Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
General
Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
American literature -- Massachusetts -- Lowell; American literature -- Women authors; Working class women -- Literary collections
Still it avails her little; she is again remanded to the dungeon, and
there awaits her doom.
At length they bring her the panoply of war, the armored suit in which
she went forth at the king's right hand to fight their battle hosts. Her
heart thrills, and her eye flashes, as she looks upon it--for it tells
of glorious days. Once more she dons those fatal garments, and they find
her arrayed in the habiliments of war. It is enough for those who wished
but an excuse to take her life, and the Maid of Orleans is condemned to
die.
They led Joan to the martyr-stake. Proudly and nobly went she forth, for
it was a fitting death for one like _her_. Once more the spirit may
rouse its noblest energies; and with brightened eye, and firm, undaunted
step, she goes where banners wave and trumpets sound, and martial hosts
appear in proud array. And the sons of England weep as they see her, the
calm and tearless one, come forth to meet her fate. They bind her to the
stake; they light the fire; and upward borne on wreaths of soaring
flame, the soul of the martyred Joan ascends to heaven.
ELLA.
SUSAN MILLER.
CHAPTER I.
"Mother, it is all over now," said Susan Miller, as she descended from
the chamber where her father had just died of _delirium tremens_.
Mrs. Miller had for several hours walked the house, with that ceaseless
step which tells of fearful mental agony: and when she had heard from
her husband's room some louder shriek or groan, she had knelt by the
chair or bed which was nearest, and prayed that the troubled spirit
might pass away. But a faintness came over her, when a long interval of
stillness told that her prayer was answered; and she leaned upon the
railing of the stairway for support, as she looked up to see the first
one who should come to her from the bed of death.
Susan was the first to think of her mother: and when she saw her sink,
pale, breathless, and stupified upon a stair, she sat down in silence,
and supported her head upon her own bosom. Then for the first time was
she aroused to the consciousness that she was to be looked upon as a
stay and support; and she resolved to bring from the hidden recesses of
her heart, a strength, courage, and firmness, which should make her to
her heart-broken mother, and younger brothers and sisters, what _he_ had
not been for many years, who was now a stiffening corpse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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