Lucy (Chapter_07)

Lulled by these sounds, Lucy sunk into a sleep that was perturbed and restless, often starting, and { ?}so piteously, that the good Richard could not sleep, but sat watching by her, till past midnight. The next morning when Becky, stole softly to the bed, she found Lucy in a high fever, and when she awoke, she complain'd of a shivering and pain in all her bones, and on attempting to rise, her head turn'd so, she could not stand, and was forced to be down again. Richard, had eat his breakfast and gone out to his days work. The children were gone into the Slashes, to cut wood and pick up chips, and all was quiet in the cabin. Becky, set her little table by the bed-side, and press'd the poor stranger to her food, who tried to eat, but could only swallow a little tea. While the good woman, nursed her infant, and persued her house-hold duties, Lucy had time to ponder on her sad situation. What could she do? Nothing!--Here she must be totaly dependant on the charity, of those who were themselves, subjects of charity. Her fever every moment increased, and soon took from her the power of thinking, and inflicted the more acute, but less distracting pains of the body. She took no nourishment, and only drank a little cold water, and was so bewilder'd in her mind, that she did not know where she was, often calling Becky, "dear Mother," as she held her hand. Towards evening her fever went off and she fell into a sweet-sleep. When the children came home, their mother gave them the {baked?} crackers, which she could not persuade Lucy to take, on condition they would sit still; and make no noise. Such a rarity as wheat bread, or biscuit, being as much valued by them, as plumb-cake is by the children of the wealthy. Soon after sun-set, Richard, return'd from his day's work, he seem'd overcome with fatigue, and drawing his chair close by the fire, in order to{ dry his shoes?}, and rubbing his hands as he stoop'd over the blaze, he look'd round for our poor invalid,["What, is the young woman, gone?" said he. ["Gone indeed, no nor likely to go for ane while, why from { ?}she has been in such a taking, as you never see--chills, and aches, {? } a raging fever. And's whats to be done, is more than I can tell. It will go hand outs-------------------------(can not read last line)

After working hard all day, to have ne'er a bed to lie down on at night--not even a blanket, for {since I have not,?} a rag, but whats in use already--And whats to be done about my going out to work I does'nt know, she's in no condition to be left to the children--get work I must, or how will the pot-boil?" ["Certainly you must not leave her; it was God directed her steps here, and he who provided this poor shelter for her, will provide the needful." ["Well Daddy, since you seem so willing to keep the poor soul, tho' we be so scant for oursels, belike you have made a pretty penny today and that your coach be full of money." ["Not one cent, --not one cent Becky! tho' I finished this afternoon the good job, that I told you of." ["What the thirty cords of wood, for Mr X that keeps the great tavern?" ["The same child, I sawed and piled away in his cellar the last cord, this afternoon, and went to him for the money, which he had promised to pay in a lump being a good thirty dollars. --But says he, "old man, you must wait a bit longar, for what with house-rent, new furniture, and laying in of provisions, I hav'nt one cent left;" and seeing me look blank like, "poh, poh," said he, "dont be down hearted Richard, you shall have your money, when I get it myself-Congress meets next month--I expect the matter of twelve or fifteen members, and shall be able to pay you by the end of the first week." ["But meanwhile master" says I, "what am I , and wife and children to do for victuals, for you know I have been more than a month working for you, without drawing a cent, and bring meanwhile, on a little change, I had put bye, for sickness, or troubles, and if you believe me Sir, thats all gone, I bought a hock of meat, with the last quarter a dollar I had--["Why old man," says he, "go on credit, as your betters do." ["Thats but a bad way to go, as many of my betters, in the limits, would tell you. ["There's no use in all this talking," says he--" I hav'nt the money. ["If I had known as much, I could have jobbed about, and got paid every night when I went home; but knowing you to be a prosperous man, Sir, and taking you to be an honorable gentleman, I thought getting my money all in a lump, would advantage me,--but now--whats to be done? for all my little savings, for a rainy day, are gone; -------______________________________________page cut off

have I to get a little meal for their supper even! ["I tell you" says he, "my house will be full of members, and money will come in plenty, you shall have yours, and I will get you some nice jobs in the bargain."

