Connecticut western news., 1881-12-14

| sociable, but somehow we did not care
 to emerge from obscurity, and ivet quietly for ourselves, happier even il
 our loneliness than under the patronage
 of these good commonplace people. .-
 So it happened, that much of my time
 was spent at the window where, like Mariana of the Moated Grange, I was
 a-weary, and bJ degrees I fell to watch.
 ing swift little figure in black running
 in and out from the house opposite
 some seamstress, thought, that has
 seen better days, and from her would
 glance to the pale, wistful face of little
 child pressed against the window-pane,
 the child of the wash-lady whom l had
 never seen. We'll, if, the mother was
 rough and brawny, the child was deli
 cate ard dainty enough to, be 8 lady,
 and somehow, from looking at and watching her, I got to making signs and
 trying to coax her over-she was alone so much pitied her-but she never
 came. I would hold up book of
 pictures, or place flower on the
 wmdow-sill, and she would smile and
 clap her little hands. but never came. and at last I, one of the, old Knicker- booker line. crept across the street on
 Christmas evening in the dusk, and ran
 up to the 'twash- -lady's room to ask her humbly for the loan of her little child. I rapped on the door and it was opened quickly by the little woman in black, the seamstress, as I supposed.
 ''Oh!" I said, rather confusedly, 's'1 suppose her mother has not come home yet; came over to see if l could borrow the little girl F 41 a-sl..a., .,i9~ '.'.'' aa7" "Come in,'' said the little woman; ''syou have been very kind to notice her so much, and she has grown really fond of you; come here, Mabel" .~.t. '1.
 But but, |" I stammered, s'are you her mother-the-the-". l-e ....
 "Washwoman Yes; do not be afraid to say it; you see am not" and she laughed, rather sadly, I thought.
 I hid my confused face over Mabel, who was easily persuaded to sit in my lap. She was a lovely child, but so delicate, so frail, that the blue veins could be traced on her temples and hands with threatening distinctness, and she was as light as bird. So this was the woman, whose society I had disdained, this gentle, patient, lady like, almost girlish woman but then, how could she wash such hard, dis agreeable work. Later, she told me that it was all she could do. @.-'fa ', ' .'"'I " I dare say our minister has told you," she said, "that I was the young. est child of Southern clergyman, and brought up to do nothing and know nothing useful. Look at these hands almost parboiled, ain't they? We'll, they've been fortune to me-"
 Poor little wrinkled hands! I am naturally impulsive, and I took them both and pressed my lips to them, he- roic hands !! and the next moment we were sobbing in each others arms.
 Shades of the Knickerbockers and Van Rensselaers We went into part aership that very winter, and I did he fine starching and ironing, and we hired a boy to carry the clothes home. Mabel stayed with mother, who gave Ter lessons, and took her out walking 'very day for her health; Mrs. Simp- 'on- Virginia, as we soon learned to all her thrived on companionship, l nd that winter of servitude was | he happiest of my life. In the spring l was offered a position as organist, not ! pecuniary emolument, but better than roning, but I would not dissolve part. lership with my washlady, and one day Ve were both in the suds when brother .om came hurrahing in, having left his wn drudgery and travelled night and lay to bring the good news that we had 7on the estate! And how we laughed yer the rest of the wash, and made the andsome Tom hang out the clothes.
 But it was the last we did, and to- day 'irginia-that is she practicing Beeth- ven's Sonatas in the next room-is my ister;' and come here, you blessed little omp of a Mabel till your auntie hugs Free Press .r.-- l