The Shasta courier., 1867-04-13
COURIER
THE LOST POCKET BOOK.

1t was a cherries afternoon. A biting
freezing wind drove the slowly sitting snow
before it like binding mist and the cloud,
hung so low as to almost touch the blacl
roofs of the houses.
g How desolate it is" Mrs. Halpine sigh
ed, glancing out from her attic window or
the gloomy prospect below, as she smootheC
and folded the garments she had just com
pleted and the colds bitter. l don't likt
to send you out, Louise, but there's not I
| lump of coal, or dust of -four, and Willie
must have that medicine. I'd go myself
but
"Oh, mother, no let me go-I dom
mind if it is cold. I'll hurry back :" an(
the little girl sprang up from her low sea
beside the infants cradle and began to faster
on her faded cloak and hood.
Well, | suppose you must" the mothe
continued, as she wrapped up the delicatel.
embroidered garment. You know th
place? Mr.. Rawdon's on Tenth street
that brownstone.
. Yes, yes, mother l know"
Well, dear, run fast, and keep yoursel
warm and say to Mrs. Random that II
have finished the work before, if Willie
hadn't been so sick. Three dollars she owe
me. You can call at the bakers and get
loaf or two.''
The child took the bundle, and vanished
out of sight down the dreary flight of steps
while the mother turned back to the cradle
where the sick child lay. He held up hi,
little hands and moaned piteously. ''Givt
me some tea, mamma, I'm SO dry"
=" Yes, darling, just as soon as Louise
comes"
Her eyes filed with tears as she raised the
little fellow to her bosom, clasping hin
closely to keep him warm, for there was nc
fire in the stove, and the desolate attic room
was very comfortless. Yet there had been a
day when this same pale efaced, meek. eyed
woman sat in a luxurious chamber, with
every comfort that her heart could wish
within its reach; and a doting husbands
strong arms of love to encircle and protect
her. 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 wailing babe upon her bosom, gazing
out with hopeless, fearful eyes, upon the
dismal scene beneath her attic,window.
In the meantime, little Louise made her
way through narrow by-streets, and squallid
alleys, into the most populous and fashion
able 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
air. Mrs. Rawdon was giving grand
party in honor of her eldest daughter S
birth-night. Louise crept up the marble
steps, pulled the bell. A footman in livery
answered her timid summons.
g Can | see Mrs. Rawdon, please sir 2"-
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 sleeve, and cried out implor-
ingly:
"Oh. sir please wait Here's the work
she wanted; Miss Violets frock, YOU know.
Mother promised it by tonight; do let me
take it up to her."
The man hesitated moment and then
turned back.
Miss Violet's frock," he said; " she
wanted it, | know. l heard her fussing be.
cause it didn't come home. May be she Il
see you. III try, anyhow. Come in here
and wait"
Louise followed him through the arched
hall and past the glittering parlors, into a
kind of ante room adjoining the upper apart
ment. Here, motioning her to seat, he
went in search of his mistress. But it was
a full half hour before Mrs. Rawdon could
disengage herself from her guests and poor
little Louise, tired out with waiting, and be-
numbed with cold, was just on the point of
bursting into tears, when the lady swept into
the room.
" This is pretty business, now isn't it ?''
she began, as she received and unfolded the
bundle that Louise prolfered her. {"
thought you promised to bring this yester.
day ?"
"Y Yes, ma'am; but little Willie was SO
sick that mother couldn't sew"
,'Oh, yes that's always the way-you
have some some excuse ready; but | shan't
trust you again, you may depend on 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. j
must go back to the parlor now."
pHO was o"SOPibS Out again, HeT SATIN
robes rustling after her; but Louise sprane
up with piteous cry.
"Oh, ma'am little brothers so i'll, and
must have his medicine; please let me have
the money?'
81 can't to-night-I'm entirely out Of
change. You can call the day after tomor
row."
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 adorn
ed Mrs. Rawdon's soft finger would have
procured all the comforts her mother anG
little Willie so sorely needed. Some sucf
thought flashed through the child's mind a!
she made her appeal.
'Oh, madam she said, "her blue eve.
full of imploring entreaty," you are ricl
and happy, and have all you want; but m,
poor mother has nothing; and my poor lit
tie brother will die without medicine! d.
let me have the money"
Mrs Rawdon shook her off impatiently.
Il tell you I've no change. You mus
call again. John show her the door,"
Il. I