The Penn's Grove record., 1889-02-23
NUMBER 80.

on the dirty mantle and with strong
fingers sent 1t crashing through q
broken pane into the court below. She
Looked steadily at the girl EN-, and
said in low distinct tones:
rs not this girls true name Ella
Hilton, and did you not entice her
from her home a year ago last Augustp'
Ems defiant look fell. 'She was old
enough to know her W mind. She
said her mother wasn't good to her,
Argument was useless. DR.. Mary
now knew that she had found Sarah
Hilton's lost child, and, with q deep
tbrob Of thankfulness, she went away
TO make preparation for getting the
girl out of the hands OF her worthless
companion.
Perhaps even EN- may be redeemed
some day. thought the doctor. Heaven
hasten the hourv
Nearly two years later. Or. Mary
alights from her plain carriage at the
iron gate of a handsome bull ling, with
spacious grounds, lofty trees, and we'll
tended flower beds.
No high sounding title is ~enblazoned
above tie wide door; no suggestive
name conveying a half reproach, and
tending I'd repel rather than to attract
those whom the place is designed to
benefit. The simple word REST"
wrought into the brick work tells OF
broken hearts made glad again, OF
storm-spent, buffetted lives taking Up
once more the light burden OF daily
usefulness, Of the lost and widely
p,O,rnnI HnItno ono onnttapr nf IQQf
The rich have built the material
walls out o the abundance, but the
gray-haired woman and the thoughtful
eyed younger one at her side who stand
in the doorway to welcome their Idol.
well know how DR.. Mary values their
work and their help.
It's like the shadow OF a great rock
in a weary lani.' Heaven put 1t into
| the souls of men and women to build
still othersl' thinks D.. Mary as she
Clasps hands with Sarah Hilton and
her daughter.
She moves through the rooms with
kindly words for the busy occupants.
and stops longest by a sewing-machine
where sits a girl with black eyes and
dark, abundant hair, a girl whose face
lights up as she ceases h play OF the
treadle to return the DOCTORS earnest
greeting.
Doctor, l want to tell you about a
letter l received yesterday. 1t was
from Tom, the man l told you Of
once;' her cheeks took on a deeper
crimson. 'He-wants me to marry him
now. He says he has a little home out
West, and he will come for me next
pnnnfh vNa ann ltvn dannnt and ra-
spectacle out there, and no n can
twit US with what's past and gone.'
DR., Mary puts her arm around the
girls pely shoulders.
'ThA good news, indeed, EN-, and
l rejoi6 18th you from the bottom OF
my heart. lou must be SURE and write
to me whe Sou are settled A look
OF pleasureN ANS on the girls face,
and tears are tandin- on her black,
curling lashes, as she gazes after the
DOCTORS moving form.
She's an angel Of God. If it hadn't
been for her, L should be a poor. lost
scorned creature to tn s day. She be-
lieves in giving folks a chanceP
The tears rolled down the softened
outlines OF her cheek now, and she
resumes her work, pressing her hand
with a caressing movement on the letter
in the pocket Of her neat gingham
gown, and the burden OF her soundless
song that keeps time in her heart to
the steady whirr OF the machine is this
and ever this, To llye decent and re-
spectacle. Never to be twitted OF
what's past and goner
And l. Eudora Blake, who pen this
chronicle and brief ABSTRACT remind
DR.. Mary, when she comes home filled
with enthusiasm and renewed energy,
Of that discouraged moment when she
sighed:
Il wish 1t were possible to find one
human being whom | could t uly helpl'