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I turn'd to go away, but Miss Ann, bless her soul, said "wait a minute Uncle Richard, you shan't go quite empty handed." and then away she ran, and came back with a great dish of cold victuals and broken bread, with which she cram'd my pockets full, see", continued he, emptying his pocket on the table, "this is of God sending, not my earning, Becky so learn to trust the Lord, and be sure he who feeds the young Ravens, will not let us perish if we trust in him!" [Why to be sure" says Becky, "we have been wonderfuly supported, thanks to your hard-working day and night, and to the kind ladies and gentle men you worked for.--["oh my dear wife, how long will you be looking to the instrument --------------------------------?

As well might you say that my {cow ?}had supported you but what could that have done, if not used and directed by my {farm?{ just as little Becky could I have done, had it not been for the goodness of God, who gave me strength and health to use my hands. In one moment, this arm might be broken, and then Becky of what use would the saw be of--No, no, my child, it is not my hard-work, it is God, who supports, and feeds and cares for us, and till you know and believe that, you will have many a heart-ache about these little ones". ["Indeed, then daddy its what I have at this very moment. For tell me now, what are we to do, without a cent to get a days victuals--without bedding for ourselves, what are we to do with that poor sick body, that must have care and tendance, and nice things, liken she cant lift her finger to help herself, and as for cloaths poor thing, she hasn't hardly a change of 'em, for I sarch'd her bundle. Tell me then whats a body to do, in such a case?" ["Trust in God." But how will that make the pot boil? I ask you that." ["How? Why how my child did the poor widow do, when the prophet asked her for a morsel of bread? why at first she said as you say, "as the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but only a handful of meal, in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse and behold I { ?} gathering two sticks, that I may go and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it and die." And the Prophet said, "Fear not--the barrel of meal shall not { ?} nor the cruse of oil fail"--"And the same Prophet, says the same to you, "fear not"--this poor young creature was led hither by God, as much as the prophet Elijah was led by him to the poor widow, and if you will believe, as she believed, fear not, our meal and our oil will not give out." ["Well," said Becky, who dearly loved and willingly submitted to her husband, "be it as you say--tho' I had bein a thinking all day long, of sending her to the poor-house." {"And could you have the heart to do that, when I have so often heard you say, you would rather work your bones out than go there. Would that be doing to others, as we would that others should do to us." ["Well to be sure, you are mighty strict, far stricter I reckon than many a rich christian would be"

["And sure thats very natural Becky--seeing as how the rich and the great, know very little what the poor suffer, and so they can't have a fellow feeling for them--But we who have, been pinch'd with cold and hunger, know how cruely those suffer who have no food and no clothes--But how can people who knows not what it is to have their finger ends ache with cold--who have great warm fires, and down beds, and cloth and furs on them, how can they know I say, what a pain there is in praying? And besides, they who sit down to tables loaded and smoking with victuals, so that it farely takes away their appetite to see or smell it, and who know not what it is to feel hungry--how can they in the nature of things know the agony, the gnawings of starvation? "So you see Becky, if they 'ant so mindful of the poor, one must excuse them--But we who have felt, hunger and cold, we would be without excuse, if we turn'd such a poor wanderer from our door." ["Well then, its to be hoped the { ?} will bring us some food, for where else it is to come from the Lord knows, seeing after all your hard works, you get no money, I can't leave this poor thing to go out to the places I am engaged to do days work, and so belike they'll take some other in my place, and I shall live at this rate, the bird in the hand--and the bird in the back too." ["Why after all, said Richard, "things 'ant so bad Wifey--Congress will soon meet, and then how ever it turns out about the washing, I shall be sure to get a plenty of work. I can get a place, as coachman or waiter any day I please, either among the quality or at Taverns--By the month or by the day--I can make my three dollars a day at any of the secretaries, on their dinner days, for you know they count me an excellent waitor, and as much at the house of other quality just for tending at an evening party." ["Thats the plan I should prefer," said Becky, "for then we see you part of every day and none of the ladies hardly ever lets you come home, with just your money, you always brings home from the dinners, a sight of broken victuals; and if you get jelly and cakes, and the like, it will serve right well for this poor body.--I'am sure, one might most set up shop, with all Mr. M d n, gives you, God bless her dear generous soul. _____________________?