The Factory Girl | Page 9

their repose. We say all, all save the children of want, or those who love the vigils of silence. But the location of this scene, and the cottage of which we have spoken, was not the one already noticed, but far distant from it. The village wide ly contrasted with the seclusion of rural life. Those ancient domes and halls of learning, connected as they are with many venerable names, furnished associations of thought, far from disagreeable. Then did the past, with all its scenes so transitory, rush upon the memory, furnishing in every scene its incidents of interest, and the mind held converse with each fond hope, and each sacred emotion, that sways the heart of the truly virtuous. This is the sweet hour of contemplation, and the favorable time for reflection, meditation and self-examination, or the pursuit of each hidden germ of knowledge, among the pages of cumbrous volumes.
Dimly burned the lamp upon a small table, be side which sat a student, poring over the dusty pages of a large book, which appeared to be as ancient as the original manuscript of the Philippics of the Athenian orator, but which, nevertheless, seemed to prove interesting. It was a small apart ment, and though furnished in a comfortable manner, there was plainly a deficiency in the articles of furniture usually found in the student's room. The occupant was apparently young, though his pale countenance indicated a delicate constitution, and perhaps ill health. A fine classic brow, and an agreeable expression would have attracted your attention, and the illuminations of the intellect were radiated from eyes flashing the eloquence of a noble soul. Hard study might have driven the flush from his cheek, but a studious thoughtfulness expressed itself as having taken the place once occupied by the vivacity of youth. Mental labor, almost invariably, if constantly persisted in, youth to the placid and grave paleness which characterizes students. This had apparently been the case with this young student for, that he was young, you would have at once opined, though he appeared perhaps older than he actually was. He had closed the book, and seemed to be wrapt in meditation, for a few moments, until, being admonished by the clock again as it tolled one, he prepared to retire to rest, after his private devotions. Such is the life of the student from day to day. His lessons will be required, and he must prepare himself accordingly. And to those who are prompted by a spirit of laudable emulation, it is a pleasure, even, to trim the midnight lamp, that they may gain the laurels of literary fame, though it may cost much exertion and self-denial. And who was the student thus unceremoniously introduced? our readers will very naturally in quire. It was EDWIN BARTON, the brother of Calliste, of whom we have spoken before the only brother of the young Factory Girl. He was in college, pursuing his studies, preparatory to his professional education. But how came he there? you may inquire and now we come to the first corner of our narrative. A sister's love placed him there and this was the grand object that caused Calliste to leave her home, and all dear to her, to take upon herself voluntarily, the duties in which she had engaged. A Factory Girl placed him there paid his expenses mostly, preparatory to entering, and now sustained him, save what his precarious health enabled him to acquire by teach ing. For this had Calliste ardently wished. She now saw him a sophomore in college, he having entered one year in advance. Encouraged by his proficiency, she was prepared to make any sacrifices in her power to accomplish her cherished enterprise.
And has not the Factory Girl a noble spirit, we ask, who labors thus for the good of others denying herself the pleasures and luxuries of life, to accomplish the great object to which she has devoted her attention, her time, her talents, and the labor of her hands? Are not such worthy of our highest praise and our most profound respect? And this is only an isolated case, one among thousands of a similar character which are yearly transpiring. But we shall revert to this subject again, in a more extended and detailed manner.
But we propose, in few words, to notice the character and circumstances of the young student, as we think it not foreign to our subject, and we ask the indulgence of our readers while we show them, thus far, the results of the enterprise of Calliste.
From his early years, Edwin Barton had never enjoyed firm health, but a naturally delicate con stitution was more the cause, than any particular disease. He had early developed the elements of a strong mind, and genius fired his eye. He had