Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1884-01-10

removal they were excellent people,
and Mr.. Thrones name was foremost
in all charities, of which the school
fund was the principal one"
| tossed the letter away, and my
heart and thoughts went out to the lit
tie girl struggling, perhaps, just rs
was struggling, fighting the same hard
battle, bearing the same heavy burden,
only with less strength than |. tried
to find her, why, do not know, unless
| fancied it would make both loads
lighter to feel the other near. But all
was IN vain, and year glided into year,
and the yearning of my heart grew less,
though my love never did. l laid the
silken purse with its floss monogram
"M. t." away, and laid with 1t the
sweet hopes and memories of the one
felt was lost to me. Then | went
back to the battle Of life again, fortified
and defiant.
Yet never a speech did make in a
crowded court room that it did not
seem to me the influence Of Mary
Throne insensibly and invisibly affect
ed it. Never book did | read but
that the pureSt, sweetest character in it
l felt was suggested by and suggestive
of hers. Never fair face did | see
but hers was before me, in the full
bloom of her beauty whose opening
tints remained in memory still.
And ten years had come and gone,
and the SHOWS of an early winter lay
upon the streets and house tops, and
shook from the leafless branches of the
trees as they swayed to and fro with
a doleful sort of cadence, and sharpened
the already cutting air. Yet, spite of
this, the lights Of the city shone with
brilliance undiminished, and OCCASION
ally aboYe the signing of the wind rose
the echo of merry laugh, broken
/ song, or d strain of music then the
hluu hdS uppCLhOoU aSdlH'
The clock in the old Trinity was
striking twelve, l Lad passed into
Broadway, had buttoned my coat
tightly about me, and was waiting for
a cab to carry me homo. You see l
ride in cabs nowadays ;they are one of
my faYorite follies, and throw money
into a good channel of circulation.
The last chime had died away, and on
ly the hum of changing bells remained.
l looked down the street in search of
my cab, and straightway looked back
again, at the sound of low voice at
my elbow.
IL beg pardon, SIR hut can you
direct me to the Bowery, please ?"
Looking down l. saw the shrinking
form of woman leaning against the
lamp-post at my side The voice was
low and inexpressively sweet, and al
most lost beneath the shawl which cov-
cred the head and shoulders so COM
pletely that only the white outline of
the face was visible yet there was
something about either the face or the
voice which attracted me irresistibly.
"The Bowery ?" 1 repeated ~
can scarcely direct you, it Is so very
far from here"
"How far please ?"
There was mute appeal in the voice
and it seemed for all instant to magne-
tie me. 1 caught glimpse of bright,
dark eyes shining behind the shadow of
the shawl as mechanically replied
"Au least an hours walk. Is there
anything l can do for you ?''
"No-yes-no ; l must find the
Bowery."
cat this hour of The night ?" 1t is
very cold, and their are many dam
gers"
"Cold ! What is cold when the
brain is afame What are the dan
gers to a starving wretch like me ?"
She staggered back against the lamp
post for support.
"Pardon me, sir, for speaking so, for
speaking at all but l must find"
The voice died away entirely now,
and was lost in a great convulsive
sob that shook the little figure as the
beating of the storm does a reed, and
me back in my life to the old turnpike
road, with its arcade of naples, and
the lite girl who was bidding me
good-by. A spirit of the lost one
seemed to pervade me, and placing my
hand on the shrinking figure | said
"If you are in need | will assist
you"
"In need !" she repeated. ooh,
sir, the words are feeble | am starv-
ing, sir We are starving-mOther,
the children and | at home | am no
beggar, but we must have relief, and
if | could find the Bowery | would
part with this-his ring"
She slipped something from her fin.
ger, and at the same time the shaw
dropped from her face. 1t was | who
staggered backward now, and clun9
white and trembling to her arm, for
getful of everything but the one hope
| 4 L i 4 L L