Weekly Trinity journal., 1867-03-02
The Lost Pocket Book.
BY EMMA GARRISON JONES.

The Lost Pocket Book.
BY EMMA GARRISON JONES.
zing wind drove the slowly sitting snow before
it like binding mist; and the clouds hung
so low as to almost touch the black roofs of the
houses.
"How desolate it ISL Mrs. Halpine sighed,
glancing out from her attic window on the
gloomy prospect below, as she smoothed and
folded the garment, she had just completed
"and the colds bitter. don't like to send
you out, Louise but there's not lump of coal,
or dust of -four, and Willie must have that
medicine. I'd 60 myself, but"
"Oh, mother, no let me go-I don't mind
if it is cold. III hurry back; and the little
girl sprung up from her low seat besides the
infants cradle, and began to fasten on her faded
cloak and hood.
"Well suppose you must" the mother
continued, as she wrapped up the delicately en-
broidered garment "You know the place?
Mr. Rawdon's on Tenth street--that brown
stone."
"Yes, yes, mother l know"
'Well, dear, run fast, and keep yourself
warm and say to Mrs. Rawdon, that I'd have
finished the work before, if Willie hadn't been
so sick. Three dollars she owes me. You can
call at the bakers and get a loaf or two"
of sight down the dreary fight of steps; while
the mother turned back to the cradle, where
the sick child lay. He held up his little hands
and moaned piteously. "Give me some tea,
mamma, I'm SO dry"
" Yes, darling, just as soon as Louise comes"
Her eyes filled with tears as she raised the
little fellow to her bosom, clasping him closely
to keep him warm, for there fire in the
stove, and the desolate attic room was very
comfortless. Yet there had been day when
this same pale-faced, meek-eyed woman sat in
a luxurious chamber with every comfort that
her heart could wish within its reach; and
dotng husbands strong arms of love to encircle
and protect ner But her husband was dead,
lying unknown on some distant battlefield, and
her riches had made themselves wings and flown
away. Forlorn and friendless sick at heart,
weary from incessant toll she sat, with her wall
ing babe upon her bosom, gazing out with hope
less, fearful eyes, upon the dismal scene beneath
her attic-window.
In the meantime, little Louise made her way
through narrow by-streets, and squailid alleys,
into the most populous and fashionable part of
the city. The biting wind still continued to
blow with dreary saddening wall, drifting the
low, leaden clouds, and the mist-like snow
But she walked on bravely, and reached, at last,
Mrs. Rawdon's. A dazzling glow of light poured
from all the lofty windows, and sounds of music
and merry making foated out upon the frosty
honor of her eldest daughters birth-night.-
Louise crept up the marble steps, pulled the
bell. A footman in livery answered her timid
summons.
"Can l see Mrs. Rawdon, please sir ?' she
asked.
| See Mrs. Rawdon, indeed and she in the
parlor IN the very middle Of company Of
course, you can't"
| He was closing the door, but Louise caught at
his e1aeve and cried implorinply,
| uOh, sir please wait Here's the work she
wanted; Miss Violet's fr6ck, you know Mother
promised it by tonight; do let me take it up to
herr
The man hesitated moment and then turned
| back.
"Miss violet's frock," he said "she wanted
it, know. heard her fussing because it didn't
come home. Maybe she'll see you. I'll try,
anyhow Come in here and wait"
| >Louise followed him through the arched hall
and past the glittering parlors, into kind Of
ante-room adjoining the supper apartment
Here, motioning her to seat, he went in search
of his mistress. But it was fail half hour be-
fore Mrs. Rawdon could disengage herself from
her guests and poor little Louise, tired out
with waiting, and benumbed with cold, was just
on the point of bursting into tears, when the
lady swept into the room.
siThis is pretty business, now, isn't it?" she
began as she received and unfolded the bundle
that Louise proffered her. 81 thought you
promised to bring this yesterday p?
| "Yes, ma'am but little Willie was so sick
that mother couldn't sew''
.Oh, yes that's always the way-you We
| some excuse ready; but l shant trust you
again, you may depend it. Here Violet s
been crying for an hour, and refused to come
down because she was so disappointed about her
dress. John ring the bell for Jane to take it up
to her. must 60 back to the parlor now
She was sweeping out again, her satin robes
rustling after her but Louise sprang up with q
piteous cry.
"Oh. ma'am little brothers so i'll, and must
have his medicine please let me have the mon
ey r' =
"Ican't to-night-rm entirely ont of change.
You can call day after tomorrow"
But Louise was not to be repulsed. She
caught the lady's hand in both Of her little
frozen palms. One of the rings that adorned
Mrs. Rawdon's soft fingers would have procured
all the comforts her mother and little Wine SO
soreIy needed. Some such thought flashed
through the child's mind as she made ner ap-
peal. CT,
| of implorinp entreaty," you are rich and hap
nv and have all you want but my poor mother
has nothing: and my poor little brother will
| d;e v;tbout medicinei Do let me have the mon
ey p
sesn tell you I've no change. You must call
again John show her to the door !''
| The footman obeyed, and Louise soon found
herself upon the marble steps, while the lofty
doors closed in her very face with heartless
slam
The wind howled more dismally than ever
1 ~ 4 f-I1 T. - -