Daily Republican., 1879-10-09

q, So Hon0ra Leigh went back To bel
life Of patient drudgsry and csaselesi
toll once more. And the rich gentle
man on the first floor, who saw her 60
in and out with her little satchel ol
books and her roll Of music, asked her
landlsdy who she was.
"It's Miss Leigh, SIR" said the 70
man. "A daily governess, and one Of
the sweetest, self-denying young ladies
as ever gave up her life for the benefit
Of Others"
"Humph ?" said the rich gentleman.
"There are not many such in the
world"
"No, sir indeed there's not !" said
Mrs. Moore.
How the rich gentleman on the first
floor became acquainted with the daily
goyerness- the children began to
run in and out Of his room, and ask
him to tell them marvellous stories of
America, whence he came-and how at
last pretty Honora went back to Amer
lea with him as his wife, would make
too long a recital in detail. Suffice 1t
to say that such was the fact.
"Gcd bless the little ones," Mr.. Bon
field said; "thsre's room and to spare
for them in my home. And to my
thinking, there is no sweeter sound
about house than children's voices"
And IL anything could have made
Honora love her husband more dearly
than she had done before, it would
have been these words of his.
And the years went by, and the little
children grew up into health and beau
ty, and Honora, in her satins, had al
most forgotten the sore straights of her
early girlhood, when one day the past
was recalled to her by most unexpect'
cd accident.
"If you please, Mrs. Bon6eld," said
the cook one day, an honest, warm
hearted Milesian, "Tim says there's a
poor family sittlin' down in the old COT
tags by the gates as is most starvin'.
'Sure,' says to Tim, why don't you
tell the misses p Says he: What for
wud l be botherin' her, and they moth
in to her 2 Says 1: The hand Of her
never was closed again the sick an the
poor, an I'll tell her, Tim says I, II
you don't" !.
"You are quite right, Mary" said
Mrs. Bonfeld. 81 will 90 this evening
and inquire into the case"
And with Charley carrying basket
in which was piled good supply o.
Jelly, wine, home-bread::and hot-hous,
grapes, Honora walked to the ruined
cottage at dusk.
Alas for the squallor and poverty O
the wretched place. candle burning
on the hearth, a gaunt form outstretoh
ed on a heap of straw, with fever-glow
ing cheeks, and eyes rolling restlesslJ
in their sunken sockets, while by tn
door sat faded woman, rocking chile
to and fro in her lap.
81 hope we're not intruding, ma'am,
said she, with something of LADY,
courtesy and accent; "but my husband
could not go farther. We are on ou
way to Omaha, where he thought h
could get employment"
"You are quite welcome to stay here
said Mrs. Bontield, gently; land vii
send you some things from the house t
make you more comfortable. Your hus
bands name is"-
"Black, ma'am, Bolton Black
We've had bad luck, and we though
perhaps he might do better here,
sighed the woman. "But | hearth.
wish we had stayed in England
Honora Bonfeld's heart beat vic
lently as she advanced pace or tw
toward the wretched heap of straw
where the yellow flicker of the candle
light family illuminated face whic'
she would scarcely have recognized
the face of Bolton Black.
He died the next night, and neve
knew that the compassionate eyes G
his old sweetheart had rested pitingl
on him in these last hours.
And the simple headstono that wa
reared over his remains in the GENE
terry was placed there through Honor
Bonfeld's charity.-"World."