CHAPTER XVI.
Ethel left her uncle's house in tears, but before reaching herdestination had wiped them away and assumed an air of determinedcheerfulness. Mrs. Baker gave her a kindly reception, said she was gladto see her, hoped she would never find reason to regret having come, andbade her sit down by the stove and get well warmed before taking off herhat and sack, for it was a cold, blustering March day.
"We'll not be likely to have much custom to-day," she remarkedpresently; "it's so raw and cold out that I should think folks that haveno particular call to go abroad would be likely to stay at home. Perhapsit's a good thing for us, as we'll have time to look over the bits ofneedlework you were telling me of. You have brought them along, Isuppose?"
"I put them in my trunk," replied Ethel.
"And that's come and been carried up to your room; and when you're rightwarm you may bring them down, if you choose."
Ethel presently availed herself of the permission, and Mrs. Baker andher mother, Mrs. Ray, both examined the work with interest. "I thinkthey are very handsome indeed, and shouldn't wonder if she'd find acustomer for them--some of them, anyhow--directly," remarked the old lady."I never saw as pretty work done by one so young."
"I quite agree with you, mother, and hope she'll make a good deal onthem," returned Mrs. Baker, with a pleasant smile into Ethel's face, nowrosy with pleasure at their warm commendation of her work. "I advise youto keep on, Ethel, as you tell me you have been doing, using sparemoments in adding to your stock, and I think you'll find it paying youwell one of these days," she continued, addressing the young girl. "Ifyou wish, I'll buy a piece of muslin for you some day soon when I'm outpurchasing goods for the store. I think maybe I can get a better bargainthan you could, seeing you are so young and not used, as I am, to suchbusiness; then I'll help you with the cutting out of the garments, sothat they'll be ready when you can find time to work on them."
"Oh, thank you, ma'am," exclaimed Ethel, tears of gratitude springing toher eyes, "you are very kind to me."
"Tut, child, I haven't done anything yet to speak of," laughed thekind-hearted woman. "But I want to do by you as I'd want anyone to do bymy little Jenny, if she should ever be left fatherless and motherless,poor little soul!" glancing with moistened eyes at her four-year-olddaughter, who was playing about the floor.
"Dear little thing!" Ethel said, holding out her hand to the child, whohad paused in her play to look wonderingly from one to the other, "shereminds me of what my little sister Nan was when God took our father andmother to heaven."
"My papa aint gone dere," lisped the little one, gazing up into Ethel'sface; "he's gone to de war to fight de rebs."
"Has he?" said Ethel; "so have two of my cousins. Oh," turning to Mrs.Baker, "I hope this dreadful war will soon be over!"
"So do I," was the emphatic rejoinder; "or rather I wish it; thingsdon't look so very hopeful just at present. But folks seem to think thenew general may be expected to make better progress against the rebelsthan the others did, I think myself it's more than likely, consideringwhat he has done out West."
"And we are all praying for him, that the Lord will give him wisdom andsuccess with his plans, so that this awful war may come to an end, andthe country be saved," said Mrs. Ray. "The men at the head of therebellion have a great deal to answer for. They were not oppressed, butwere dreadful oppressors--of the negro first, then of the whites bothNorth and South, in order to hold on to slavery, which they found soprofitable to their pockets, besides ministering to their wicked pride."
"Well, I am sure the backbone of the rebellion is broken now; they knowit can't succeed, and I for one can't see how the consciences of therebel leaders can allow them to go on with the struggle--sacrificing somany lives to no purpose," sighed Mrs. Baker. "Now, Ethel, I will showyou round the store and make you acquainted with the places of thedifferent articles we have for sale, so that you will be able to findthem when called for."
"And I must go and see to household matters," her mother said, hurryingaway in the direction of the kitchen.
Ethel was kept very busy all day, except for a little while in theafternoon, when Blanche came with Harry and Nannette to see her in hernew quarters.
Mrs. Baker received them kindly and invited them to come again forEthel's sake, and though some tears were shed by the three girls atparting, they all felt better contented than they had before.
As the days, weeks, and months rolled on, Ethel was more comfortable andfound things going more smoothly with her at Mrs. Baker's than she haddared to hope. Waiting upon customers was not repugnant to her, she wasfond of her needlework, and not averse to using the sewing-machine;though Mrs. Baker was kindly careful not to let her do too much of thatlast, lest she should injure her health; also she kindly contrived someerrand for her every day, squares away from the store, that she mighthave the benefit of outdoor air and exercise.
