Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1853-05-12
THE STORY TELLER.
From Arthurs Home Gazette.
RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND.

cold ! repeated Howard lngersoli, as he re-
moved his overcoat and wrappers, and en-
scOnsed himself in large easy chair, drawn
up at precisely the proper angle with the fire
God help the poor !! continued the gentle
man in a tone whose fervor would have done
honor to any member of the Long Parliament
and he drew his feet into the tastefully en-
broidered slippers which loving hands had
placed there in anticipation Of his return.
Il know it, Howard, that's just what said
as / sat here listening for the sound of your
footstep in the hail. answered Mrs. Ingersoll,
gentle, dark-eyeG woman, as she stirred up
the glowing bed of anthracite; and the light
that waved and glided over the opposite wall
like the great wing of spirit, grew broader
and brighter. Il heard the wind moaning and
howling at the windows and shrieking mad
like up and down the street; and | s'pOse it
was because | had nothing else to do, fell to
thinking of the poor--of helpless mothers with
their little hnngry children, and it was more
than could stand. crept on tiptoe into the
children's room, and bending over those two
dear little cribs Il had tucked up Charlie and
Ellen myself, and they we're sleeping 50 sweet
ly) thought maybe some other mother was
bending over her children, and she loving them
just as dearly as did mine, and yet not bed
clothes enough to keep them warm, and per-
haps they went TO bed without any supper
Poor things! can't get over thinking about
them.'
And the lady, whose maternal sympathies
were strongly aroused, dropped The poker on
the rug and lifted her pretty dark eyes to her
husbands face, while two tears of genuine
womanly sympathy twihkled and sparkled in
their travel down her checks.
why Mary, you are really getting nervous.
What can have put these thoughts into your
head, child Do, pray dismiss them they
only make one fdegty; put down good
round sum on the charity list this year, SO
you'd better think of the widows hearts we've
made 10 sing for joy; and Howard Ingersoll,
who had a mans usual distaste to tears, drew
his arm around the waist Of his pretty wife,
and the sweet upturned brow to his lips, and
that caress carried away the heaviness from her
heart She drew her chair closer to her hus-
band, and the gentleman took his newspaper,
and the lady her novelette, ). the fire danced in
the CRATE, and the wing frightened on the
wall, and the wind moaned and howled at the
window, and Howard Ingersoll and his wife
dreamed not of the want and wretchedness that
almost lay within the shadow of their thresh-
old. Had they not put their names 10 the sub
scription list, and said God help the poor!'-
Surely they had done their duty.
Mary, is there room for me, too! I'm so
cold. l cant bear TO wake up mother, and
know | shall if get into bed with her; amt it
funny she sleeps SO longr and the child
speaker drew her lips closely down to the ear
of the other, as if fearful that the sound Of her
voice might disturb some one in the apart
ment
Right across the street, SO that the light
from Howard IngersOII's pleasant parIor came
with faint ghOst-fngers into the darkened room,
revealing its utter destitution, stood an old and
dlapidated dwelling. It's huge, ungraceful
shadow mingled with that of its symmetrical
neighbor, and there, face to face, and front to
front, they stood on that fearful night; while
the Great Eyes to whom the darkness and the
day are alike, locked down steadily, sleepIess-
ly into the lighted parlor and the darkened
chamber
Yes, Lizzie, | can make room, only there
amt clothes enough to cover you too; you can
have part of mas old cloak, though. Lizzie,
Pm almost burning up-what makes you call
it cold.'
Burning up! burning up! CALCULATED the
other, her surprise getting the better Of her
caution, why Mary, the water has frozen in
the pitcher; and feel just like ice all over,
only my hands and feet ache so.'
We'll, get in quick, Lizzie there, take
half the pillow, and put your hands in mine.
Oh! how good and cold they feel. Lizzie,
have you said your prayers!'
< Yes, said her sister, hesitatingly. 'I tried
to, long time ago, when | stood at the win
dow, watching for the people in the brick
house to light up their parlor; and when the
girl come in with the lamps, just before she
drew the curtains, could look down and see
almost all that was in the room. Oh! it
looked so beautiful, with the warm fire dane
ing in the crate. It seemed so cruel that we
couldn't have one too, and there was a little
boy and girl there, Mary, and they looked so
happy as they ran round the room, trying TO
catch each other, that began to feel angry
with them. l know it was wicked, but
could not help il; shut my eyes and tried to
pray, but all the time that pleasant room and
those happy children stood right before me.
and the words came dreadful hard. It didn't
seem as if God heard them. Don't you think
He's forgotten us, Mary!'
.sOh! no! no! Lizzie, you know mamma
says God cannot forget any more than we can
forget each other: and then He sees US al
ways, for he can look right straight down
through the darkness. Oh! wonder if He
don't feel sorry for US nowl'
Lizzie tried to answer, but she could not,
for the great sob had been rising and swelling
in Der throat, until it was too large to be swal-
lowed down again.
That child's sob in the silence, wruup out
Of fthe little weary, aching heart, what world