Woman's chronicle. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1888-1???, 1889-07-20

the Omnipotent Himself did not weary that the
innocent and weak seemed to have such heavy
loads to carry. At this point in my reflections, |
reached the Great House with it's little people,
some hopping on crutches, others dragging USE
less limb; little pale faces from the city alleys,
pinched and wan from hunger and bad air. pitiful
IN their old youth with the stamp of their parents
sin full upon them; and, as walked between the
rows OF "Mothers' Cottages" as they are called,
and stopped a moment, first at one door and then
at another, to enquire of the ailments that had sent
them to the sea-ar, this other thought came-How
many women had borne children How few really
deserved the sacred name of Mother
My 'Ettle woman, as | called her, had been
moved to The Memorial House, where very i'll pa
tients were always taken.
| found her sitting by her bed, upon which the
little baby lay, smaller if possible than when first
saw it. She smiled as brightly as ever but the
sunken eyes filled with tears as she grasped my
hands and squeezed them tightly.
30! Mrs. H., but you have been kind to me- l
know it's your dsin', all the attention have had.
God bless you, ma am, for it, | ought to have
got well, but just couldn't. Forty-seven and
tired it still is, Maam, though ought not to say
it in this picturesque place. | know | ought to be
be well if | ain It.
elbow is baby, Mrs. Baxter?' as l sat down
beside her.
sWel, Maam, no better, and they tell me she
won't get over it. | believe, though | hope you
won't blame me, l am most glad of it. l have
named her Elenora Alice after two babies as met
here we baptized her last week. but she amt to
live, feel shure, and if a body amt rich and edi-
Gated it's better SO. am poor and wouldn't
unlady myself to compare myself with yeu L
know me betters when | see them, but you will ex-
cuse me when | say, we have hearts and it hurts
some of us poor ones like me when we can't rise.
You see, commenced at sixteen and ought to
know"
looked at her more closely as she spoke and I
could see that when she ''commenced," as she
called it, she must have been very pretty. She
was of the type we call appe-faced, round, with
bright cheeks and sweet blue eyes; the color was
faded now, and the skin grown sallow, but in the
tired, tear-washed eyes there cleaned a spark of
vvacity which she once told me she inherited from
French grandmother.
'These flowers" touching some had laid in her
lap, 'they bring back old days to me; perhaps
you would care to hear my story, since you took
such interest in me. Most people do like me,
though don't know why The doctor likes me,
and stays with me so long, and nurse likes me,
don't you, Ma ann" turning to that functionary
with appealing eyes.
eyes, yes, Mrs. Paxter," was the hastv reply,
and to my surprise l saw the woman touch her
cheek as if to brush away tear, weakness which
she evidently felt beneath her.
"Well Ma am," on receiving my reply that
wanted to hear all about her and that had come
to spend the morning,
''Back many years ago in England lived with
my feyther and mother on the little farm; my! l
can see the long kitchen with its brick floor and
shining pewter dishes ranged on the dresser, the
chairs standing against the wall, and a table by
the window with little white curtain, the hearth
so red, and the great cat always sitting by the fire.
place. Mother was aus so neat that we children
had to be ever so careful. Feyther was good