The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-01-01
TEN LITTLE TOES.

IT was the twenty-third of December,
a cold mist had been falling, freezing as
it fell, the sky was grey, and the short
winter afternoon was fast growing into
night. Up the struggling village street
a little urchin was trudging along, not
cheerily and with boyish whistling, but
slowly and painfully, stopping every
now and then to give pull to the ragged
wooden socks, which were all the cover
ing his little feet possessed. The cob
ble-stone walk was slippery with the
frozen sleet, and often the poor little
chilled feet stumbled and hurt them
selves cruelty; but their owner was one
of those pitiful examples of how
even suffering can become expected,
and he endured his bruises with q pa
thetic patience. After the row of cot
tages on each side of the inn-above the
door of which swung the sign of the
"Half Moon'-came the church, with
its iron gates, open to-day, for busy
hands were bringing holly and ivy and
laurel, to ''make beautiful the home of
the Lord" for the ''white day" of the
year. Beyond the church stretched the
grass fields, and then the ivy-topped
low stone wall of the village garden.
Away and beyond that were rolling
fields, and then at half q mile distance
the great stone pillars and gates of
"The Cedars," the residence of Mr..
Fairbanks, the owner of the great mills
in the hollow, where heavy machinery
clattered and doomed from morning till
night.
AS the child passed the church he
heard voices, and stopping minute he
looked through the grating, wondering
dimly if the "gentlefolks ever, ever
starved in the cold"
Mrs. Ellsmore, the Wears wife, was
coming out, her hands full of cleaning
berries and shining leaves; she was
talking pleasantly to the old sexton who
was locking up the church.
BE sure and have good fire in the
vestry tomorrow, for we will be down
early" she was saying as they came
through the gates 'and, Andrew, take
care of your rheumatism; it is cold to-
night"
faye, madam, it do be bitter cold,
it's loike snow," and pulling his hair to
the lady, Andrew shuflled off.
Turning quickly, Mrs. Ellsmore near
ly stumbled over the crouching figure of
the child, who sat down to rest on the
tItone ledge outside the iron fence.
"Well, little boy, and who are your"
she said, stopping a moment.
"Oime Bobby" he answered, gazing
into her face with the wistful look of
some dumb animal.
Mrs. Ellsmore smiled.
"Where do you livep"
"Down there" jerking his head to-
ward the hollow.
"Oh, your father works in the mill PSI
"Ns, he's turned off; wen the mails
ter turned off the hands, fathers name
was drawed."
A shadow crept into the kind eyes
watching him. 1t was the same old,
pitiful story; how often she had heard ii
that winter. Trade was dull, and lust
as winter was coming on Mr.. Fairbanks
had closed part of his mills and turned
off half of his hands. They said when
the news was told them great cry went
up from the men; in an instant they saw
what would ADMINISTRATION for the
wives and the little ones. Other mill
owners had done the same, but others
still had kept on their hands for the
winter, only shortening the hours. Mr..
Fairbanks was Just master but hard
one, and now many brawny fist was
shaken stealthily after him as his car
riage rolled past the cottage windows.
Mrs. Ellsmore thought of all this as she
looked down into the little pinched face.
"Where are you going, child?" she
asked, gently.
"'Oime come fur granny, the baby's
crying himself into fits, an mother
doan't know what ais it,
"Where does granny livep"
"Down t. lane. 'Oime getting stiff, ="
and he dragged himself up feebly.
81 should think you would get stiff
sitting there, come home with me and
get warm, and I'll give you something
for the baby, come" and Mrs. Els
more held out her hand. "Have you
hurt yourselfP" she asked, as the child
gave sort of moan.
"'Oime thinkin' 'oime fast" he said,
ruefully. 81 don't see as 1 can move
on" pointing to his feet. True enough,
the poor little bare toes, damp with the
misty fallen sleet, had frozen fast to the
stone pavement.
Tears sprang to Mrs. Ellsmore's eyes
"My poor child what are we to doP''
The child looked wonderingly at hel
that this pretty lady, with her white
hands and soft warm furs and shining
dress, should really cry for him was
something too extraordinary to be be-
Neved.
81 can get 'em off," he said, present
ly, "but," with a sudden thoughtful
ness, "you might turn yer head, num-
it'll be some bloody, 'oime thinkin'."
Seeing he really wished it, Mrs. Ellis
more turned away her head, waiting til
the boys voice-a little unsteady-said
Snow, num-" Then she knelt dowr
quickly to bind up the little thin feet in
her handkerchief, hastily torn in two.
A dog-cart ratified up quickly behind
her, stopped, and pleasant voice said