Little Georgie, now a youth who bids fair to make a mark in the world, has never seen his own mother since the night he followed her spirit from the home of his tormentor; but he delights to receive tidings of her watchful care over him from the lips of his beloved second mother, Mrs. Harris, who often holds communion with her spirit in the silence of the midnight hour.
CHAPTER X.
LUCY AIKEN’S MISSION.
In relating to you these incidents in illustration of the work of the spirit, and its influence upon mortals, you are not to suppose that they are fictitious,—truth is ever stranger than fiction; and the events of daily occurrence in the lives of human beings are more marvelous, more significant, in their bearings toward the mission and destiny of individuals than any tale of novelist can possibly seem to be; while, in reality, he who weaves his web of fiction, filled with startling scenes and incidents, with which to regale his readers, finds the foundation of all that is most real, startling and beautiful in his romance in the passing events of daily realistic life.
Yet another instance will we relate to you of the earnestness, depth of feeling, intensity of power, and persevering patience displayed by spirits in the pursuance of the work they have to perform for the benefit of mortals.
A terrible accident had happened in one of your large cities. A factory boiler exploding had dealt destruction all around; but by far the saddest result of the catastrophe might be seen in an upper room of a tenement house not far away. A man, once strong and active, but now reduced to a mere skeleton, lay breathing the hours away in misery and pain.
His spine had been seriously injured from the effects of the explosion, rendering him a helpless, hopeless invalid, but not mercifully inflicting upon his body a fatal injury. Ah, no! Doomed to live, in agony and pain, deprived of strength, the days rolled by bringing no cheer to his soul save the blithesome presence, at morn and evening, of his cheery-faced young daughter, who, in her frail person, alone stood between him and starvation.
This young girl of sixteen summers was employed in a cotton-mill, where, from morning till night, she toiled for the small sum of four dollars per week, out of which she was compelled to buy food for herself and parent, pay the rent of their humble tenement, and provide medicine for the invalid. After this had been accomplished, it would seem that nothing could remain for clothing, and yet Katy was always neatly clad in clean but coarse garments of her own manufacture.
Time passed, and our cheerful young friend found herself wearing out and breaking down under the burdens imposed upon her. Health gave way, her strength became exhausted, and at length a distressing cough set in, which the dispensary doctor, who attended her father, declared to be the herald of incipient consumption. It seemed that her work at the mill must be given up; but if this was done, what would become of her invalid father, as well as of herself? Ah, who could tell!
UNSEEN HELPERS.
Thus matters stood with those of whom we write at the commencement of our story. Katy still kept at her post, in spite of pain and fatigue, and despite the remonstrances of physician and others; and it was found that she could accomplish as much labor, and perform it as satisfactorily, as the strongest and smartest hand in the place. The cause of this amount of endurance on the part of a fragile girl, whose every breath was fraught with pain, was a mystery to all who knew her; but not so to the angels. They brought her the power, day by day, to accomplish her work to the satisfaction of all; they magnetized her weary frame night after night, thus holding the ravages of disease at bay, even though they could not deliver her from suffering and pain.