THE TEXAN HUNTRESS. 837 
dig up hill—moles, and all low beasts and reptiles climh 
towards the apex, Aspiration has no wings !—It climbs !— 
it does not soar !—all that even Shakspeare says is, that 
+ Aspiration breedeth wings!’ 
We mast cultivate the facility—the habit of going up will 
soon accustom us to new ideas and modes of thought that 
had never been suggested—but I wander! The relation 
which I intended to give you is a very simple one. You 
asked me how we should work? I will tell you how Z nay 
worked, and why ? 
“JT was poor as strength always is! The knaves starve 
wisdom because it is child-like! I was a daughter of New 
England—I was proud and self-reliant—I determined very 
early in my life that I would support myself! My parents, 
from whom my plan met but little sympathy, of course opposed 
violently my purpose to go to some great cotton mill, and 
work there for my own support. They were poor, too, but 
proud of an ancestral position; they could and would not resign 
it, as they supposed, to ignoble associations! We had @ long 
and bitter struggle—the amount of which was, that I learned 
to hate most heartily their cowardly apprehension of the 
‘say-so’ of the world! I carried my point, and must acknowl- 
edge that, for one day, my romantic delusion with regard 
"to the general idea of associated labor in public mills and 
manufactories, was nearly kept up—but the filth and want 
of ventilation first shocked me. 
“In a few hours after the excitement of my new posi- 
tion had passed, I began to feel myself stifled—my mouth 
was dry and my lungs suffered from the cotton-lint, which 
filled the air in infinite particles. I nearly fainted when we 
were turned loose late in the evening, and the sensation was 
little decreased when I returned to my room in one of the 
regular boarding houses. It was an affair of seven by six, 
Without a pretence of ventilation, and contained two heds. 
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