Connecticut western news., 1893-06-29
SANDY'S BESSIE.

One beautiful afternoon a few days after Davie Gillespie's visit turned into Second avenue from cross street to see Sandy MacNab about some committee business for Caledonian club picnic Just before l reached the shoeshop, how ever, little girl emerged from the throng of passersby and entered the door. She was thin, pale, puny child of the kind the cities breed, stoop shouldered, narrow chested, i'll nour- ished, almost untaught except in the hard school of experience. fingered outside moment, waiting for Sandy to dispose of his customer before entering, but as the little girl did not appear opened the door.
 Fifty cents; fifty cents," Sandy was shouting as stepped inside. "Canna 70 understan that, ye puir heathen? Fifty cents."
 He was standing before his bench, ges- ticulating, with pair of newly soled shoes, two sizes too small for the girl, who stood in mutely submissive atti- tude before him. Sandy has always res olutely disdained learning any foreign \ oc06A6Cts isn't good enough for his customers they can go elsewhere.
 "Meine mutter ist todt," began the child's gentle. accomplishing voice. "und"-
 "Come hither, Owen," cried the old man impatiently. "Can ye tell what is't the lass wantsY'
 The girl told me her story. Her mother was dead. She was the oldest of four children, and had seen eighteen years, though she looked but fourteen. She and two other children had got work tailor's piecework-and they were all living somehow, but it was very hard. She had the money for mending the shoes. but the neighbors had told her that "der Herr MacNab" was such a kind hearted man, and SO
 The look of puzzled inquiry .a Sandy's face changed to tender regard as trans lated Before 1 had finished he was nodding his head energetically in token of compliance and wrapping up the shoes in sheet of newspaper. Then he put them into the girls hands and gently pushed her toward the door.
 'Achi Du ieber Gottp' said the child, and dropping reverent Old World courtesy, she turned to go.
 "Whaur are ye leevin. lass?" said Sandy, following her to the door. 1 ex- plained the query, and she gave him an address near by. Sandy tucked crum- pied bank note into her hand, and as he put pinch of Maccaboy to his nostrils a moment later thought saw his hand lodging suspiciously about his eyes. The girl looked at the bill in 8 daxed sort of a way for moment, and then dropped another courtesy, this time to tho door of the shop, and was gone.
 "Puir mitherless bairns," said Sandy, Ine he began loud rat-tat on the sole of shoe. Presently he paused and in- quired, What said she as she gaed ootY'
 ''She said, 'Ah, thou dear Godr" re- piled. "lt was prayer of thankfulness."
 ''Puir bairnl puir bairnp' said Sandy, stopping his work to take another pinch of snuff. "She pits the proud an michty to shame wi her simple faith. An cad her heatheni Hech, Owen, lad, it's . sair warl for bairns desertit by their ain kin. Think o't, moni In O this great ceety four little anes fechtin wi want an poverty an hunger by their lane in a garret, the prey O the evil an de- signin, scorn'd by them that's no their betters, neglectit by the powerful, except by way O robbery, wi ne'er sicht of the fiels an wavin woods O the bonny country or the wash O the sea; withoot time or strength for childish play-eh, Owen. What if my Janet-na, na, bet ter as she is, puir little one, unner the sod f the kirkyard that leevin sac be- set." and Sandy dropped his head into his hands. had never heard him allude before to his wife and daughter long dead in Linhthgow.
 Its an owre lang tale to tell" said Sandy, after a moments pause, seeming to find gentle comfort in speech of his loved and lost ones, but pse cut it short r the tellin. Ne'er a mon in a Scotia was so blithe as Alexander Mac Nab the day that made bonny Bessie his bride nor for mony 8 year after. The bairnies cam, two O them, but wee Sandie deed in infancy an ainly Bess was left to cheer the little hame an mak' bright the ingle neuk Yet, still we were happy, sac happy, till Bes- sie-she was ne'er strong. nor her mither seemed to weaken, day by day, an fade oot an waste awa', till her face was pale an clear wi the awfu' wilderness O the great hereafter shinin through the vail O flesh. Eh. she suld ha' made a bonny angelr'
 Here Sandy paused abruptly, and for some minutes sat silently breeding over the past. did not interrupt him, and presently he began to speak again in a low, tremulous voice:
 "Sas she went, lad. Better 30, per haps. in a the purity of childhood. An the wife was like bruised and broken fow'r that droopt an droopt weel. An r the kirkyaxd they were sune side by side. an g was pit dark ss nicht to me. Frien's O my youth, who had lang syne leevit r the new Ian, begged me sair to come to them, an sac, as all the warP was the same to my reft hAirt, cam an here l hae leeved my lane, waiting till the Lord is pleased O his infinite maircy to ca me to my ain. A wounds heal f time. they say, an fve-and-twenty year is lang eneuch. but the scars wi me yet, Owen, the scars wi me yet. an will be till my deeing day, an canna see . wee bairn warslin wi this wicked warf like the puir Dutch lass. but maun think: Hoo, if 'twere Bess? My ain wee BessieY
 And the old man, dashing his hand across his eyes to clear away mist that was not all of age. drew from his inner vest pocket one of those old fuShionad .favuarreOfvra fl caR0a that mad