Saxe Holms Stories | Page 9

and patient demeanor, roused in
the rough sailor a sympathy like that he had always felt for women.

And to Reuben the hearty good cheer, and brisk, bluff sailor ways were
infinitely winning and stimulating.
The next day Mrs. Melville came home. In a short time the little
household had adjusted itself, and settled down into its routine of living.
When, in a few days, the great car-load of the Millers' furniture arrived,
Capt. Melville insisted upon its all going to the auction-rooms
excepting the kitchen furniture, and a few things for which Jane had
especial attachment. It brought two hundred dollars, which, in addition
to the price of the farm, and the store and its stock, gave Reuben just
nineteen hundred dollars to put in the Savings Bank.
"And I am to be counted at least two thousand more, father dear, so you
are not such a very poor man after all," said Draxy, laughing and
dancing around him.
Now Draxy Miller's real life began. In after years she used to say, "I
was born first in my native town; second, in the Atlantic Ocean!" The
effect of the strong sea air upon her was something indescribable; joy
seemed to radiate from her whole being. She smiled whenever she saw
the sea. She walked on the beach; she sat on the rocks; she learned to
swim in one lesson, and swam so far out that her uncle dared not follow,
and called to her in imploring terror to return. Her beauty grew more
and more radiant every day. This the sea gave to her body. But there
was a far subtler new life than the physical, a far finer new birth than
the birth of beauty,--which came to Draxy here. This, books gave to her
soul. Only a few years before, a free library had been founded in this
town, by a rich and benevolent man. Every week hundreds of volumes
circulated among the families where books were prized, and could not
be owned. When Draxy's uncle first took her into this library, and
explained to her its purpose and regulations, she stood motionless for a
few moments, looking at him--and at the books: then, with tears in her
eyes, and saying, "Don't follow me, uncle dear; don't mind me, I can't
bear it," she ran swiftly into the street, and never stopped until she had
reached home and found her father. An hour later she entered the
library again, leading her father by the hand. She had told him the story
on the way. Reuben's thin cheeks were flushed. It was almost more than

he too could bear. Silently the father and daughter walked up and down
the room, looking into the alcoves. Then they sat down together, and
studied the catalogue. Then they rose and went out, hand in hand as
they had entered, speaking no word, taking no book. For one day the
consciousness of this wealth filled their hearts beyond the possibility of
one added desire. After that, Draxy and her father were to be seen every
night seated at the long table in the reading-room. They read always
together, Draxy's arm being over the back of her father's chair. Many a
man and many a woman stopped and looked long at the picture. But
neither Draxy nor her father knew it.
At the end of two years, Draxy Miller had culture. She was ignorant
still, of course; she was an uneducated girl; she wept sometimes over
her own deficiencies; but her mind was stored with information of all
sorts; she had added Wordsworth to her Shakespeare; she had
journeyed over the world with every traveller whose works she could
find; and she had tasted of Plato and Epictetus. Reuben's unfailing
simplicity and purity of taste saved her from the mischiefs of many of
the modern books. She had hardly read a single novel; but her love of
true poetry was a passion.
In the mean time she had become the favorite seamstress of the town.
Her face, and voice, and smile would alone have won way for her; but
in addition to those, she was a most dexterous workwoman. If there had
only been twice as many days in a year, she would have been--glad.
Her own earnings in addition to her father's, and to their little income
from the money in the bank, made them comfortable; but with Draxy's
expanded intellectual life had come new desires: she longed to be
taught.
One day she said to her father, "Father dear, what was the name of that
canal contractor who borrowed money of you and never paid it?"
Reuben looked astonished, but told her.
"Is he alive yet?"
"Oh, yes," said Reuben, "and he's rich now. There was a man here only

last week who said he'd