Helen and Arthur | Page 3

Caroline Lee Hentz
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[Illustration: I REMEMBER A TALE, SHE RESUMED]

HELEN AND ARTHUR;
OR,
Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel.
BY MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ. AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "RENA," "LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," "ROBERT GRAHAM," "EOLINE," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," ETC.
"----A countenance in which did meet Sweet records--promises as sweet-- A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles."--Wordsworth.
"I know not, I ask not, If guilt's in thy heart-- I but know that I love thee, Whatever thou art."--Moore.
Philadelphia: T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET.

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by DEACON & PETERSON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
Printed by T. K & P. G Collins.

MISS THUSA'S SPINNING-WHEEL.
CHAPTER I.
"First Fear his hand its skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid-- And back recoiled, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made."--Collins.
Little Helen sat in her long flannel night-dress, by the side of Miss Thusa, watching the rapid turning of her wheel, and the formation of the flaxen thread, as it glided out, a more and more attenuated filament, betwixt the dexterous fingers of the spinner.
It was a blustering, windy night, and the window-panes rattled every now and then, as if the glass were about to shiver in twain, while the stars sparkled and winked coldly without, and the fire glowed warmly, and crackled within.
Helen was seated on a low stool, so near the wheel, that several times her short, curly hair mingled with the flax of the distaff, and came within a hair's breadth of being twisted into thread.
"Get a little farther off, child, or I'll spin you into a spider's web, as sure as you're alive," said Miss Thusa, dipping her fingers into the gourd, which hung at the side of the distaff, while at the same time she stooped down and moistened the fibres, by slipping them through her mouth, as it glided over the dwindling flax.
Helen, wrapped in yellow flannel from head to feet, with her little white face peeping above, looked not unlike a pearl in golden setting. A muslin night-cap perched on the top of her head, below which her hair frisked about in defiance of comb or
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