The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1869-09-15

Il
waif on. the, ses. Of. humanity? sShe
might mako one heart Happier in this
life. Rich in this world -; goods, but
poor in thH content and peace of mind
which rnakas up this hearts thappinesaI
she would stife thu yearnings OF her
mother-love in deeds of charity, and
find forgetfulness in seeking to tighten
the burden Of others.
One more look at the shrinking figure,
and Mrs. Clifford had decided. Crossing
the room, she pulled the bell, and q mo-
ment after, q broad, good -humored Irish
face appeared at the door. -i.ri
"Jane, there is an organ grinder be-
fore the door. and with him little
child, who looks as though she were half
frozen. Bring her up to my room; T
wish to speak to her. Tell her I will only
keep her few minutes.
"Yes, ma'amW And honest Jane closed
the door softly behind her, with MUIR
INJURED "Bless her kind heart! She amt
took no notice of anything before since
Ida died. It's been sorry enough house
since that day." And she heaved heavy
sigh as she passed down stairs.
Mrs. Clifford watched the man motion
the child toward the door. saw her leave
him, and moment after re-appear; and
then, by her earnest manner, and the
quick passage of his eye over each win
dow, knew that she was repeating
James words. His approving nod told
her success, and she again ascended the
steps.
It was singular, considering how de-
spondent she had felt but few moments
before, with how much interest she
watched for the child's coming. She
soon made her appearance, shrinking
close to James side as she entered that
elegant apartment, that seemed like
some beautiful dream to the child, who
had become used to bare walls and car
petless floors; and when Jane drew her
into the room, she advanced with bated
breath, and feet pressed gingerly on the
rich carpet, as though fearful that the
little torn shoes would crush the bright
flowers beneath.
"Thank you, Jane; I shall not need
you now."
And when the door had closed behind
her, she drew the shy, shrinking figure
to her. saying. gently, in that sweet
voice habitual to her: ''Do not be afraid,
my child, but tell me your name"
"Jessie, ma'am."
And the blue eyes ventured to raise
themselves to the kind face above hers.
"That is nice, pretty name; and is
that your father with the organ, Jessie?"
ooh, no, ma'amw she answered
quickly, and with emphasis, her lip
trembling.
''He is some relative-your uncle, per-
haps? Come, Jessie, want you to tell
me all about yourself. I love little
children, and whenever I find little
girl like you, am going to do all I can
to help her." And she wound her arm
around her, as she added, softly: ''I had
little girl once, about as big as you,
Jessie. She is an angel now, and
haven't any little girl left; but, for her
sake, all little children are dear to me. F"
She could not have explained the i'm
pulse that moved her to speak so to that
child, who said, with husky voice:
''it was the little girl with curls, who
gave me the frock and shoes. Mamma
used to tell me, Heaven loves those who
are good. May be that is why it took
your little girl. I feel so sorry for you
ma'am." And the eyes looked with tear,
full sympathy into hers. The words we're
simple, but the mothers love in Mrs.
Cliford's heart welled up at the touching
tone.
Perhaps. Jessie. He knows what is
best" And with assumed cheerfulpess
she asked, "Where is your mother,
Jessie? You must tell me about your.
self, now"
"Mother is gone to papa. She told
me just before she died, that she wanted
me to always be good. I do try, but I
feel sometimes that wish I might die
too" And, forgetting everything but
her grief. she put her face in her hands
and sobbed aloud.
1t was pitiful to see the effort she
made the next minute to conquer her
grief. and her brave attempt to go on.
eve were very poor; and the day after
mamma died, the organ man came to ME
and asked me if I would like to go about
with him and take the pennies. He said
he would give me my clothes and victu-
ais. didn't have anywhere else to 90;
and SO, after they put mamma away, 1
went with him. But oh, ma'am, it is so
cold out all day; and then he is very cross
sometimes, and I often go to bed hungry.
Oh, if he only knew L told you this!"
And her face paled rs she looked toward
the window.
"My poor child, don't mean that he
shall" And her kind heart filled with
indignation as she thought Of the un-
kindness practiccd toward that lonely
I'D defenceless little one.