Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1893-09-08
AT THE DOOR OF THE MISSION.
How One of tho Poor OutcaSts Wondered
at the Young Lady Worker.

How One of tho Poor OutcaSts Wondered
at the Young Lady Worker.
She stood with arms folded, leaning
against the lamp post in front of the
little mission Sunday-school on Clark
street. She was only the miserable
ruin of what had once been remark
ably beautiful woman. The children
within were singing some old time
Sunday-school songs and two or three
times the sound of her voice mingled
with theirs. A carriage drawn by fine
black horses drew mp very near to
where she stood, and tall, handsome.
~ dressed young lady alighted anC
went into the mission room. The ruin
by the lamp post smiled grimly and
shook her head.
Edging little nearer to her re-
porter asked: "Doyou know that young
lady?"
She started, gave Il quick, searching
look and replied: "No, sir. That is, l
am not acquainted with her, If that is
what you you mean, But know who
she is; see her here every Sunday.
love to watch her when she comes. She
steps so light and pretty, and looks so
happy. Though do suppose she some-
times thinks herself very miserable and
unhappy. o, Lord! it makes me laugh
and it makes me cry"
She paused, laughing sort Of hard
ugly chuckle.
What makes you laugh and cry?"
20, to remember. Sir, you may not
believe me, but it is as true as preach
ing. was once rich and handsome
and light-hearted as that girl is now.
was proud, too; very proud. That's
what makes me cry, sir, for know
can never go back again And laugh
when remember what little things
used to make me sad. used some times
to think had great deal of trouble
in those days, but did not know what
trouble was then. have learned since.
II wonder, sometimes, if that pretty
thing will ever learn what real sorrow
means. wonder if her heart will ever
be crushed and bleeding thing; If she
will ever be dead while she liveth il
she will ever love--love with all the
strength of her woman's nature-one
who she believes to be part of her
rery being, soul of her soul, light of
her life. wonder if she will think he
is all that is pure and noble, generous
and unselfish, manly and brave.
wonder il she will he deceived; il she
will learn, when it is everlastingly too
late, that he is base, ignoble, selfish
coward. | wonder if he will leave her
alone. and poor, stranger in strange
city; il she will ever wander, at mid
night, i'll and homeless, hungry, cold,
and forsaken, up and down the streets
of Chicago with his child on. her bosom;
if she will look out over the dark
waters of Lake Michigan while her
whole frame trembles with an awful
temptation and thinks how easy il
would be to end her pain,
81 wonder if she will ever look for
the last time on the face of her precious
baby, and it will be still and lifeless; il
she will kiss its lips and eyes and find
them cold, and then part forever from
the last thing she has on earth to love
and care for. wonder if she will go
downward then, faster and faster, un-
til she reaches the bottomless pit OF
the slums of this great city. And then,
sometimes, will she look from her de-
graded position, from her horrible pit
of mire aud clay and see him, honored
and petted by society, and respected
by his fellow-citizens? Then, wonder
will she think God is cruel"
She shut her lips hard as she finished
speaking stood silent for moment
then, without taking notice of the re
porter, as though she had been speak
ing to herself, went across the street
and entered door over which was
sign reading: Ladies' entrance. ",
CHICAGO Tribune