Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > British minstrel, and musical and literary miscellany

MUSICAL AND LITERARY MISCELLANY.
107
broken-spiiitod to venture aii apiilication to a quar.
ter, from whence any slight hope that she mi2;ht
otherwise have entertained, was entirely banished
by the recollection that the penalty had been in-
curred through a relation of her own.
" Why should I go to him ?" said poor Mary to
herself, when referred by DIr. Barniu'd, her hus-
band's creditor, to lier wealthy fatherin-law — "why
trouble him? He will never pay my brother's debt:
he would only turn me from his door, and, perhaps,
speak of Walter and VVilliam in a way that would
break my heart." And with her little daughter in
her hand, she walked slowly back to a small room
that she had hired near the gaol, and sate doT\ n
sadly and heavily to the daily diminishing millinery
work, which was uovv' the only resource of the once
lia])py family.
In the afternoon of the same day, as old Mr.
Jervis was seated in a little summer house at the
end of his neat gardoi, gravely smoking his pipe
over a tumbler of spirits and water, dehling the
delicious odour of his honeysuckles and sweet-briars
by the two most atrocious smells on this earth — the
fumes of tobacco and of gin — his meditations, pro-
bably none of the most agreeable, were interrupted,
first by a modest single knock at the front-door,
which, the intermediate doors being open, he heard
distinctly, then by a gentle parley, and, lastly, by his
old housekeeper's advance up the gravel walk, fol-
lowed by a very young girl, who approached him
liastily yet tremblingly, caught his rough hand with
her little one, lifted up a sweet face, where smiles
seemed breaking through her tears, and, in an atti-
tude between standing and kneeling— an attitude of
deep reverence — faltered, in a low, broken voice, one
low, broken word — "Grandfather!"
"How came this child here?" exclaimed Mr.
Jervis, endeavouring to disengage the hand which
Susan had now secured within both hers — "how
dared you let her in, Norris, when you knew my
orders respecting the whole family ?"
"How dared I let her in?" returned the house-
keeper — "how could I help it ? Don't we all know
that there is not a single house in the town where
little Susan (heaven bless her dear face !) is not wel-
come? Don't the very gaolers themselves let her
into the prison before hours and after hours ? And
don't the sheriff himself, for as strict as he is said to
be, sanction it? Speak to your grandfather, Susy
love — don't be dashed:" and, with this encouraging
exhortation, the kind-hearted housekeeper retired.
Susan continued, clasping hergrandlather's hand,
and leaning her face over it as if to conceal the tears
which poured down her cheeks like rain.
" What do you want with me, child ?" at length
interrupted Mr. Jervis in a stern voice. " What
brought you here?"
" Oh, grandfather! Poor father's in prison ! "
"I did not put him there," observed BIr. Jervis,
coldly ! " you must go to Mr. Barnard on that affair."
"Mother did go to him this morning," replied
Susan, "and he told her that she must apply to
you "
" Well!" exclaimed the grandfather, impatiently.
" But she said she dared not, angry as you were
with her — more especially as it is through uncle
Walter's misfortune that all this misery has hap-
jiened. Mother dared not come to you."
" She was right enough there," returned Mr Jer-
vis. " So she sent you ?"
" No, indeed, she knows nothing of ray coming.
She seat me to carry home a cap to Mrs. Taylor,
who lives in tne next street, and as I was passing
the door it came into my head to knock — and then
Mrs. Norris brought me here — Oh, grandlather ! I
hope I have not done wrong! I hope you are not
angry ! but if you were to see how sad and pale
poor father looks in that dismal prison; and poor
mother, how sick and ill she is, how her hand
trembles when she tries to work. Oh, grandfather I
if you could but see them you would not wonder at
my boldness."
"All this comes of trusting to a speculating knave
like Walter Price !" observed Mr. Jervis rather as a
soUloijuy than to the child, who, however, heard and
replied to the remark.
" He was very kind to me, was uncle Walter !
He put me to school to le.irn reading and writing,
and cyphering, and all sorts of needle work ; not a
charity-school, because he wished me to be amongst
decent children, and not ti learn bad ways. And
he has written to ofl'er to come to prison himseli', if
lather wishes it; and indeed, indeed, grandfather,
my uncle Walter is not so wicked as you think for —
indeed he is not."
" This child is grateful !" was the thought that
passed through her grandfather's mind, but he did
not give it utterance. He, however, drew her closer
to him, and seated her in the snmmer-house at his
side. " So you can read and write, and keep ac-
counts, and do all sorts of needle-work, can you, my
little maid ? And you can run of errands, doubtless,
and are handy about a house. Should you like to
live witli me and Norris, and make my shirts, and
read the newspaper to me of an evening, and learn
to make puddings and pies, and be my own little
Susan ? Eh ? Should you like this ?"
"Oh, grandfather!" exclaimed Susan, enchanted.
"And water the flowers," pursued Mr. Jervis,
" and root out the weeds, and gather the beau-pots ?
Is not this a nice garden, Susy?"
"Oh, beautiful! dear grandfather, beautiful!"
" And you would like to live with me in this
pretty house and this beautiful garden ; should you
Susy T
" Oh yes, dear grandfather !"
"And never wish to leave me?"
" Oh, never ! never !"
" Nor to see the dismal gaol again — the dismal,
dreary gaol ?"
" Never ! — but father is to live here too ?" en-
quired Susan, interrupting herself — " father and
mother?"
" No !" replied her grandfather — " neither of
them. It was you whom I asked to live here with
me. I have nothing to do with them, and you must
choose between us."
" They not live here ! I to leave my father and
my mother — my own dear mother, and she so sick !
my own dear father, and he in a gaol ! Oh, grand-
father, you cannot mean it ; ycm cannot be so cruel !'
" There is no cruelty in the matter, Susan. I give
you the offer of leaving your parents, and living with
me; but 1 do not compel you to accept it You are
an intelligent little girl, aud perfectly capable of
choosing for yourself. But I begyou to take notice
that, by remaining with them, you will not only
share, but increase their poverty; whereas, with me
you will not only enjoy every comfort yourself, but
relieve them from the burthen of your support."
" It is not a burthen," replied Susan, lirmly — " I
know that, young, and weak, and ignorant as I am
now, I am yet of some use to my dear mother, and
of some couiforl to my dear iUthcr; and every day I