Chapter V

"If there is anything I hate on earth,
It is a ranting, tattling, prattling jade,
Who gossips all day long, and fattens on
Her neighbors' foibles, and at night lies down
To dream some ghostly tale, and rises soon
To bawl it through the town as good and true."

Hast ever attended a Ladies' Sewing Circle, reader, and witnessed the benevolent proceedings of the matrons, spinsters, and young maidens, for the poor, benighted heathen on the far-distant shores of Hindostan, or the benighted millions who sit in the "region and shadow of death" on the desert plains of Ethiopia? And while thou hast heard the lady president plead so eloquently for those nations, who, groaning in their self-forged chains, bow to the great Moloch of superstition and idolatry, as to "draw tears of blood," as it were, from the eyes of her rapt and devoted listeners, hast ever marked a pale, trembling child of want totter to the door, and ask for the "crumbs that fall" from this humane society's tea-table, and heard the answer, "Begone! this is a benevolent association for the purpose of evangelizing the heathen, not to feed lazy beggars at our own doors?"

And has thy lips dared e'en to whisper,

"O for the charity that begins at home!"

Well, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" was duly congregated at Mrs. Jane Rockport's, Pleasant-street, in the town of Bellevue, on the western shore of Lake Erie. It was a rainy day,--as days for the meeting of sewing circles most always are; though why Heaven should strive to thwart benevolence is a point upon which we will not venture an opinion.

About twenty of the most zealous in the course of philanthropy, who no doubt felt the wrongs of the suffering heathen impelling them to brave the wind and rain, had assembled in Mrs. Rockport's parlor, and, after hearing a hymn composed for the occasion by the Misses Gaddies, and performed by the same interesting young ladies, and an appropriate prayer by the president, Mrs. Stebbins, the work designed for the present meeting was laid upon the table, and the several members of the little company selected articles upon which to display their benevolence, and scattered off in groups of two and three to different parts of the room, while a low, incessant hum of voices struck the ear from all quarters. It appeared the devoted ladies were exerting their tongues as well as fingers in the good cause.

"Now, do you suppose it is true?" asked Miss Jerusha Sharpwell, at length, in a raised voice, with horror and amazement depicted on her sharp-featured face.

"Why, Susan Simpson told me that Dilly Hootaway told her that little Nanny Dutton told her, 'Pa had got a nice lamb shut up in a pen, and they were going to have it killed for Christmas,'" said Mrs. Dorothy Sykes, in reply to her companion's startled exclamation.

"Enough said," returned Miss Jerusha, with a toss of her tall head; "now such things ought not to pass unnoticed, I say."

This was uttered in so loud a tone that the attention of all in the room was roused, and several voices demanded what was the matter.

"Matter enough," said Miss Sharpwell; "that thievish Oliver Dutton has stolen a sheep from the widow Orville."

"La! have you just heard of it, sister Sharpwell?" exclaimed Mrs. Fleetwood; "I knew it a week ago."

"You did, did you?" said Mrs. Sykes; "why, it was only stolen last night."

"Perhaps Mr. Dutton has stolen two sheep," suggested Mrs. Aidy.

"No doubt, no doubt," put in Miss Jerusha, much excited.

"Well, ladies," observed Mrs. Milder, "as I am perfectly sure, I may safely affirm that Mr. Dutton has stolen no sheep from Mrs. Orville."

"How do you know he has not?" demanded Sykes and Sharpwell in a breath.

"Because Mrs. Orville has no sheep," returned Mrs. Milder, quietly.

"Well, now, was there ever such a place as this is coming to be? No one can believe a thing unless they see it with their own eyes," exclaimed Mrs. Sykes, in an indignant tone. "I'm sure I heard Dutton had got a lamb for Christmas; and how could the poor critter come by it unless he stole it somewhere; and as Mrs. Orville lives alone, I thought likely he would take advantage of that, and steal it from her, for I didn't know but what she kept sheep."

"Very natural, Mrs. Sykes, that you should thus suppose," chimed in Miss Jerusha. "No one questions your honor or veracity. But what were you saying, Miss Gaddie? I thought you were speaking of Mrs. Orville's daughter that went off south a year or two ago."

"I was merely remarking that Mrs. Orville received a letter from Alice last week, and sis, who used to be acquainted with her, called to inquire after her welfare."

"Well, what did she hear?" asked Miss Sharpwell.

"Not much, did you, sis?" asked the elder Miss Gaddie of her younger sister.

"No, I didn't _hear_ much, but I _see_ enough," answered that interesting miss.

"Lord bless us, child!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "What did you see?"

"Why, Mrs. Orville was blubbering like a baby when I entered, but she tried to hush up after a while."

"Mercy to me!" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes; "her daughter must be dead or come to some awful disgrace away off there."

