Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1880-02-13
The BALLAD SINGER.

poor WOrn-iooklng woman, who brought
a broken glass containing water to the
side Of the bed as the child called her.
Il wish father would come; he said
he'd bring me an orange" and Bessie
sank back, and began again her restless
tossing from side to side, while every
sound on the stairs brought an eager,
expectant look on her pinehed features,
as if she was waiting for some one.
The mother sighed. She had long
since lost all trust in her husbands
promises, for the love of strong drink
had taken hold of him.
Hours went by, but no father came to
the expectant Bessie, who moaned with
pain, and turned away from the bread
which was all mother had to give. Not
a penny was in the house, no fire, no
food for the sick child, and poor Mary
Brien sat with her infant in her arms,
trying to hush its cries, as she pondered
how she might earn few pence to get
food for Bessie; she could not leave the
children and go to work, even if she
had been strong enough. She had not 8
friend in all the great city to help her,
for she was a stranger and country bred.
Only month before her husband had
| brought her to London with the promise
Of keeping from the vice which had dis
graced him in his own village. That
month had been a time of worse suffer-
ing than before. Not only had Brien
| given way to drink, but Mary herself
had been i'll and laid aside, and now
Bessie grew worse daily for the want
of proper food
All this the poor woman thought over
during the long day hours, and she could
see but one course for her-she had still
a clear, sweet voice and shameful and
! degrading as it seemed to her, she re-
solved, as evening fell, to go out into
the streets, and try thus to earn some
thing, if only penny, with which to
| buy Bessie her orange.
"Mother'n not be long DEAR" she said,
bending down to her sick child, as she
fastened her shawl around her with
| trembling fingers. Mother is going to
get you an orange, and she'll soon be
back"
A faint smile passed over the little
face, and Bessie lay still, listening as her
mother went down the dark creaking
stains, with the baby in her arms, and
out into the sharp night air. Tho child
was content, knowing that the promise
would be kept.
Once in the street, poor Mary Brien
walked on few yards, in doubt where
to go. It must be somewhere away from
her wretched room. in some place where
mothers lived with happy, well-fed
children, in comfortable ehomes-mnthers
whose heart God might touch with pity
for the singer. On she went, till streets
and courts, and dirty, fever-striken alleys
were left behind; turning into quiet
road where she saw light shining from
behind drawn curtains, she began with
a trembling voice to sing little ballad
| she had sung in her girlhood, many
time, as she worked by her mothers side
in her country home. No one needed
/ the singer-the song was ended, and no
voice called her. What was she to do?
A picture of Bessie lying on her miser-
! able bed rose before the poor mother
Of Bessie crying withpain and weariness.
20 God, have mercy on me! Send
help to ME IN my great need, ;" was the
cry of Il > burdened heart, and once
more Mary Brien sang-an old plantive !
song; and now there was no trembling
in the tones of her Voice-something |
seemed to tell her she had not asked
Gods help in vain. Presently cur
tain was drawn back from a window,
and a fair little face appeared.
Back now, to the narrow streets and |
passages-but oh, how light was her
heart Sixpence in her hand, besides |
pieces of meat, bread and other things
wrapped in a parcel and carried under |
her shawl. What riches it seemed |
Entering shop, Mrs. Brien bought tW1 |
oranges, and look them up to the wait
ing child, who smiled so gladly at the
sight.
at was Gods doings, Bessie" said the
poor mother. "I'm afraid I've been for
getting Him long time, and yet he is
good to me. I asked him to touch some !
ones heart and He did it."
Perhaps He would make father good |
if you asked, mother" said the dear
child, forgetting for the moment her
delight.
Far into the night Mary Brien thought |
Of those words as she waited for her |
husbands step, yet waited in vain.
Never yet had she made that prayer to |
God but she made it then, and asked |
that her husband might be brought |
back to his own self-the steady honest |
man he had been when she married him. |
A week went by, and nothing was seen
Of Brien. Again and again his wife went |
out in the evening to sing, for thus only |
could she find a way of earning bread;
for though sometimes she brought back
only a few pence, she never came empty |
handed. But her prayer for her hus-
band remained unanswered-God'st time |
had not yet come, Meantime Bessie's |
little life failed fast-no food, no care |
could help her now, the doctor said one
evening as he went away from the poorly |
furnished attic. All that night Mary |
Brien sat by her dying child, with tears
alling down her thin cheeks. Asmorn-
ng dawned, heavy footsteps came up |
the narrow stairs, straight to the room |
where Bessie lay half conscious, but 1t
aroused her
'Father, fatberp she cried, as the
door opened, and Brien staggered in.
"You didn't bring my orange, but mother
did. She went and sung, and God made |
the rich people sorry for her, Oh, fatherl |
be good to her for She has been praying
for it, and there'll be no one but you
left, except the baby, for I'm DYING" )"
and the dear child sank back exhausted.
The last word went a good way to
sober Rsien. Dying! his little Bessie
dying! He had cared for her once,
until the horrid drink had drowned
every good and fatherly feeling; now he
went with unsteady steps to the bedside.
"Bess-look at me-" he said. "I'll bring
thee an orange, don't want to be bad
father to thee I'll mind that, will"
but the ehi1ds eyes had closed forever
in this world, and she would need no
love o. care from parents again.
For days Brien sat in heavy, silent
grief IN a darkened room, thinking re-
morsefllly ofthe past. 1t was then he
saw the sin ami folly Of the course he
had been following; it was there, by his
child that he promised never again to
give away to the wee which had brought
misery and sufferfgg to little Bessie.
Nor did he promise in vain; for that
was the beginning 81 better days, and
Mary Brien could no. ~ejoice that God
had heard her prayer 81 red her hus-
band.
It was not long before re they
had their tidy rooms, ia {S4lls several
other children were born t. them; and
though they were often hard-pressed
and anxious, they never again sank down
into the misery and distress which had
taken Mary Brien out as a singer in the
London streets to get an orange for little
feverish Bessie.
Sometimes the children wonder why
mother can always spare haH-peppy