And there were many exchanges of visits between herself and her youngersisters and brother; occasional letters from Mrs. Keith and her motherto be read and replied to, and interesting news from the seat of war,the daily papers being eagerly searched for it by Mrs. Kay, Mrs. Baker,and herself.
With what a thrill of horror they read of the awful massacre by thesavage Forrest and his troops at Fort Pillow, taken by a resort totrickery under a flag of truce; the terrible battles of the Wilderness,Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, and others of the sanguinary conflicts ofthat last year of the war of the rebellion!
These divided Ethel's attention with her needlework, waiting uponcustomers, doing errands for Mrs. Baker, and chatting with the littleones, who were a source of entertainment, and of whom there were twoboys in addition to Jenny. They were but little fellows, going to schooluntil the summer holidays began, but full of fun and frolic when athome, and Ethel and they soon became fast friends.
One day early in the fall Ethel received a letter from Mrs. Keith, inwhich she told of the coming home of her husband, a paroled prisonerfrom Andersonville, where he had been for some time, suffering soterribly that his health seemed ruined for life. His parents and othernear relatives in Indiana were anxious to see him, she added, and theyhad decided to go out there for some weeks, taking the children withthem. She hoped the trip would prove of benefit to Mr. Keith, and thathe would return home looking and feeling more as he did before goinginto the army, for now he was so pale and thin that it almost broke herheart to look at him and hear his sad story of the barbarous treatmenthe and his fellow-prisoners had received at the hands of their crueljailors; then from that she went on to tell of the starvation, filth,exposure to the weather, and shooting down on the slightest protest,which made of Andersonville prison-pen a veritable hell upon earth.
Ethel read that part of the letter first to herself, then aloud to Mrs.Baker and Mrs. Ray, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, while herhearers wept with her.
"Ah," sighed Mrs. Baker, "God grant this cruel war may soon be over, andthat my poor husband may never be a prisoner in the hands of those worsethan savage men!"
"And oh, I hope my poor cousins, George and Albert, may escape it too!"exclaimed Ethel. "How very, very dreadful it is! how can men be socruel? worse than any wild beast."
"Oh, hark!" exclaimed Mrs. Baker. "What is it that newsboy is crying?Atlanta taken? I must have a paper!" and she rushed to the door,beckoned to the lad, and in a minute was back again with the paper inher hand, and reading aloud to her mother and Ethel.
They rejoiced together in this new proof that the Union cause wasgaining, the rebellion nearing its end.
Ethel had come to feel very much at home with these good women; thoughher wages were but small, she had succeeded so well in the disposal ofthe garments she had made on her own account and adorned with thespecimens of needlework she had brought with her, that she felt in goodspirits and very hopeful of being, at no very distant day, able to carryout her plan of starting in a business of her own and making a home forherself, her brother and sisters.
She was extremely de
sirous of doing that; yet she had become so attachedto the two good women she was with that it gave her something of aheartache to think of leaving them.
She had thought she might be able to accomplish her desire at the end ofher first year with Mrs. Baker, but her means were not sufficient, andall the friends she consulted esteemed her too young for such anundertaking; they also thought that while the war lasted she would notbe so likely to succeed as in the better times to be hoped for at itsclose. So she waited and worked on with patience and perseverance,comforting herself with the thought of the future.
In April came the glad news of Lee's surrender, which virtually endedthe war. It was glorious news to her and those she was with, as well asto all other loyal Americans, filling their hearts with joy andgratitude to the Giver of all good; but alas! how quickly followed byintense grief and indignation over the cruel and cowardly assassinationof him who had guided the ship of state through the breakers and thefearful storm that had raged about her, threatening her destruction forthe last four years.
On Saturday morning, April 15, the news reached Philadelphia,telegraphed from Washington, that President Lincoln had been shot theprevious night and had just died of his wound.
The early breakfast was over at Mrs. Baker's, the store was in order,and Ethel sitting behind the counter engaged upon a bit of needleworkwhile awaiting the coming of customers. Mrs. Ray was busy in the backpart of the house, little Jenny playing about on the pavement in frontof the door, and Mrs. Baker had gone to market, taking the two boys withher.
As Ethel's needle flew in and out, her thoughts were busy with the gladnews of a few days before--that Lee had surrendered to Grant.
