The Factory Girl | Page 9

this pale student vigils keep?
To study thus, why should he care?
A sister's love had placed him there.
IT was the silent hour of midnight, late in autumn. The shrill blast
whistled around the cottage, playing a lively jig with loose shingles on
the roof, and anon moaning, as if repenting of the results of its fearful
mission. A thick veil of clouds hung over the scene, and a deluge of
rain, mingled with sleet, fell in fearful rapidity upon the frozen carpet
of earth, and at that time, when, save the commotion of the elements,
all was silent as the sub-marine cavern, the clock upon the an cient
dome pealed the hour. Locked in slumber, all, save the minds which
can appreciate the value of the "noon of thought," were enjoying 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