The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-12-07

Will IhO AON LhAA k(ShSO &OG, L OOtiSuG
n little bread to save me from starv-
ing. I have nowhere to go. I have
no home"
She burst into tears, and there was
something so forlorn, both in her
voice and countenance, as she spoke
these words, it was impossible to
doubt their truth There was moth
ing i'll it of the whine Of q made-up
tale, to excite compassion, and she
rather sought to wipe away her tears
nnobserved, as she turned aside her
head, than to make parade of them.
Il am sure" said Miss G -
the daughter of neighboring baro-
net, "there is something very I'M
common in this child's story. Poor
creature, she is really in very great
distress. Let us take her home, and
mamma will know better than we can
what would be the best to do for
her"
Her friend assented, and Miss
G. turned to the child and told
her that if she would como along
with her, she would give her some
good advice The little girl followed
gladly enough, but she would not
leave the pot behind her, for that
and the miserable attire on her back
was all the property she possessed in
the world.
Lady O. was a woman of
known benevolence, but she was not
one who exerted it without due eau
tion and Judgment She did not, by
hasty or indiscrinlinate charity; Gu
courage vice and low cunning. The
truly afflicted sought her doors, aud
the idle vagabond passed on, certain
that inquiry would precede relief.
Yet with all this Lady c. did
not carry caution to that cold and
extreme extent which rendered her
suspicious where there appeared
marks Of want and sorrow. that car
rled with them their own evidence of
sincerity. This was the case
That child, said Lady c.,
after hearing her daughters account
of the meeting on the common, '.is
indeed in need of food and rest. 1
can see it in her looks. I can see
that her distress is real in every line
of her face, which is very pleasing
one; and in the few words she has
spoken, there is such tonching tone,
very different from hypocrisy. She
shall have something to relieve her
hunger, and then we will question
her"
The little. creatures tears were seen
to start In her eyes at the sight of the
food. for she was famishng with
want. The meal ended; once more
she was conducted to the presence of
the ladies. Lady G., with much
gentleness, commenced her interro-
gatories, after having kindly, but in
Il way suited to the capacity Of the
poor, untaught girl, endeavored to
impress on her mind the duty as we'll
rs the Importance to herself of speak
ing the truth.
The following particulars were art
lessly narrated:
The child began by saying that she
was born in Bath. Her father was
in business in that city; she told his
trade. Her mother-in- law treated her
so harshly and urkindly, that on
some gypsies coming into the neigh
borhood, as she was allowed to run
neglected about, and glad to be ont
of sight of her severe step-mother,
she got acquainted with them, and
was finally induced by their persua-
slons to run away and join them.
With these gypsies, she had lived two
or three years, going about the coun-
try with them. She did not know if
her father had made ally inquiry con
corning her or not. At length, not
liking the way of life Of the people
among whom she had fallen, she de-
termined to leave them on the first
opportunity. She had stolen away
from them, taking nothing with her
but one of their old pots, with
view to cook for herself a turnip, or
she could get to support
her, SO that she might not die for
want Of food. She had wandered
about the roads and way-sides, beg
ging, ever since she quit the gypsey
camp, and with the very few half
pence she had picked upin this man
ner. had bought u penny loaf at
village she might pass in her rambles.
She did not at all know where she
had been wandering, but at last she
had reached the common where the
young ladies found her that morning.
Lady c. had little or no
doubt that the child's tale was true;
and thinking that to cast out so
young and SO nnfriended creature
again on the wide world would be to