Weekly Trinity journal., 1872-12-28

He was very faint, but he had not utter
cd moro than a single cry. His leg was
evidently broken, and badly broken at
that. He must be got home speedily.
Now the mild lodger came out in his
best character, and in his trucst and
kindest self. With quick readiness ho
lifted the poor fellow carefully into II
drugstore, and laid him an a lounge.
Then he took the management of the
case, got the remedies he needed, set and
splintered the limb, and by the aid of his
companion transferred the patient to n
carriage he had ordered.
He had already become n different
man to his friend. He was cool, active,
energetic, wise, as if he had set n thous-
and broken bones and seen four times as
many accidents.
Tho boy could speak little, and was
able to give directions as to the street
where he lived. He was palo with the
pain--a ragged chap enough, but with II
bright good eye, and cheerful pleasant
face. lie was clean, too, and moro than
usually Intelligent. And MS they lifted
him TO the carriage, they noticed n few
newspapers which had been tightly held
under his arm all this terrible timc.
They laid the lad rs we'll rs they could
between them, and across the scat, sup
porting him comfortably ON the pillows
which the druggist had kindly lent.
Now at last that they were moving
slowly over the pavement, the big tears
began to run, one after tho other, down
the ncwsboy's checks. They thought il
was from pain, and so arranged him all
the moro carefully, lest he should suffer
unnecessarily. Yet it evidently was not
that, for when they asked him, he said
that he felt numb and sore, but had very
little real suffering. Only once ON the
whole long ride did he open his lips to
put question, or to speak of his own
accord. And this was what he asked Of
the mild lodgcr:
ltlSt, 'lDtlbIi hbN IlulJ Nt'hn VIII
it be before I'm out again ?"
"Indccd, my poor little fellow" he
said, 81 cannot tell! But it will be n
long while before the bone l,nits together
50 that you can walk"
lie spoke rs he always did, gently and
quietly, and his hand almost unconscious
ly brushed back the hair from the boys
forehead. 1t was sadly cold and damp,
and that warm, tender touch seemed to
make the great tear-drop3 start once
more.
Silently they rode on, without word,
except Of kind sympathy hy-Without II com
plant from their patient-wthout any
disturbance except the usual street noises
and the rumbling of the wheels over the
pavement Softly they drew up in side
street, in front of house which the boy
had pointed out.
The mild lodgcr left the carriage, and
went through the narrow entrance up the
steep and dirty stairs, pausing at last,
and knocking Mt door on the right.
There was no answer, and the sound Of
his knock was cheerless, as if here was an
empty, deserted room. lie knocked again
and then, hearing no reply, pushed in the
half-latchcd door.
Did you ever sec one of these dwellings
Of the poor2 Well, this was like nl the
rcst-a low room in the peak of the house,
with roof -blackened, and the
plaster falling on-with windows made
tight by rags, and the stove rusted and
broken and lrcless. In corner were
huddcd two chldren-just as /, dear
reader, who tell you this story, have often
seen them wrapped in old shawls and
pieces of carpet, and asleep with the cold,
in each others arms.
The mild lodgcr, in his gentle alrec-
Tomato way, touched them softly, and
walked them up. Where was their
mothcr?" "Gonc to work." "Whcre was
their fathcr?" dead" Had they any
brothcrs?" Yes Johnny he was out
selling papers" Sure enough, this was
the whole story-onc Of those three vol
ume miscrics, told in three sentences.
Our medical friend was very much puz-
zlcd. He could not leave johnny"
there, that was certain. lie was in the
midst of great cogitation, also, about
Johnny's sisters, when he heard shout
below. 1t was his fellow lodger, calling
his name.
He rushed down stairs, for there was
that in the voice which startled. And if
the voice was startling, the sight was still
more 50. Two policemen had wheeled to
the door woman on handcart, her
clothes torn and disordered, her face
and deep, fresh cash over her
temple. 1t was Johnny's mother.
in the carriage, the boy was crying as
if lis little heart would break. The
crowd, gathering close around the police
men and their burden, were struck with
pity and disgust, rough people as they
were. Pity for the boy, disgust for the
shameless mass which was all
that was left Of the humanity Of his moth
or.
But the mild lodgcr saw what they did
not see.
"Who is this ?" was his first question,
ms he took hold Of the dirty, dropping
wrist, and felt for the pulse.
"Only that drunken old Irish Moll.'"
Wen, that was enough. Irish Mol"
was so well known for drunkenness, that
no one stopped to inquire if she was any
inoeIso tbon drunk. But it happcned