Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1893-01-04
NOT A NICKEL, OR A DISH.


modern buildings. Nor were you
whisked aloft in silent elevator
that creature of unseen power
which so often calls up our sympa
thy for the dazed Cinnamon in TIT
streets of San Francisco, who car
only murmur as they watch th'
cable cars skim over the lofty hills
mo pullee, no pushee. Him &c
allie same" These were rickety
worn out stairs, covered with dust
and haunted by squeaking mice
and day by day Elsie and her grand
mother had to climb the whole
'seven pair" The Anticipated
building had been a fine one in its
day, but It's glories were long depart
ed, and now the lower part was &C.
cupied by stores of an Indifferent
class, and the other stories by 9
miscellaneous assortment of CHEAP
dressmakers and cheaper dentists
doctors and music teachers. The
seventh story was where our little
Elsie had lived her whole sweet
life. The only bright, young crea-
ture in the house, she glided up
and down the stairs talking to the
mice, the dirt, and to the dodgers as
they came and went. Singing al
ways when alone, she seemed to
gather the sunshine around her,
which, as it fingered among the raft
ers, lit up the dusty cobwebs until
they glistened like the gold of her
lovely hair.
The grandmother, seamstress,
was pooly paid, since failing eye
sight prevented her from doing
work finely and delicately enough
to bring good prices. Her life had
been spent in poverty and the fric-
ton of passing years had left many
scar on face and character, and
yet natural refinement had kept
her from making acquaintance
among coarse people.
Elsie, however, had one faithful
companion-"Jim." He was a mes
senger in a gigantic bank. His
salary was far too small for a man
of his tastes, and, in consequence
he was in a chronic state of "broke,
which impecunious condition was
considerably aggravated by the willy
janitor of the bank, who was i'll the
habit of advancing the employees
small sums of money for the slight
consideration of two for one on pay
day. On those frequent occasions
when his money was all gone, Jim
returned home to his room in the
attic. Elsie always watched for
him, and, as he would come slowly
up the stairs, his great head hang
ing, tired of himself, tired of his
gay companions, tired of the use
less, wasteful life he was leading,
at the head of the stairs a baby sun
shine would be waiting for him,
and little outstretched arms would
wind around his neck.
I'm so glad you've come, Jim,
darling"
And the little golden head would
nestle closer to the overgrown shout
ders, and closer around his neck
would cling the little dimpled arms.
With all his wild ways the boy
loved this wee waif, who had no
claim upon him or any one else in
the wide world, except the grand
mother stitching YEARLY away in
the other room. His love, however,
was not strong enough to make him
change these wild ways. And yet
there must have been a good and
loving soul somewhere within him,
or else the little one would not have
lavished upon him the love of all
her baby heart.
Christmas was coming soon, and
Elsie, like all the rest of the child
world, was filled with bright hopes
Of its coming pleasures. Some kind
lady who found her among the rub
bish Of the old building had taken
her to Sunday school. There she
had seen the beautiful church, heard
the beautiful hymns, and been told
of the Christ love for little children.
How He had once been little child
Himself, knew all their hearts and
ways, and when they prayed to Him
He would listen and give them what
they asked for. Elsie's eyes would
open wide when she heard of this
wonderful Prince-"greater and
better than jim" The teacher told
how He died for us, watched over
and cared for even the little SPAR
rows that nestled among the caves
of the city's tall houses.
Grandma, does you love GodP"
"H'm," mutterod the old woman.
"Grandma, God loves you. Why
don't you ask him for some of his