Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1870-09-30

Gales and Sketehes.
THE LITTLE MATCH BOX MAKER.
A Sketch Of London Life.

'Show me where you live, little girl"
The child looked wistfully at him. He
had taken her Matchbox, but forgotten to
pay her the penny--that penny which
would make up the sixth-her large, un-
expected fortune; and, as we have seen,
she knew how to calculate where
match-boxes were concerned. She could
not lose her profits.
Its a penny, please"
"A penny-to be sure-I forgot Now
let US go;" and he placed the copper in
her outstretched hand.
The child turned the corner, and Mr..
Black followed her to the dingy, ,dilapidated
house in the alley, and up the narrow,
rickety stairs, to the. little room in the at
tic.
With q step of unwonted rapidity and
lightness the child entered and laid the
six coppers on the bed, among the rough
bags which her mother was sewing with
slow and unsteady Stitches.
"Six pennies, Minnie! sold 'em all
and he's come home with me-"
''He? Who, Mona?" inquired the wo-
man in voice of alarm.
As she uttered the words she looked up,
and her eyes rested on a middle-aged man,
standing at the foot of her bed, if we may
so call her mattress of straw. In an in
slant the face bloodless before, grew even
whiter--or rather grew livid-her eyes
dilated with an expression OF horror, the
work dropped from her hands and her
head fell back on the pillow; but for the
second look of the eyes, one might have
thought she had not lost consciousness.
Mr.. Blake drew the only chair "a wood
en- one) the room could boast, to the side
of the bed, and with kindly air, that ig
nored she poverty Of the poor woman's
surroundings, and seemed to place on a
footing of equality with himself, said
May sit down? What was it you
called the chlld?"
No reply, but the same affrighted look.
The little girl had already seated her.
self, instinctively as it were, on the box in
front of her working materials, and was
stirring up the small pot OF paste. She
looked over her shoulder, and said ex-
planatorily, as though she were in the
habit of replying for her mother
minnie called me Mona-she does
sometimes-but Mos my name, that's
what they all calls me-"
Mona" A shadow passed over over
Mr.. Blake's countenance, not precisely a
frown, but a deep shade of sadness. Il
never knew but one called by that name
did know one!'
There came stified sob from the wo-
man, and the emaciated hands covered
the white, spasm-drawn face.
II am sorry to distress you, but should
like to talk of the little girl-she is your
child, is she not ?'
The Eyes" seemed forcd out by another
sob. There was sense of appropriation,
too, in the tone. as though there was some
comfort in her wretchedncss in claiming
the one thing in the world that belonged
to her.
The hands were still raised to hide her
face. Mr. Blake was an observant man,
and he noted that no wedding ring en-
circled the finger; but ever charitable in
his judgments, he reflected that she might
have been compelled to exchange it for
bread; such things have been. Wedding
rings are drugs in pawnbrokers' shops.
You seem i'll and very isolated here.
Have you no friends?"
mo"
mo one with whom l could talk? l
might suggest something for your benefit
or little Mona's."
"Not one"
Then tell me yourself; what would
you have me do ?"
go Please"
The please came out softly, afterwards,
as an apology, and told that the speaker
had not been in the habit of being dis
courteous.
Mr.. Blake rose at once; his instructive
delicacy forbade his intluding.
IL have no right to remain; but leave
you this cardiff you will send line to
that address l will gladly be of any SER
vice in my power"
He attempted gently to take one of her
hands in his, but she pressed 1t down
more tightly on her face, murmuring-
Thank you-thank you. Go-please."
Mr.. Blake patted the child on the head
as he passed her, and said,
"Good-by. Mona. Ask mamma to send
for me soon."
When the door closed upon him, the
suffering woman took up the card. and as
she read the name and address her sobs
were no longer controlled, they broke out
into fierce hysterical paroxysms, accom-
panied by a deluge of tears. Little Mona
ran to her, swept away the canvass bags,
crept on the bed, and put her arms
around her; still she wept and wept, and
only ceased from sheer exhaustion.
Singularly and abruptly as Mr. Blake
had been dismissed, he had too humane II
heart to turn away his thoughts from the
poor woman because he felt bound to
withdraw his presence. He knocked at
the door next to hers, to obtain infor-
nation of her from the inmates of the
room, but learned little more than he
knew already, except that she had lodged
there for the last two years, was seldom
able to rise from her bed, never went out,
and saw no one, except another lodger,
widow, who brought her materials for
the canvass bags. and had taught the
child to make match-boxes Gin which
trade her own little ones were busily en-
gaged). and performed similar small SER
vices. Mr.. Blake next sought the apart
ment Of this woman. and found her and
her three children looking half starved,
half frozen, and in abject poverty-yet
she had found time to minister to her
poorer neighbor. The children, who
were sitting in the midst of their paste
pots and slips of cardboard, and heaps of
newly finished boxes, was thrown into a
&c al, lo1.