Herald of the times, and Rhode Islander. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1846-1849, 1848-10-26
The Lost Glove;
Or, the Lady's Dressing-Ma;G.
BY MISS META VICTORIA FULLER.
BY MISS MET
CHAPTER !


decayed and totterlng building in one OF
the by-slreets Of the Empire ciry. The
sunlight seemed like pleasant vister,
as crept from her little naked feet "nd
ragged dress up over her dlmpIed arms
and shoulders, and nestled amid the shi-
ming curls, hanging in dishevelrd profu-
sion around her sweet and childish face.
But as It grew more inquIsltlve, aud stole
under her dropping lids, to discover the
color OF her downcast eyes, IT betrayed
two bright, sparkling, but sorrowiul-
looking tears, just creeping down to the
edge of those slken lashes
Just at this moment young man who
was passing by, stopped shor, IN his hasty
walk, To gaze for nom'nt on the sum
shnc, the tears, and the beautiful crea-
ture before him. He was a poet and a
painter; and struck by the exquisite grace
and beauty Of her face and altitude, per-
feet in their unconscious aud unstudled
loveliness he sought to impress The image
upon his memory.
"What glorious picture have stum-
DIVu OI, sdlu He ilust nave lIldt
piclure-tears, sunshine, and ALL II will
win my fame" The lutte maiden threw
up the lashes gllterlng with moisture,
and perceIvng "A stranger, with an artless
bat sad smile held out her hand, and
said
Please, sir, just a sixpence for my
mother"
The stranger looked at the little, plead
ing hand, and forgot the beautiful face.
It,was IIst such hand as he had dreamed
Of, had sought for, but had never before
funnd, Even though belonging to child,
It's tiny proportions were most eXquisily
eveloped-rounded, delicate, dImped
tapering, perfect In the rapture Of az
artists Joy, the young man caught the
beautiful little hand in his and pressed IT
to his lips. The child looked surprised
aud frightened, but she said meekIy:
"OnIy a sixpence, sir +" in her childish
musical voice.
Certainly, certainly" replied the
artist, for the first time comprehendng
what she said, and emPiying a handful
OF dimes in her lap
"Oh, thank you y said she, her large
blue eyes darkening with fash of de-
light; "you are very kind sir"
| should like to paint your portrait,
pretty one and will give you as much
more money, if when come for you to-
morrow, you will 90 home nth me and
let me take your likeness"
What is that" asked the wondering
child
"Oh. ! will show you, tomorrow
something very pretty
"Weil, l will go, sir, II mamma will let
me-"
The artist, all enthusiasm at hi. pre-
c,ous discovery, stepped gaiIy down the
street, and the little glrl bounded away
in the opposite direction, to buy loaf
Of thread for her sick mother.
=" See here, Mr. Baker. !" said she,
joyfully, springing into a little bakery
where a hard-ieatured man stood behind
the coun,cr,-"I may have the bread
now, for mo,hcr-mayntIl" I" and she held
out her little hand, graspiag tight the
shining pieces OF silver.
EN- where did you get that, little
girl? Cf course yo Ican have the bread,
when you can pay for IT."
Gwen TO me, sir"
"Hump on account Of your bright
eyes suppose. Catch me giving away
bread or money, either, to folks, because
they are pretty" and laying out Il loaf
of bread, ne took one of her dimes in eX-
change
"Ohr exclaimed the child, her eyes
falling on few oranges ranged in the
window, "rIl take an orange, tout
will please mother So"
Another droe was taken; and with
tie loaf of bread and the orange, she flew
back to her comiortless aud destitute
home
q Sec here, mother, what I've brought
you" she exclaimed gaiIy, bounding IN
to ,he wretchcd apartment but she stop
ped short, and letting fall her treasures,
sprung TO the bedside, where, pale and
a woman lay dying, alone and
The ashy lids were closed over her
sunkcn eyes her colorless lips were par.
ted, and the breath came slow aud Sirug-
gllur from her scarcely heaving bosom
My mother my poor mother ~
shrlcked the child, winding her arms
around the emaciated form OF her parent,
aud co, erIug her cold, cIammy brow with
kisses
MY child" said the mother faintly--I
" ] am dying my irIla."
"Oh, mother +" sobhed the little girl
And these two words, and the tone ~
which they were said, coming as they DID
from the heart of a child, were iraughi
with an ,gpuy Of grIefand suffering
stella" continued the dying woman.
d" this r,ng, (wth a strong effort taking u
from, her ilnger aud giving II TO the child. n
keep IT always never. never part with
tit may some time bring you friends
StclIa-God bless thee, my poor orphan;'
and caspina her child conyulsively TO her
bosom, she heayed deep sigh, and sank
h.es upon ber p'llo"-desd