DEATH OF MAU-MAU BETT.



One morning, in early autumn, (from the reason above mentioned, we
cannot tell what year,) Mau-mau Bett told James she would make him a
loaf of rye-bread, and get Mrs. Simmons, their kind neighbor, to bake
it for them, as she would bake that forenoon. James told her he had
engaged to rake after the cart for his neighbors that morning; but
before he commenced, he would pole off some apples from a tree near,
which they were allowed to gather; and if she could get some of them
baked with the bread, it would give a nice relish for their dinner. He
beat off the apples, and soon after, saw Mau-mau Bett come out and
gather them up.


At the blowing of the horn for dinner, he groped his way into his
cellar, anticipating his humble, but warm and nourishing meal; when,
lo! instead of being cheered by the sight and odor of fresh-baked bread
and the savory apples, his cellar seemed more cheerless than usual, and
at first neither sight nor sound met eye or ear. But, on groping his
way through the room, his staff, which he used as a pioneer to go
before, and warn him of danger, seemed to be impeded in its progress,
and a low, gurgling, choking sound proceeded from the object before
him, giving him the first intimation of the truth as it was, that
Mau-mau Bett, his bosom companion, the only remaining member of his
large family, had fallen in a fit of the palsy, and lay helpless and
senseless on the earth! Who among us, located in pleasant homes,
surrounded with every comfort, and so many kind and sympathizing