The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-04-01

eyes ana near0 neaVy sign as Sne
turned to her husband, who was busily
engaged in reading, and said to him:
" Robert, do you not see look like our
dear Maud in this poor boys eyes7
Thank God, our darling never knew
what it was to want for all her little
life. Fritz, is that your name ?"
The gentleman raised his eyes slowly,
listlessly, and met Fritz's timid gaze,
and without word instantly dropped
them again; but in that moment, in
all his poverty and rags, he had crept
unconsciously into those two lonely,
childless hearts.
After he had got through playing,
Mrs. Robson opened the door and
called him in. No more working for
pennies that day, for after telling his
story basket, loaded with all that
could satisfy those little hungry mouths
for days to come, was put into his hands,
besides whole silver dollar. Never
had Fritz had so much money in his
life. 1t was indeed a new and brighter |
experience, and as he hurried back
with his treasures, his face was so JOY |
GUS Madge didn't know what to make |
of it; but when he told the whole story |
and how he had promised that she
should come and sing next day for the
lady, she laughed such bright, merry
laugh as had never before been heard
in that dreary room.
Look here, Madge, and here, and
here" and Fritz opened the basket,
displaying all the goodies and the shin
ing coin. "Sha'n't we have treat?"
And so indeed they had.
And then came the time for prac
ticing, that Madge might do her best
for the grand lady in the morning.
They were very happy little people sit
ting together that night. Madge's pale,
delicate face, so unlike those around
her in that squalid tenement, began to
look like childs into whose life had
come an inspiration, in which she for
got the degradation and wretchedness
that had made her so very old for her
years.
What change in one short dayl
cheerful fire, candle, plenty to eat,
and, above all, little kindness had
fallen upon their young hearts, causing
the germs of hope and faith to spring
up in that hard soil of poverty and suf-
fering: and yet, happy as their young
hearts were, they knew nothing as yet
of that Heavenly Father who had given
them these wonderful and unexpected
blessings.
The next morning found Madge with
her blue eyes wide open at a very early
hour. She was to help dear Fritz to-
day, and, above all, to see the good lady
and her beautiful house.
1t was worth great deal to see the
bright, earnest face under her shabby
hood, her faded gown, her small feet
hidden in a pair of ragged shoes, her
quick step and womanly ways, as she
prepared to accompany "Fritzy" on
the morning in question. Fritz was
very fond of his little sister, and he
thought every one must admire her as
much as he did. He was noble boy,
in spite of his poverty, and whatever
his troubles were there was always SUM-
shine in his heart, made by the music
of his fiddle and the sunshine of his
dear little sister Madge.
y
1t was now three weeks since she had
sung every morning at the fine house
with Fritz and the old violin. God had
tempered the winds to these dear chill
dren. Meanwhile the winter days were
passing, and the soft spring winds came,
|
filthy alleys; nevertheless, they brought
refreshment and sunshine. Every day
Madge was winning her way more and
more into Mrs. Robson's desolate life,
for in Madge she had traced even a
child than in Fritz. She thought of
her increasingly, and watched for her
coming with an irresistible longing.
Dnl aa,,1J ,a1,, 10, 10, I'D
the strange hold these poor children had
already taken upon her heart, which
went out to them in plying tenderness.
Even her own life had worn so much
. brighter an aspect since that first morn
ing when little Madge, in her faded
. gown and thoughtful, gentle ways, had
! sung under her window for the first
,, time.
g i can't lose sight of that child. II
, was no accident that brought her here
but an overruling Providence. cant
=, help thinking l have mission to per
) form towards her." she would say to
herself; and as for Madge, poor child
! she always felt as if something hat
been added to her desolate little life
/, whenever " the grand lady" spoke o.
. even looked at her.
But there came day when the chill
q dren were absent from the gate
= Another passed, and yet another
What could it mean? Taking her car
" riage, and ordering the driver to go t.
, the old tenement in the lane WHERE
v they had told her they lived, Mrs. Rob
y son herself passed through the close
4 warm alley, made foul by dirt ant
" noisy by many voices, and up severa
q flights of stairs to the poor, comfortles
. room where two little lives lay in tn
i delirium of fever.
At Already Fritz's feet were lingering
n upon the shores of the dark river
/ Each faint breath might be his last
"a while in the farther corner of the room
" life and death were making their las
y struggle orlittle Madge. The momen
"a that Mrs. Robson took in the situation
"a she sent home to her husband to com
to her without delay, whenever h
n should return home, bringing with hin
c all necessary comforts; and then re
n lieving the kind woman who lived be
~ low stairs, who, with her own numei
/ Gus family to attend to, had done wha
~ she could for these poor children-fo
" the poor are proverbially kind to tn
70 poor-she took her station bytheir side
~ hushed almost to breathlessness by tn
aNufttl chnIAty tbnt N