"The war must be just about over," she said to herself, "and how gladdear, good President Lincoln and all the people that love the Union mustfeel! I don't think one wants to punish the rebels now, much as we havelost and suffered through the efforts of the Confederates to destroyit--the grand old Union--we just say 'They've given up now, and we will doall we can to help them to repair their losses and begin to prosperagain.' But, oh, hark! what's that the newsboys are crying?"
With the last words she dropped her work and ran to the door.
The newsboy, drawing nearer, was literally crying, sobs mingling withthe words, "President Lincoln shot----"
"Oh, what--what's that he's saying?" cried Mrs. Ray, rushing in from theback room and through the front door. "Here, boy, bring me a paper! Oh,it can't be possible that anybody'd be so wicked as to fire at thePresident! Was he much hurt?" as she took the paper from the hand of theweeping boy and gave him the money for it.
"Oh, ma'am, he's dead! he's dead! He was shot last night and died just afew minutes ago. And they've murdered two or three more o' the big menin Washington," and with the last words, accompanied by a sob, the ladpassed on, repeating his mournful cry.
"Oh, I can't believe it! I don't know how to believe anybody, even areb, could be so wicked," sobbed Mrs. Ray, hastily glancing over theheadings. "Yes, yes: here it is! but I can't believe it; it's surely ahoax; for who could be so wicked as to murder such a good, kind man asdear Mr. Lincoln?"
"I can't believe it either!" exclaimed Ethel, tears raining down hercheeks, "but read it aloud, won't you, Mrs. Ray?"
"I can't--I can't! the tears come so fast. You--you may," thrusting thepaper into Ethel's hand.
The young girl did as requested, but with many a pause to wipe away thefalling tears and check the sobs that well-nigh choked her utterance.
She had not finished when Mrs. Baker and her boys returned, all threeweeping.
"Oh, mother, mother, so you've got the news! I thought you would beforewe could get home, for it has gone over the city like wildfire, andalmost everybody's heartbroken!" cried Mrs. Baker, laying on the countera parcel she carried and wiping her streaming eyes.
"Not just everybody, mother; you forget that mean, bad woman we saw getpaid off so well in the market," exclaimed Mark, the eldest boy, hiseyes flashing through tears. "You and Miss Ethel should have seen it,grandmother. We were buying some fish for dinner, the fishwoman andeverybody round talking about the dreadful news, and most of them cryingto think of dear, good President Lincoln being murdered, when up came awoman dressed in her best--at least I should think it might be her verybest--and she says to the fishwoman, 'How much do you ask for these fineshad? I'll buy one, for I'm bound and determined to have an extra gooddinner to-day to show how delighted I am at the good news I've heard.''And what may that be?' the other woman asked. 'Why, that that oldtyrant, Abe Lincoln, is killed!' and she'd hardly got the words out whenthat big shad was flapping round her ears in the liveliest kind of away; and it went on flapping till it was all broken to pieces, her facesmeared with the fish, and her bonnet crushed and broken and soiled tillnobody would ever want to wear it again."
"Just what she deserved," said his grandmother. "I can't pity her in theleast."
"And nobody did," said Mark exultingly; "the crowd around just cheeredthe fishwoman, and groaned and hissed at the other, till she was glad tohurry away as fast as she could. There, mother, now you tell about whatwe saw and heard on Walnut Street."
"Yes," said Mrs. Baker. "As we were coming home along that street aservant girl was scrubbing off the pavement in front of one of thosebig, handsome residences, and, a gentleman going past, she hailed himwith, 'An' it's the good news we've got this marnin', sor; that ouldLincoln's shot to death an' won't nivver----' But there he interruptedher, his eyes fairly flashing with anger and his fists clenched. 'If youweren't a woman I'd knock you down!' he said in a tone as if it would bea great satisfaction to him to do it. Then the gentleman of the housecame to the door (I had seen him step to the parlor window as the girlbegan her remark) and said in a tone as if he would enjoy knocking herdown, 'You may consider yourself dismissed from my service, Bridget. Youshall never enter my doors again with my knowledge and consent. I'llhave your clothes sent out to you and you may go at once.'"
