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CHAPTER TWELFTH.

SOME OF EVE'S FAMILY.

"I thank Heaven I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. -SHAKSPEARE.

"The wistful mother, anxious for her race,

Prays Heaven to grant the blessing of―a face;
Yet Vane could tell what ills from Beauty spring,
And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a king."

POPE.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever!"-KEATS. "They talks o' Woman this, and Woman t'other; but I take it she's like the rest of us-human natur! And natur will be natur, after all."-Not SAM SLICK.

"I CAN'T bear so much as to think about it. You that hasn't been used to nothing of the kind, as a body might see with half an eye; and you're noway well altogether neither, ma'am ; excuse me saying so."

Harriette Steyne made but a poor attempt at a smile; and as good Crump was proceeding in his animated protest, she laid her hand upon his arm. "My good friend, she said gently, "I am sure you wish us well, you have always been kind to the children, that is why I asked you there is no help for it; it must be. Will you be so kind as to do this for me ?" "Eh Mrs. Steyne! God bless you and the young ones too!-Do it? why for sure I will, and as much again, and twenty times; only it goes to my heart

with them little white fingers of your'n, stitched over as they be a'ready-to think of you washing great, heavy, coarse men's shirts, and such-like."

"Never mind that, Mr. Crump: the sewing was better while I could get it; but the families are all leaving now you see for the winter, and there is nothing to do; and the washing I think will pay as well, if I can do it."

"Eh! do it! and wi' that cough, and you forced to sit down every minute again! Eh do, there's a dear lady, rest you a-bit, and let things take their own way, then they'll mend for sure."

"I have said that too long, Mr. Crump; but, thank you for your kindness, you will speak to them, then? "Aye, will I, and bring it to you too, though I shall hate myself for it. But if you will, why you will, I'm thinking; it's the way wi' you women. But they shan't know, none of 'em; trust me, I'll blind 'em.”

Mrs. Steyne smiled; and as he repeated his promise in taking leave, she sighed and said half to herself— "If there was nothing worse than that to know, it would not trouble me."

In a few minutes little Rose came jumping in, with Oh, mother see what dear dood Mr. Crump dave me!-see, mother, so much!"

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Half-a-crown was a large sum to the children then. Tears came into the poor mother's eyes, and Philip, taking Rose aside, held whispered council with her, which resulted in the child coming to her mother, saying, "Mother dear, I'll div you this for to det some and may I have just a penny for some new beads Phil knows where to det?

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Good Crump's liberality furnished the poor family

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with a meal that night; procured, too, the necessary materials for the brave woman to commence her repulsive labours on the following morning; when her good friend reluctantly brought her an armful of linen, disguised in shavings, from the single young men under him at the works; which, on the assurance of superior finish, and at a trifle below the usual charge, he had prevailed on them to commit to him.

“They'll be wanting to know next who it be for," he muttered to himself, " and I'm a bad hand at a lie. It'll go about that we're hard up, and that Sarah's took to laundry-work. Darned if I care! and upon my soul I'd a'most sooner it was her than this one. To see how she thanked me, and her eyes shone, just as it might ha' been a present I'd give her. My word I ha' got less thanks for many a present! Eh, what a wife for a man! And there's that brute yonder-I'd fain knock the life out of him-I could so! Now if my Sarah had been like her-___99

But, as if conscious he was on dangerous ground, Crump reined in the flying courser of his thought, and relieved his mind on the score of Sarah's shortcomings, by chastising one of her offspring, whom he encountered stoning a frog in a ditch, and sending him home to his mother; who thereon founded a discourse of half an hour's duration, with which she edified her gossip, Mrs. Darby, on the fruitful theme of men's ' tantrums,' and evil-doing in general, and her husband's in particular.

Meanwhile, father being gone, as most generally fell out, for the day, copper-fire was lighted, tubs prepared, water fetched from the spring, and the woman began her self-imposed task.

All the day long she toiled; little Philip ever her right hand seeing before she asked; bringing, long required all she could need. He gathered the vegetables, and prepared them; he went to the village, and invested most cleverly their remaining threepence in meat, running all the way there and back, and resisting all Rose's entreaties—the hardest thing for Phil to do-because they would be so long, and mother would want him.

So the wilful beauty sat in the porch, crying and slapping her tiny knees in despair, till he returned, when her affections were divided between "My Phil," and the string of brilliants he brought her.

The house was swept up, the dinner cooked, the fractious little face washed, and the curly air restored to order, before the good lad thought of sitting down to the society of his beloved Scipio, Curtius, and such ancient worthies of his heart. Even then his attention was not unfrequently claimed for the purpose of hearing Rose say her letters, a task of which he acquitted himself with infinite good grace.

In fact, Philip's not least arduous duties lay in amusing and caring for little Rose. The child, so long accustomed to petting and notice, felt neglected, the sense of trouble in the house oppressed her, and she was not unfrequently wayward and petulant to a degree. But her brother never wearied; the little fairy seemed the sunshine of the rough boy's existence; it was as natural for him to yield and comfort, as for the tiny woman to exact and complain.

"Mother's so tired, Rosey," said Philip, as the child scrambled into her lap, after dinner was over. "Come and sit on Phil's knee, there's a darling."

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"I want my father, I do," said Rose: "he never tomes home now to him's dinner, never."

Philip lifted her to his knee, and coaxed her attention; while the mother wiped the moisture from her pale face, and in a few minutes resumed her laborious task.

Through that day steadily, till the time at which her husband usually returned, when all was carefully put aside, and she and home ready to receive him.

For he seldom was beyond midnight, and when there was any supper in the house he shared it with her; sometimes contributing a portion, and at the week's end a small sum generally found its way home, sufficient, perhaps, to provide a dinner for the next day.

He was not boisterous or noisy in his drink; with all his faults he had never ill-treated her or the children more than by neglect, in his worst fits his hand had never been raised against them. He had always a smile and caress, in his maudlin degeneracy, for his pretty Rose. Philip he rarely noticed, though the boy abated nothing of his attention and respectful care. None could know what his young heart suffered, or how, as day by day he saw his mother grow paler and more sad, he devised fresh plans for his father's redemption; at times silently acting them out, and seeing them failing in succession.

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Oh, I do want my father!" sighed little Rose, one evening, when the children had rambled to the beach, hand in hand, watching the sunset.

"I wish he'd come home, like he used to, Rosey. Wasn't it nice then of evenings ?"

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Yes, it was; and it's so bad now!" answered the little one.

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