The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-06-30
The Mach,nit.


On one of the cold mornings of last
January stranger, woman, was an
nounced to see me in my study. As 1
rose from my desk to greet her, l was
struck by the peculiar sadness of her
countenance. 1t affected me at once. 1t
was such as the acutest cunning could
not feign.
You are missionary to the-poor, sir,
[ believe"
81 am" said l. Can I aid you? What
are your necessities"
l spoke as kindly as possible to give
her freedom and assurance, and to con-
vince her that whatever might be her
tale of sorrow l was ready to hear it, and
meet it with soothing and cheering SYM
pathy, for it seemed to me, even from
the little she had spoken, that there were
hot tears behind, struggling to gush
forth with every word.
She paused again. There was the
same conflict as before.
Il hardly know how to ask for charity"
at length she said, with a painful effort.
Il am not used to it; but sorrow and
suffering break down the heart, and-we
can do for those we love what we would
not do for ourselves
The swelling channels of her sorrow
could not be wholly confined. Tear
after and tear trinkled down from her
eyes, and fell with mournful sound
upon her dress. She combatted reso-
lutely with her misery, however. and
grew calmer.
ITO tell YOU all in "a few words" she
continued, my husband is a machinist
and has worked for more than five years
in the High Street Furnace; but last
Spring he began to grow weak and fee
BILE. We did all We could for him, but
nothing seemed to do him any good, and
at last he was obliged to stop his work.
He went to the Furnance as long as he
could possibly stand to work, but had to
give up at last; and now for four or five
months what little lie had scraped to-
gether Lad gone by degrees, and beg
gary is staring us in the face"
The poor woman had evidently great
self-command, but her voice had grown
feebler and more broken with her pro-
gress in this simple narration. The last
words she could scarcely articulate.
Have you children" l inquired.
She did not Immediately answer, and
then could only trust herself to MUIR
muir.
Five"
MAY ask your name?" further in
quired.
Graves" was the reply.
"And where is your holne?"
She told me. 1t was near the steam
factory, she said-a low, one story
wood-colored house. could not miss it.
l told her that l would visit her hus-
band the next morning. hesitating to de-
tain her longer at that time, to obtain a
more complete knowledge Of her neces-
sites. l feared to pain ner too greatly,
but she spoke further of her own ac-
cord.
"a friend of my husband" she said,
ga captain of brig, sails for Charles
ton day after tomorrow and has offered
to carry him for nothing. He thinks if
he could try milder climate for while,
and get rid of the spring winds, he might
get strong again. But he is unable to
make use of the opportunity, unless
some one will help him little"
Her voice faltered as before.
"Well, Mrs. Graves" said /, II will
see him in the morning. / trust some
thing may be done for him."
She arose to go. She uttered few
thanks, but her fearful eye was suffi-
GENTLY expression of her gratitude for
the little had said to cheer her.
In the morning, according to appoint
ment, / sought out the low, one-story
dwelling. The door was opened by Mrs.
Graves herself, and, as she greeted me,
something of smile played about the
corners OF her mouth, as though a CLEAN
of hopes blessed sunshine had bright
cred in her heart. followed her into
humble room. Her husband was sitting
BY liable beneath one of the windows,
leaning his head upon his hand. saw
in . moment that she had not exagger.
ented his weakness. He was pale and
emacisted; but as he raised his eyes to
mine NV the imprint on every feature