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Updated: May 9, 2025
The doctor rose, and in a manly voice, whose tones were more pleasing to Hester than the look of the man, which she did not find attractive, proceeded to point out to Franks one or two precautions which his knowledge of anatomy enabled him to suggest, with regard to the training especially of the little Moxy.
No man, however little he may recognize the hope in him, knows what it would be to be altogether hopeless. Now Moxy was about to be taken from them, and no deeper misery seemed, to their imagination, possible! Nothing seemed left them not even the desire of deliverance. How little hope there is in the commoner phases of religion!
Feeling about, one of the boys came upon a large packing-case; having laid it down against the inner wall, Franks sat, and made his wife lie upon it, with her head on his knees, and took Moxy again in his arms, wrapt in one of their three thin blankets. The boys stretched themselves on the ground, and were soon fast asleep. The baby moaned by fits all the night long.
Only I'm slow at it!" she added with a sigh, "Up you go, Moxy!" Franks looked at the doctor. The doctor nodded his head as much as to say, "You had better do as she wishes;" but Hester saw that the eyes of the young man were all the time more watchful of the woman than of the performance. Immediately Franks, with a stage-bow, offered Hester a chair. She hesitated a moment, for she felt shy of Mr.
Franks threw herself again beside her child, but her tears were not so bitter now; she and hers were no longer forsaken! She also read her New Testament, and the last words of Hester had struck her as well as the speaker of them: "And she'll come again and receive us to herself!" she said. " An' Christ'll receive my poor Moxy to himself!
They counted themselves, however, better off by much than if they had been crowded with all sorts in such lodging as a little more might have enabled them to procure. The parents loved Moxy more tenderly than either of his brothers, and it was with sore hearts they saw him getting worse.
All at once in the depths of hell the wings of a great angel were spread out over him and his! No more starvation and cold for his poor wife and the baby! The boys would have plenty now! If only Moxy but he was gone where the angels came from and theirs was a hard life! Surely the God his wife talked about must have sent her to them! Did he think they had borne enough now?
The sickness was a mild smallpox so mild that they did not recognize it, yet more than Moxy could bear, and he was gradually sinking. When this became clear to the mother, then indeed she felt the hand of God heavy upon her.
An' there ain't no luck! I'stead o' gitting more we git less, an' that wi' harder work, as is a wearin' out me an' the b'ys; an' " Here he was interrupted by a cry from the bed. It was the voice of little Moxy, the Sarpint o' the Prairies. "I ain't wore out, father! I'm good for another go." "I ain't neither, gov'nor. I got a lot more work in me!" "No, nor me," cried the third. "I likes London.
He will be taken from me altogether soon!" "Mrs. Franks," rejoined Hester, "you musn't talk like a heathen." "I didn't know as I was saying anything wrong, miss!" "Don't you know," said Hester, smiling through tears, "that Jesus died and rose again that we might be delivered from death? Don't you know it's he and not Death has got your Moxy?
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