KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



159 



fellows, no chosen companions — joined in 

 none of the innocent cabal or mischievous 

 mirth of her comrades ; and yet every one 

 liked Olive, even although cited by her 

 mistress as a pattern of sempstre s-ship and 

 good conduct — even although held up as that 

 odious thing, a model — no one could help 

 loving poor Olive, so entirely did her sweet- 

 ness and humility disarm envy and mollify 

 scorn. On leaving school, she brought 

 home the same good qualities, and found 

 them attended by the same results. To 

 Rachael Strong, the village laundress, her 

 assistance soon became invaluable. There 

 was not such an ironer in the county. One 

 could swear to the touch of her skilful fin- 

 gers, whether in disentangling the delicate 

 complexity of a point lace cap, or in bring- 

 ing out the bolder beauties of a cut-work 

 collar; one could swear to her handy-work 

 just as safely as a bank-clerk may do to the 

 calligraphy of a monied man on 'Change, or 

 an amateur in art to the handling of a great 

 master. There was no mistaking her touch. 

 Things ironed by her looked as good as new, 

 some said better ; and her aunt's trade 

 throve apace. 



But Olive had a trade of her own. Besides 

 her accomplishments as a laundress, she was 

 an incomparable needle-woman ; could con- 

 struct a shirt between sunrise and sunset ; 

 had a genuine genius for mantua-making ; a 

 real taste for millinery ; was employed in 

 half the houses round as a sempstress, at the 

 rate of eightpence a-day ; devoting by far 

 the greater part of her small earnings to 

 the comforts of her lather, a settled inha- 

 bitant of the workhouse at Aberleigh. A 

 happy man was poor William Hathaway, 

 albeit the proud and the worldly wise held 

 him in scorn ; happiest of all on the Sunday 

 afternoons, when he came to dine with his 

 daughter and her good aunt Rachael, and 

 receive the pious dole, the hoarded half- 

 pence, or the " splendid shilling," which it 

 was her delight to accumulate for his little 

 pleasures, and which he, child-like in all his 

 ways, spent like a child, on cakes and gin- 

 gerbread. There was no fear of the source 

 failing; for gentle, placid, grateful and 

 humble, considerate beyond her years, and 

 skilful far beyond her opportunities, every 

 one liked to employ Olive Hathaway. The 

 very sound of her crutch in the court, and 

 her modest tap at the door, inspired a kindly, 

 almost a tender feeling, for the afflicted and 

 defenceless young creature whom patience 

 and industry were floating so gently down 

 the rough stream of life. 



Her person, when seated, was far from 

 unpleasant, though shrunken and thin from 

 delicacy of habit, and slightly leaning to one 

 side from the constant use of the crutch. 

 Her face was interesting from feature and 



expression, in spite of the dark and per- 

 fectly colorless complexion, which gave her 

 the appearance of being much older than she 

 really was. Her eyes, especially, were full 

 of sweetness and power, and her long 

 straight hair, parted on the forehead, and 

 twisted into a thick knot behind, gave a 

 statue-like grace to her head, that accorded 

 ill with the coarse straw bonnet and brown 

 stuff gown, of which her dress was usually 

 composed. There was, in truth, a some- 

 thing elegant and refined in her coun- 

 tenance ; and the taste that she displayed, 

 even in the homeliest branches of her own 

 homely art, fully sustained the impression 

 produced by her appearance. If any of our 

 pretty damsels wanted a particularly pretty 

 gown, she had only to say to Olive, " Make 

 it according to your own fancy ;" and she 

 was sure to be arrayed not only in the very 

 best fashion (for our little mantua-maker 

 had an instinct which led her at once to the 

 right model, and could distinguish at a 

 glance between the elegance of a countess 

 and the finery of her maid), but with the 

 nicest attention to the becoming, both in 

 color and form. 



Her taste was equally just in all things. 

 She would select, in a moment, the most 

 beautiful flower in a garden, and the finest 

 picture in a room ; and going about, as she 

 did, all over the village, hearing new songs 

 and new stories from the young, and old 

 tales and old ballads from the aged, it was 

 remarkable that Olive, whose memory was 

 singularly tenacious for what she liked, 

 retained only the pretty lines or the striking 

 incidents. For the bad or the indifferent, 

 she Jiterally had no memory ; they passed 

 by her as the idle wind, that she regarded 

 not. Her fondness for poetry, and the just- 

 ness of taste which she displayed in it, ex- 

 posed poor Olive to one serious incon- 

 venience ; she was challenged as being a 

 poetess herself; and although she denied 

 the accusation earnestly, blushingly, and even 

 fearfully, and her accusers could bring 

 neither living witnesses nor written docu- 

 ment to support their assertion, yet so diffi- 

 cult is it to disprove that particular calumny, 

 that, in spite of her reiterated denial, the 

 charge passes for true in Aberleigh to this 

 very hour. Habit, however, reconciles all 

 things ; people may become accustomed even 

 to that sad nick-name, an authoress. 



In process of time, the imputed culprit 

 ceased to be shocked at the sound, seemed 

 to have made up her mind to bear the 

 accusation, and even to find some amuse- 

 ment in its truth or its falsity : there was an 

 arch and humorous consciousness in her 

 eyes, on such occasions, that might be con- 

 strued either way, and left it an even wager 

 whether our little lame girl were a poetess 



