The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-10-20
THE LOST POCKET BOOK,


It was q cheerless afternoon. A
biting, freezing wind drove the slow
1y-sifting snow before it like blind
ing mist; and the clouds hung 80 low
as almost to touch the black roofs of
the houses.
GLOW 'desolate it is," Mrs. Halpine
sighed, glancing out from her attic
window on the gloomy prospect be-
low, as she smoothed and folded the
garment she had just completed; "and
the colds bitter. I don't like to
send you out, Louise, but there's not
O lump of coal, or a dust of -four,
and Willie must have that medicine.
ooh, mother, mol let me go-I
don't mind if it is cold. "I'n hurry
back" and the little girl sprang up
from her low seat beside the infants
cradle, and began to fasten on her
faded cloak and hood.
"Well, I suppose you must" the
mother continued, as she wrapped
up the delicately embroidered gar
ment. You know the place? Mr..
Rawdon's, on Tenth street-that
brown stone."
Yes, yes, mother! I 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 by the bakers and get
loaf or two."
The child took the bundle and
vanished out of sight down the
dreary flights of steps; while the
mother turned back to the cradle,
where the sick child lay. He held
up his little hands and moaned pite-
ously. "Give me some tea, mamma,
I'm SO dry"
eyes, darling, justas 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 was no 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 q
luxurious chamber, with every COM
fort that heart could wish within her
reach; and doting husbands strong
arms of love to encircle and protect
her. But her husband was dead,
lying unknown on some distant bat.
tle-field, and her riches had made
themselves wings and flown away.
Forlorn and friendless, sick of heart,
and weary from incessant toll, she
sat, with her wailing babe upon her
bosom, gazing out with hopeless, tear
full eyes, upon the dismal scene be-
meath her attic window.
In the meanwhile, little Louise
made her way through narrow by
streets, and squallid alleys, into the
most populous and fashionable parts
of the city. The biting wind still
continued to blow with a 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 fioated out
upon the frosty air. Mrs. Rawdon
was giving a grand party in honor of
her eldest daughters birth-night.
Louise crept up the marble steps,
and pulled the bell. A footrnan 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 the company? Of course you
. can't"
He was closing the door, but Louise
caught at his sleeve and cried i'm
ploringly,
so, sir, please wait! Here's the
work she wanted; Miss Violet's frock,