"No, she is not dead," said Miss Gaddie, "for her mother said she was well, and spoke of returning home next spring or summer."

"O, dear! these young girls sent off alone in the world most always come to some harm," said Miss Sharpwell, with a rueful expression of countenance.

"True, true, sister Jerusha," returned Mrs. Sykes, "what should I think of sending my Henrietta off so?"

"Sure enough, sister Sykes," said Miss Sharpwell. "We ought not, however, to forsake our friends in adversity. Let us call on Mrs. Orville, and sympathize in her affliction."

"With all my heart, sister Jerusha. I am a mother, and can appreciate a mother's feelings over a beloved child's downfall and disgrace," said Mrs. Sykes, with a distressful expression of pity distorting her countenance.

And thus in the mint of the Ladies' Benevolent Society was cast, coined and made ready for current circulation, the tale of poor Alice Orville's imaginary shame and ruin. Yet faster flew those Christian ladies' Christian fingers for the poor heathen, while they thus discussed the slang and gossip of the village.

At length the president arose, and said the hour for adjournment had arrived. She complimented the ladies on their prompt attendance and enthusiastic devotion to the good cause. "Who can tell the results that may follow from this little gathering of Christian sisters on this dark, rainy evening?" she exclaimed. "What mind can conceive the mighty influence these seemingly insignificant articles your ready tact and skill have put together, may exert on the heathen world? Even this scarlet pin-cushion may save some soul from death 'mid the spicy groves of Ceylon's isle." [Tremendous sensation, as the lady president waved the pin-ball to and fro.] "But language would fail me to enumerate the benefits this holy organization of Christians is destined to bestow on benighted Pagandom. We will now listen to a hymn from the sisters Gaddies, and adjourn to Wednesday next, at 2 o'clock, P.M., at the house of Mrs. Huldah Fleetfoot."

The hymn was sung, and the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" duly adjourned to the time and place aforementioned.

We have seen that Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Dorothy Sykes had agreed to call on Mrs. Orville, and condole with her on her daughter's disgrace; but those benevolently-disposed ladies deemed it expedient to call first at sundry places in the village and repeat the lamentable tale, probably to increase the stock of sympathy; so Mrs. Orville heard the sad story of her daughter's shame from several different sources, ere these good ladies, their hearts overflowing with the "milk of human kindness," came to sympathize in her affliction.

She received them with her accustomed urbanity and politeness, while they cast wondering glances toward each other; probably that they had not found Mrs. Orville in hysterical tears. But Miss Sharpwell, nothing daunted, and determined to sympathize, readily expressed her admiration of Mrs. Orville's fortitude of mind, that she could support herself with so much calmness, under so great an affliction.

"I do not know as I quite understand you, Miss Sharpwell," remarked Mrs. Orville, in a calm tone, and fixing her clear eyes steadily on her visitor's face. "I have experienced no severe affliction of late. I have lost no sheep, as I had none to lose."

"La! then that was all a flyin' story about Dutton's stealing your lamb," broke in Mrs. Sykes. "Well, I'm glad to find it so; but I wonder where the poor critter _did_ get it?"

"I can enlighten you on that point," said Mrs. Orville; "Mrs. Milder presented him with it for a Christmas dinner."

"_She_ did?" exclaimed Miss Sharpwell. "Why couldn't she have said so at the sewing society, the other day, then, when we were talking about it, and thus settled the matter in all our minds? I hate this sly, underhanded work. But we must not forget our errand, sister Sykes."

"By no means," observed the latter. "Dear Mrs. Orville, we are come to sympathize with you in a far greater affliction than the loss of a sheep would prove--the loss of a daughter's fair fame."

"You grow more and more enigmatical," said Mrs. Orville, smiling; "my daughter has lost neither her health nor fair fame, as you express it. I received a letter from her last week. She was well, and purposes to return home the coming summer."

"Why, goodness, is it so?" exclaimed Sykes; "we heard as how you had awful news of Alice, and were well-nigh distracted about her."

"I heard a report to that effect," said Mrs. Orville; "but whence it originated I cannot say. It has no foundation in truth."

"Well, what an awful wicked place this is getting to be! I declare it makes my blood run cold to think of it," said Miss Jerusha, with a pious horror depicted on her countenance.

"And religious prayer-meetings kept up, and a Christian sewing circle in the place too," added Mrs. Sykes. "I declare wickedness is increasing to a fearful extent. We must be going, sister Jerusha. I declare I can hardly sit still, I feel so for the sinners of this village."

"Mrs. Orville, I am glad the stories reported concerning your daughter are false, for _your_ sake," said Miss Sharpwell, as the sympathetic ladies rose to depart; but she added, in her most emphatic tone, "I tremble for the sakes of those who put those stories in circulation. Good-day, my friend."