The new era., 1860-03-08
The Stolen Child.

naughty woman, what shall l, do ~ and
the plaintive. distressed but still with
all its mournfulness, sweet little voice,
swound1 up from the low, damp steps of
a deserted basement, just as the stately
Mrs. Mordant was passing by. Once
size would have hurried on, unmindful of
this as OF many another form of wretch
edness, but not now. An angel had
come down and stirred the waters OF her
heart. and charity and kindness had
bloomed in the worldly wilderness other
soul. And how and why? 2 ~ a
"a There was one darling in her house
hold, one beautiful. bright, and loving
child, sole daughter of her house and
heart." With but few hours warning,
the idol was torn from its worshipful
place, and Mrs Mordant, with all her
pride, and wealth, and stateliness and
beauty, alone in her magnificent room
of her splendid dwelling. bowed low
over her coffined child, in all the aban-
donment of anguish and despair. At
first her heart swelled and surged, as
the sea in the tempest, and struggled,
and chafed with its own rebelious mur-
murings, and could not, would not bow
in submission to the terrible mandate.
80 my Allie, my sweet, beautiful,
loving child, come back to me-O God
of Heaven, take all things else, but
give me back my child" And still to
all her wild and bitter pleadings, the
little marble form of beauty gave back
no answering tone. But perchance its
disembodied spirit, commissioned from
on High, hovored near the desolated
mother, and by earnest whisperings.
awoke her h art to what she had never
before realized-the true aims and OBJ
jects of life. To her repining murmur,
",chy am thus stricken ?"-came back
the solemn questioning, "What have ev-
er done that should deserve kindness
and love from Him to whom never in my
life have rendered love oreven graft
tude ? To Him who has given mani
fold blessings, and bestowed upon me
all the good things Of this life, have my
lips offered no prayer, and my heart felt
no emotion of gratitude. Out cfthe abun-
dance Of my worldly substance, have
given naughtto the poor-haughty have
| been to the humble, inconsiderate and
proud to the feeble and unfortunate
Now, God has smitten me in his wrath.
PROSTATE lie before my shattered idol
Here by this beautiful clay, | renounct
the yanities of the world. will live tC
do good, and thus fulfill woman's high
est, holiest mission. And thus became
the death of her child, like the rod il
Moses hand, the instrument to Gauss
she waters of charity, and loving kind
ness. to flow from the hitherto worldl
heart Of tho beautiful widow, the envie
and wealthy Mrs. Medora Mordant. +
1t had cost her many struggle, an
self-denial, many conflict between ne
native pride and intellectually. and tn
still small voice !. to enable her to fulti
her sacred vow.,. But it was religiousl
kept-and it was on returning from a
"errand ofmercy." in one of the poore
streets of the city. that the plaintive al
peal of the child ARRESTED her attention
She was a thinly clad child Of sevenat
eight years, hcrface and hands covere
with dirt and tears--with brownish ha
in tangles, and naked hungry-lookir
feet.
"What is the matter, little one
saidlthe lady kindly, and she extend'
her hand tomeet that of the child wi
hastily scrambled up the steps-al
seemed to cling 70 her for protection.
30 save me from that naughty. b
woman, and take me to my own de
mamma-she makes me work so ha
land makes me beg for money, a
beats me SO cruelly-and she stole !
away fromimy poor, dear sick mamma
y This the child said rapidly, and W
an impatiences to walk along s,'sa7
"a ssBnt where is the woman you spe
of let me ask her about it., said M
Merchant aas n'" RAJ a. sH's.
Bie X She has gone, just for a few minut
.Iiust met her on the street. All
morning I've been begging, and got
cent. She looked awful at me 9
said she would beat time worse than ev
o she will kill, me. Nobody will tt
me awayLnobody viii hear me