Litchfield enquirer., 1863-04-09

disposed now to lavish money Tor the mere qualification of her taste, or the momentary pleasure of friend. No thought she, will save that money for some poor creature who is suffering for the very necessaries of life how much good it would do that poor woman saw to-day, while Kate would never spend two thoughts upon it.
 But there rose before her. grim and threat ening, that phantom which has frightened mul titudes from doing what their better judgement sanctioned, the opinion of the word-of her world. What would everybody say if she W ere to make no present? What would Kate herself think ?
 Seldom had Fanny Talbot thought so seri- ously about her duty and the distinction be tween right and wrong, as on that evening,and the result of all her meditations was as follows:
 I will give Kate that crayon sketch took at the White Mountains last summer she liked it very much, and know will value it, because it was done by my own hand; this will show her that I have not forgotten her; and as for others, why, will not care l will for once do what I think is right, must gain some frmness, and may as we'll begin to act inde- pendently now as ever.' %
 And her heart glowed with deep and fervent ioy as she remembered that her Heavenly Father would see and approve, and that per haps her mothers sainted spirit might be bending lovingly, joyfally over the child who was striving to do right. sal
 The Sabbath, with it's sweet hours of st l. ness and heart communion, and of sacred W ship in "the holy place of prayer" strength ened Fanny's new formed resolutions; and she went out early Monday morning to see her washerwoman whom she had heard was i'll. As if by providential arrangement, (are not all the minutest events of our daily life provi- dential ? she saw on crossing just before her the same pale faced, poorly clad woman who had interested her so much the day before. She hastened to join her, yet feariug to seem rude, hesitated to accost her. At last she said |:
 "I passed you on Saturday, and thought you were looking i'll. May ask if you are not an invalid? ?'
 "My health is not quite good ma'am, but am able to go out on all pleasant days"
 In what part of the city do you live?'
 A bright flush passed over the pale face, and evading the question, she replied, in the lower part, since came to the city,
 'Then you are from the country ?
 Yes, ma'am, lived in Greenbrook, Conn.,, till two years ago.
 In Greenbrook, the dear sweet home of Fan ny's childhood, the spot where her mother had died, and where her precious dust now slum bered
 Did you ever know there Mrs. Talbet? she asked hurriedly, without stopping to think how unlikely it was she ever did.
 Mrs. William Talbot, who died there sev. eral years agof lwe5 zzsa1 1T
 Yes; did you know her 7 .t5
 Know her ? answered the poor woman, her face lighting up with glow of pleasure, yes, indeed; nursed her when her little Fan ny was born, and she was always the truest, kindest friend apoor woman ever had It was sad day for Greenbrook when she passed away. If she were but living nowr
 What would you wish of her? Tell me-
 The stranger lifted a quick, earnest glance to the speakers face, and exclaimed, No, it cannot be, and yet there is just the lock bout the eye. Can yoR be relative of hers 2
 . Yes, she was my mother. I am the little Fanny you cared for twenty years ago.
 'TAen,' said the woman with streaming tears my prayer is answered; God has not forgotten me. knew you were in New York, and felt sure that if could fad you I could tell you all my troubles for was certain your mothers child could never have hard or un feeling heart.
 Fanny's eyes glistened with tender emotions She felt as if God had indeed felt her desire to do rightly giving her this opportunity efhelp- ing her mothers friend in the hour of need. It was almost like helping her, and a thrill of joy raa through her soul as she remembered who had said, Inas'nuch as ys have done it, unto one of the least of these ye have done it unto me.
 Mrs. Reed promised to call on Fanny in the afternoon, being then on her way to return some sewing to an employer; and they parted Fanny going on her errand of mercy with light heart.
 Mrs. Reeds story thougha very sad one, was by no means an uncommon one Left widow she had maintained herself respectfully by her labor in the village of Greenbrook till her soa sent for her to come to him. He had lived in the city for several years; he was an only child and should have been the stay of her old age. but, alas, his career had been downward one, and at the time his mother came to New York, he had reached the low est step of degradation. His wife scarcely better than himself, had died, leaving four lit tie children mothelless.
 It was sad change from the beauty and greenness of her sweet country home to the