The Elm Tree Tales   By: F. Irene Burge (Frances Irene Burge) Smith (1826-1900)

ELM TREE TALES.

BY

F. IRENE BURGE SMITH.

Little know they who dwell 'mid rural shades, Of life's great struggles. Poverty and want In direst forms, are never seen, where bloom And verdure revel, but within the dark And loathesome cellars of the crowded town, They hide their tattered forms.

NEW YORK:

MASON BROTHERS.

1856.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by MASON BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of New York

STEREOTYPED BY Thomas B. Smith, 82 & 84 Beekman Street

PRINTED BY John A. Gray, 97 Cliff St.

PREFACE.

"There is a wisdom in calling a thing fitly. Names should note particulars." PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY.

To make the title of this book significant to you, I must transport you to a sylvan nook, far from the city's boundaries, where an old stone cottage peeps forth from the thick foliage. Down through the maple avenue you will take your pleasant route, past the willow and alder clumps, and the ancient mill, that hangs its idle arms listlessly by its sides on and on, over the little style, and the rustic bridge, which spans the rivulet, until you reach the giant elm that spreads its broad branches far and wide. Books and work are scattered about on the verdant turf, bright flowers peep forth from amid the green, and many a fair face greets you with its frank and cordial welcome. The sky is very blue and clear, and the summer's breath comes refreshingly to you through the leafy screen, as you seat yourself upon a mossy stone and join in the merriments of the happy circle gathered there. But you are quite too late for the manuscript volume which a guest from the city has been reading aloud for the amusement of the group.

Perhaps you have lost nothing, however. I have obtained permission to give it you for a more leisurely perusal. I hope it will please you.

When a stranger goes to your door seeking your regard and patronage, you naturally look for some note of introduction, which generally reads somewhat after this fashion:

"Any attentions you may bestow upon my friend , will confer an especial favor upon

"Yours truly,

" ."

BROOKLYN, October 27, 1855.

THE ELM TREE TALES.

JENNIE GRIG:

THE STREET SWEEPER.

NANNIE BATES:

THE HUCKSTER'S DAUGHTER.

ARCHIBALD MACKIE:

THE LITTLE CRIPPLE.

JENNIE GRIG,

THE STREET SWEEPER;

OR THE

VICISSITUDES OF LIFE.

JENNIE GRIG.

CHAPTER I.

Poor little girl! How sadly came her wailing tones on the frosty air, while the multitudes that hurried past were hidden from the chilling blasts by warm and furry garments!

There were some humane ones who lifted her softly from the ground, and bore her carefully to the nearest apothecary's, to examine the extent of her injuries and a slight figure clad in the deepest weeds, followed after and held the child's hand, and bathed her forehead, while the surgeon bound up the broken limb.

"She was such a pinched wee thing to be sweeping those dangerous crossings," said the lady; "no wonder the heedless crowd jostled her down, and nearly crushed her tiny body."

"Is not her consciousness returning, doctor?" continued she, addressing the surgeon, as a slight flush was beginning to be perceptible upon the little girl's cheek.

The child had lain in a kind of stupor from the time of the accident, and now, as her dark eyes slowly opened, she gazed faintly upon the curious faces that were gathered around her, until she met the sweet yet sorrowful glance of the strange lady then, bursting forth into a wild and bitter sobbing, she cried, "Who now will help my poor weak mother, and my sick and dying father! nine pennies only have I earned to day, and all is lost in the muddy street oh! who will get them bread and coals, now their Jennie can not work!"