Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-07-06

lust"
"Oh. Bessie |" and he hid his face.
"And look at my dollsw
They were almost as good as "bouGhten
ones" in their gay dresses. She had mark
ed eyes, nose and mouth, giving them pink
cheeks and a pretty substitute for hair.
Little midgets, they will he wild with
delight"
"Oh, Bessie was thinking Of them to-
night. We were never so poor before. Not
even a penny TO spend =
''It is hard shall never be converted
to the idea that rich people oflen advance
about poverty being the happiest state of
life, and poor people being free from care.
The sweet sleep Of the laborer is very often
quoted, but l wonder how many of them
lie awake planning how they can make one
ponnd do the work of two. But we have
each other, and health, and faith in Heav-
en-"
"Bessie," he interrupted, "how much
does woman lover How much would
she forgiven"
ITO tue end. All things, Joseph-pover-
ty, trial, sacrifice"
"And shame, disgrace7"
She was clinging to him, trembling in
every pulse.
"Ob, not that |" she cried. "Better the
bitterest poverty. 1t is my one great com
fort that you never did anything dishonor-
able. would rather be poor as we are to-
day than TO think you had ever wronged
one living soul"
"Yes, 10 be sure" lie responded weakly,
and with forced laugh. mo one can say
that"
He could never tell her how easy the VIII
lainy look cd TO him, how certain seemed
the prosperity st the end. Oh, Heaven I
he could not stay here, studied by her clear
eyes, kissed by her pure lips. Why, it
would end 10y making an honest beggar of
him
"You are not going out again, Joe, dar-
ling"
bessie, musl-for little while. Ii is
business-someihing that may bette: US a
bit il should he successful
"Joe-"
"There. sweet wife Heaven knows you
are an angel! l won't he gone long"
Somehow she had not the will 10 detain
him. She ciouched over the hrf, listened
to the storm aud piayed-it was all she
could do-for ber dear one, whose heart
aud hands had always been kept clean,
hitherto.
The storm was fierce enough. Ii chmed
in with bis desperate mood. In month
more he would lie an outsider, thief, a
fugitive, skulkiug about in darkness and
dread, a dishonored man. On in the dark
nessl He must think it ont now-must de-
eide.
Evening PAPER! Oh, sir, please buy a
paperr
There was a lamp post at the corner, aud
Joseph Yates caught the poor little wsif by
his shoulder.
"You're the boy I met down in Pine
Street," he exclaimed. "Don't you know
you cannot sell papers this time of nigbtH
Run home out Of the Storm"
sob, sir mother-she's starving And
there's great window full Of things down
yonder that look so good-so good Why
the very smell Of ems feast. can't steal,
but, oh, won't some one give me few pen
mics ~
"Here," he said, "let us try. We will
both beg. They are making ready for
grand feast. Come along"
He pulled him almost roughly by the
arm over the sleety steps, through the open
door, into the light, the warmth, and tho
spicy fragrance.
"Will you save poor, perishlng soul,
this night7" he asked, addressing the
group. "Is the love of Heaven within you
great enough to keep this child and his
mother from starvationH'
They gathered around aud the story was
sooD told.
a small sum was speedily gGthered-ten
shllliugs-aud the boys joy found vent in
tears aud thanks.
"For you see, I'm not used TO selling pa
pers, nor matches, and the other boys run
me oil. I'd do anytbing-but steal"
Joseph Yates looked at the pitiful little
mite. Not ragged, nor with The vagrant
air OF waits in general. Why, what was
there 50 oddly familiar about the face?
Somewhere it had peered at him with not
quite the same look in the eyes, but rous-
ing him 10 some other sentiment than that
of pity.
They walked out together and went to a
shop, where the boy displayed the prudence
of a market woman.
"We've no fire" ,"'he said.
The shop-keeper tied stout string
round a great bundle, and Yates shoulder
ed it.
On they trudged, up an alley finally, and
TO room on the ground floor, clean, but
very poor and scantily furnished.
"oh, mother, motherl I've brought you
something 10 eat, and wood to make fire,
aud this gentleman-"
The child was sobbing on the bed, utter
ing broken sentences, and then laughing
Historically.
Joseph Yates began TO build a fire in a
mechanical way, thinking over his Temp
tation, and whether Heaven had saved
him.
ooh, how can ever thank your" the
woman began presently.
"Don't," he said huskily. 81 havegiven
Hothlng-nothing. 1 am beggar myself,
or perhaps worse"
"You may be poor, but you have heart.
And poor little Will-irs been SO hard for
him. If he only had one friendr
Then she raised herself suddenly, and an
eager light shone in the sunken eyes.
"There is a man." she went on slowly,
Peter Gale, by name, in this city-a rich
man. Did you ever hear of hlm?"
"Hear of him? 1 am his book-keeper,"
he answered grimly.
"If could see him. He might"
Joseph Yates smiled bitterly.
Don't count on him." he said. "He is
hard as the neither milestone"
"But If he knew he had child-a sonf
He used TO desire II so much."