The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1873-04-04

ters did not prosper with the family.
Little Lena had the scarlet fever and
lay for a long time at deaths door,
and the work with which the mother
helped to fill the family purse was ne
cessarily neglected, and her customers
grew angry and left her
Then the baby died. Poor little
baby
The mother wept bitterly. The
father also longed to weep, although
children were expensive luxuries in
that poor household. Finally the last
afiiiction fell upon the tailor-a felon
on his right thumb
There was an end to all, it seemed
to both. Nothing but the hospital and
the almshOuse before them. The rent
was quite unpaid at last, and the to-
| baccOnist was in a fury. He called TO
give him warming and piece Of his
mind. On the morrow out he should
( 90, neck and crop. The tailor said
nothing. The wife, woman-Iike, had
her word.
Where shall we 90 ?" she asked.
I'VE haven't penny i'll the world"
1T is nothing to me where YOU 60"
said the landlord $50 that | get you
out of my rooms. l want them for
honest people"
We're unfortunate, but we never
mean to be dishonest" cried the wife.
Then the husband, in an angry word
babe her hold her tongue.
Its all the same, he said eve will
90 tomorrow, and now you go, Mr..
Landlord"
Then they were left alone, bemOan-
ing their hard fate. There was abso-
lutely nothing to eat in the house.
Sally looked at her empty flour bar
rel, at her wretched family, and then
burst into tears.
Its no use trying any longer" she
said. IF the Lord would only take
us. That's all l ask"
She put the children to bed and sat
down upon chair drawn by force of
habit to the hearth of an empty stove.
Her husband, between pain and anN-
ietv, was less sane than a madman.
He paced the floor like tiger, talk
inc to himself. The bit of tallow can
die burnt low, the bitter wind ratified
the easement, the ram beat against it.
1--WE shall be out i'll all that tO-mOr-
row." said the man. 'NcNe not a
friend in the world"
We've got one friend, l hope" said
the wife.
"Who is he ?" asked the tailor.
God" said the woman. Maybe
He'll find way to help us. We have
not been very bad, Sam"
Better to have starved before now, ,
said the tailor. 1--WE haven't anV par
ticular right to expect miracles, that
know Of Hark what's that ?"
"A knock" said the wife, and, trem
bling lest her landlord should have re
turned, opened the door. Without
; stood the tall, gaunt figure Of the lod
, ger in the attic.
Hes come for some bread, " thought
, the woman, and amidst her own trOu
ble she grieved over the thought of re
fusing his appeal.
He made none, however. This /:
what he said
: Madame, awhile ago I took the lib
ertv of asking you for bread. Allow
me to return the loaf with thanks"
5 SO he vanished. y whole fresh loa
| Law in the woman's hand. She carried
it in.
t This is more than l expected" " sh'
r said. You see God is good"
She lifted the side of the candlesticl
a little The light tlared up.
2 Now, mother" cried a achild'svOlc'
= from the bed, Pm hungry"
Sally broke it in two. ltparted witt
singular ease. She gave little cry
2 1t had evidently been parted betor
/, and joined together, and from tn
/. heart a handful of crumbs had beer
{, scooped and in it lay a little whit
packet:
/ its fairy-bread," cried Sally, re
e membering some old country legend
= "Look on it before the light goe
out" said the tailor,
l Sally obeyed. She opened the packe
0 and found two envelopes. In the on
t was this note:
t MADAME Your loaf of bread saved m
e life. know you are in trouble, and yes
terday my luck turned. To-day L an
= worth fifty thousand dollars having won
u lawsuit, that has been pending for years
: Please accept the enclosure, ana peleV
e me your ever obliged, ATTIC LoDGER.
There was five hundred dollar not
e in the envelope, ana when she saw
9 she thought herself the happlest wo
man in Christendom.
The gift was the saving OF tn
i family.
Sally had cast her bread upon tn
waters to find it again in truth. Ant
l. when the tailor's hand was well again
C there was patron for him who dress
n cd in such a manner that Sam coulC
: no longer doubt him gentleman Th
Y attic lodger wears the finest broadclotl
|; now and the tobaccOnist bows low a
he meets him on his way out, or sell
!, him choice Havanas over the counter
d He stops at the door in his carriage
and lodges in the attic no longer; bu
t he never has forgotten, nor seems like