The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1871-09-03
PERFECT FAITH;
Or, The Story Of Grace Murray
BY ELlZA II. PARKER.

Cold, bitterly cold was the winter evening.
with q sharp wind piercing like dagger, and
as ss ofstimes giimaers through the ioe,jsweled
mountains Of Arctic regions. So faded away
the golden splendor of the chill sunset Q
s6s might ada anos s ssisohs to the soft
fieeoy robe her asiftsate hands were making.
Dreamingly she dwelt in thought among the
snowy hills Of her childhoods country home
then the ice and snow were gone and the
golden beauty of the spring flowers she had
moment she almost fancied, like the poets
hero, that they blossomed anew in sort of floral
resurrection on the far-off edges ofcloud-land.
Poor, weary hearted orpha an Truly she had
need of an occasional glimpse of poetic mag
cry to cheer her sad young life, as she sat day
after day in the gloomy back apartment of the
stately mansion, stitching. from dawn until
dusk. At times the burden seemed almost
more than she could bear, but, casting her
faith-drected eyes toward the small ivory
crucifix she had dared to introduce into this
= Protestant abode, she could murmur in soft,
Christian tones, "All ye who are heavily bur-
dened, take up your cross and follow me-"
"Oh, heavenly Father! love Thee, and will
not refuse to bear the cross Thou hast placed
upon my weak shOulders-if l faint by the
way, strengthen and support my weary steps,"
Then she would resume her task, and tho
pretty pale face would wear glorified ex-
preston of patient resignation that o saint
might have envied.
The day had been particularly trying-the
elegant dress she was engaged upon being re-
quired for the next day for the adornment of
Miss Grey, upon the occasion of receiving at
dinner long-absent lover; consequently
poor Grace Murray had been obliged to re-
double wen her efforts and wonld have yet to
spend weary hours of the night at work, al
though her weary head throhbed with pain.
Miss Grace, what pretty white hand You
have got 1t is smaller than sisters, too. /
asked mamma the other day how it came til at
you had such nice hand and she said she
supposed it was n freak of nature, for poor
common people generally had rough hands !"
said little Annie Grey, with childish impru-
dence.
Grace smiled and looked sadly at the lit g
soft palm and tapering fingers, of which a
fond father and mother were once so tender
II know sister wishes she had hands like
yours, for she is always squeezing them into
little gloves. and she said night in the par
when she did they were always. too big fol
! her. Wasn't that an-awful storyi MANN,
heard her, and never said a word, and yester
day when broke parlor vase, and because
wac fri ghtened said didn't know who did it
mamma called me Il wicked little girl, and sen
me to bed without my supper in the dark
Miss Grace, why was it wicked for me to tell
story, when sister can tell rs many as sh
likes for l heard her tell Mr.. Russell to-da
that she never painted OF powdered, and tina
she made that blue SILK she wore; Sou knoN
you made II, and" +--t
"Hush, Annie, y"n must not comment upo
your sistri; little girls don't always under
stand their elders words and actions; you ar
doubtless mistaken" said Grace, checking tn
little girls conversation.
Miss Grace I am going to bed don't 20
wish Nou couldf / am sorry for you, for
heard mamma say sister Lilly's dress must Il
finished. il you had to sit up all night an
the thunShtless little child skipped Snily ou
of aces little room.
Grace sat gazing into the fire; her head dI
ache very badly, aud it would have been
luxury 10 have rested hour or two. Blu
such cas-" was not for the-fair young sean
stress.
at l"Nprct &" retain my situation mu.
work, '"d Ill" orphan resumed her need
with 'r'l" ii III ct depressed resolution.
A snti mast hing On her ey.--lashes uhscuriu
the ci..ud ike drapcry of silk aud lace whic
resteu lap, the merry voices an
haup, la a.uret h"atrd mp fr"m the r,uIns. b.
low. sac remembered u coy parlor and