," said Uncle George--"lack-a-day, if you had seen the sights I ha' seen you would think your sufferings nothing.--Why Missey when I used to sarve with my old master in the war, many's the day, and many's the night, for weeks and weeks, together, that we used to sleep on the cold-bare-ground, with nothing but the winter sky to cover us"--["It could'nt have been, winter skies like in the north parts then", said Richard, "for the campaign I was out with my master, that winter we took Bourgogne almost froze us to death in our tents." ["No, Uncle Richard, I was never in them parts, but God knows, no mortals could suffer more than our folks suffer'd one way and t'other, on our { ?} { ?} , in the Carolinas. That great general took Bourgogne, managed his matters better with you, than he did with us.