Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-03-03

don { you know 1t! 1t is q fashion i
has when it is cold"
1T wasn't the wind" said she. sol
emnly, with little nervous aaitatir,
yet visible in her face. Il know the or,
of the wind: it never makes sound III,
that. There" and she clung to him
qulvering like dead leaf, "don't yo,
hear it :" lie certainly did hear some
thing that sounded like the cry of ,
child; and now it did rot die aEav. 2,
1t had when his wife had noticed it, will
single sob, but heightened into screams
But how it could sound SO near. q,
whence come, was q mystery; for th,
house stood then far away from any 9th
er house; but it was child's cry, that
was certain.
"lll 60 and see," said he, summoninr
courage to his somewhat faint heart. an6
be turned to the door. His wife followed
close and last on his steps. As he with.
drew the little slip of wood that fastened
the latch-there wasn't then bolt OF
lock in the towR-and opened the door,
bundle, so it seemed, though of what,
it was hard to guess, fell into the room
with heavy, lifeless sound. TIE wind
blew white sheet over it ere they could
again fasten the latch. Half horror. hal,
wonder struck, they dragged the coarse
blanket to the hearth, and, unrolIipp II
discovered a woman and child; the latter
struggling to free itself from its many
wrappers, and screaming with al its
might; the former motionless as a CORPSE,
with lips as ashy and cheeks as sunken.
A half hours charity to the babe, who
seemed to have seen a twelvemonth, com
pletely revived it; and it lay on its nil.
low with its little white feet stretched to
the fire, as happy as love could have
made 1T, cooling as sweetly as though
nesting on mothers warm bosom. But
it took longer to bring back a pulse to
Its pale protector; and many times did
the good Samaritans turn from her, leay.
ing the sheet drawn over her as we cover
corpse. But sigh, so faint that if
seemed dying breath, at length encour-
aged them, and they applied restoratives
until satisfied she would yet live.
But 1t was many weary day ere she
could leave her bed: and when at las,
she stole from it, and sat up in the old
lady rocker, and lulled her baby with
old songs, She seemed to her watchers
more like spirit than sick, sad strang
er. But gradually, through their tender
nursing, she recovered strength, and not
only tended her child, but assisted the
old lady in many of her domestic duties.
But she said very little-less than they
could have wished; for in their hearts
they longed to know her story. They
knew she was sinner-knew it by the
meek, penitent way in which she hung
her head when they read the Bible, at
morn and night; knew it by the stained
face she raised to them after each PRAYER
But they loved heral the more, or rather
were all the kinder to her. And, though
she revived memories that it was agony
to bear, they folded her to their affec-
tions as they would their own lost lamb,
had she not gone ere they could reach
her. The winter passed, and still the
stranger fingered. filling with her lit
tie one small place in the house, but
large one in each aged heart. One
bright, golden spring morn, after assist
ing in the morning as had become her
habit, she went into the bedroom with
her babe, and soon re-appcared wrapped
in the same coarse garments they had
worn On that frosty night of their ar
rival.
"Give her one kiss, grandma, and VOC.
grandpa" said she, holding the child 6rst
to one, and then to the other wrinkled
face; " and now, father, mother,-do let
me call you SO this once! give the un-
welded mother one, and we will 90, and
wherever you 60 / will pray for you, and
she shall be taught to ;" and she rushed
wilaly to the door. They stopped her,
caught her child. and pleaded with her
to stay. BE to us still what you have
been SO long, our daughter, and do not
take from US our darling baby we should
die wi hout her,"
Great drops gathered on the still pale
brow, while tears: rushed down her
cheeks, and her lips quivered with a
fearful agony. She wrung her hands,
she beat her heart, she dashed her lin bs:
she seemed like one who is half mad.
g Give me the child q moment I" she ex-
claimed, and clasping it wildly to her
bosom, she bathed Its smiling face with
drops wrung from her keenest woe, then
kissed it passionately, and held it out to
them. Both stretched their hands, and
the little one. with an equal love, gave
to the one its right, and to the other
its left hand, and, upheld between them,
crowed and screamed in baby glee.
"She is the child of SIM" said the
mother, with solemnity that awed, for
moment the carol of her babe; =" the
child of SIN, but herself pure and holy
as the offspring of welded tie. Will
you keep her SO if l leave her +! II she
goes with me she will not be an angel,
unless, indeed, God takes her; would he
had taken her mother when she was as
young! If she stays with you she may
ever be one. Will YOU keep her 2" and