"I don't blame him," said a lady customer who had just come in; "it wasexactly what she deserved. Think of anybody being so heartless as torejoice in such a murder--the assassination of a man so patient and kindto all, desirous to have rebels forgiven who in any other country wouldbe speedily executed for their attempt to destroy the government.People's hearts are very sore," she went on, weeping as she spoke, "andno wonder they cannot and will not stand hearing any rejoicing over thisterrible calamity that has befallen the country--the dear land just savedfrom the dismemberment which threatened it! They are draping the publicbuildings with black, putting all the flags at half mast, and tying themwith crape. Men shed tears; some women will wear deep mourning as for anear relative; others rosettes of the national colors and black ribbon.I came in here to look for the ribbons needed for mine."
Ethel waited upon her and while she did so another customer came in onthe same errand. Her eyes were also wet with tears.
"Oh, isn't it dreadful?" she sobbed. "I think I could hardly feel worseif I'd lost my own father. And to think that some folks talk of theawful deed as if they were delighted that it was done. The heartlesswretches! They might know, if they had any sense, that the loyalpeople--who were just rejoicing that the dreadful fight was over and thecountry saved--can't and won't stand it. I don't know whether it's trueor not, but I just heard that a fellow who was so heartless as to beopenly rejoicing over the dastardly deed, was knocked down forexpressing his exultation and kicked along the pavement by theexasperated crowd till he was dead, and that a soldier shot down anothersuch rejoicer at one of the depots and nobody made any attempt to arresthim for it."
"Oh, those are dreadful things!" exclaimed Mrs. Kay. "It is certainlywrong to kill a man for expressing his opinion; but they should havesense enough to keep such opinions and feelings to themselves whileloyal people's hearts are so sore over this dreadful, dreadful thing."
"Well there is one comforting thought--that the dear man was certainly aChristian, ready to die, and is now done with all earth's troubles andtr
ials," said Mrs. Baker, tears of mingled joy and sorrow shining in hereyes. "How sweet the rest and peace of heaven must be to him--so worn andweary as he was with the griefs and cares of the last four dreadfulyears. We must weep for our own great and irreparable loss, and for allhe suffered before God took him home, but at the same time we mayrejoice in the blessedness that is now his in that better land."
"Yes, indeed," responded the two lady customers, one of them adding, "Idon't know how anyone can doubt that he was a Christian man, wellprepared to die; for he certainly displayed a Christian spirit towardall--even the rebels who were his deadly foes and had planned to murderhim on his way to his first inauguration. It must be a blessed changefor him; but oh, what is the country to do without him!"
"Oh, ma'am, our God still lives," said Mrs. Ray. "He is our Rock andRefuge, a very present help in trouble."
"Oh, mother, all the stores are putting black over their doors andwindows," exclaimed Mark, peering out into the street; "tying theirflags with crape too. Can't we do the same with ours?"
"Yes, yes, to be sure," she replied. "I'll go at once and buy some yardsof black stuff and we'll fasten it along under the windows of our secondstory and around the doors here."
"Get some crape for the flag, too," said her mother. "Here, I'll pay forit," taking out her purse as she spoke. "And hadn't you better lay in afresh supply of black, red, blue, and white ribbons for making therosettes? I feel sure that a great many folks will be putting them on asa sign of mourning for him--the dear, murdered President!"
"Yes, mother, I'll lay in a fresh stock, and the sooner I get off to seeabout it the better; for I'm pretty certain that there will be a greatdemand for it before the day is over," replied Mrs. Baker--and hurried onher way.
A busy day followed--a day full of sad, heart-breaking excitement. Troopswere in hot pursuit of the murderers--the one who had slain thePresident, and his confederates, him who had attacked Secretary Seward,and those who had aided and abetted them.
The newsboys' cry of "Extry! Extry!" was frequently heard, and thepapers sold rapidly. All loyal hearts rejoiced that though evidently ithad been the intention of the conspirators to slay Secretary Seward,perhaps General Grant also, both had escaped with life, though thesecretary had been severely wounded by his would-be assassin.
Cavalry and a heavy police force were speedily sent out in pursuit ofthe criminals, who were finally taken and brought back to Washington toreceive the punishment due to their crimes--with the exception of Boothwho, refusing to surrender, was shot and killed in the barn which, hehad made his hiding place.
When it was known that he was no longer at large, had not escaped withimpunity after his awful deed--people seemed to breathe more freely,their hearts to be a little less sore, though they still mourned deeplyfor the loss of their martyred President, who was borne to the graveamid the tears and lamentations of almost the entire nation. There werefew who did not mourn for him as for one very near and dear; one whoseplace could never be filled.