The Arizona champion., 1884-05-10
WOULD BOTHER HER NO MORE.

Mrs. Gareyman, lady well-known to fashion and public receptions. had just thrown aside a society novel, when ring at the door-bell started her into a realization of practical surroundings, A woman poorly dressed, but with a face of tenderest sympathy, was shown into the room.
 "Here is twenty-five cent piece Tor you," said Mrs. Gareyman, in languid impatience "take it and go along, please"
 "1 want no money" the woman re- piled
 "You certainly can have no business with me-"
 "No kind lady," arranging her old black shawl l would not presume to address you on business, for l, prosper ous lady, have known but very little business in my life. l came to tell you something which, in your high station, may be of little importance to you, but which to me will glow in my heart so long as it shall beat. Several days ago, " and the visitor wiped hei eyes, "you went out to the fence, where your chil- drtn their kindness had begun to play with little girl. She vas poorly dressed, and Ter sad, pale face seemed surprised that children of high order of life should stop her and share their toys with her, but after repeated invita- ton from little boy-your little boy she fingered with the children that cir cumstance had placed above her. That little girls father-the strong and noble father of that child, died in,the defense of his country, but, of course, kind lady, this makes no difference in the eyes of cold society. While those little chil- dren were playing, while that noble boy, knowing no difference only that which God in kindness made-were playing, you came out and said: "Come away from that vulgar looning thing. Haven't l taught you better than to associate with such trash" That noble little boy your son--told you not to speak so harshly; that he had stopped the poor little girl and asked her to join him and his sisters, but you ordered him away and threatened to whip him if he did not come. You felt sorry for the little girl, when she turned away with tears in her eyes, called her back and asked her if she went to Sunday school. She told you that she had gone, but the boys and girls made fun of her clothes, You told her that clothes made no difference, although you showed by your actions that they did make difference. You told her to run along home, and offered to give her a nickel, which, thank God, she refused. Such a cruel rebuH almost broke the heart of the poor thing, and even after she had gone to sleep, she muttered in sorrowful sentences. She said that beautiful lady had talked to her about Christ and offered her money to leave. Madam, that little girl was my daughter. Last night, she died, Oh, don't wiring your hands. l did not come to reproach you. l came to say that she will bother you no more. She was so little and so unused to the ways of life, that she did not know of her in- iringment on your rights. l had always taught her to be obedent, and if she had known how wrong it was to stop and play with your children, she would not have done so: and if Your noble lit- tie boy had known what humiiat on his kind invitation would have caus ,d, he would not have extended it. No, lady, l don't want any sympathy, an l if you had stood at the death-bed of that little girl, you would not have thought that she needed any, On this earth we may not be fitted to associate with some people, but in the world to come-no lady, do not think that you did the little girl wrong, for while she was dying she spoke of the kind lady who offered her nickel.'-[Opie Read in Texas Siftings.