The Stamford American., 1906-10-11
The Story of
 a Humble Life

opportunities, and not once In hun- dred times did anyone mention what her lack of opportunity had been. Yet 1t was never forgotten by those who knew her, and to her it was a con- stant memory and reproach. And while those who knew her never in. tended to attach to it any suggestion Of wrong on her part, the fact that Josie was born in the poorhouse car. ried to the New England mind an as. sociation of turpitude almost worse than that of actual guilt. In that part of the country sin is bad enough, but the shiftlessness that ends in the poor. house is past redemption.
 Her family had been shiftiess. When her father died. before her birth, there had been nothing for the older chil, dren but to be bound out" After she was born there were a few years in which her mother worked out" and on her death, Josie, still child, did the same. She had a brief acquaint- ance with the district school, which democratic as it was, still perpetuatec her feeling of isolation; and she went to work as soon as her chin was as high as the kitchen sink. and worked out her life till she married. And all the years she suffered the unmerited disgrace of her unhappy birth and childhood.
 She never join ed the church." Per haps no one ever thought to ask her If invited, she was too timid to accept She felt out of place in the meeting house, and rarely attended. slipping in now and then when the service had begun, and slipping out during the closing hymn, which is the same as to say that she washed the dishes before she went, and got home in time to pre- pare dinner.
 The man she married was a laborer. who was counted "shiftless." They had dismal little home to outward appearance, and a sterile garden be- hind it. Yet the morning glories bright ened it somewhat: and if the home was not attractive and it's mistress seldom looked fresh and tidy, it was better than the poorhouse, a million times over, as Josie often said to her self
 Every one called her Josie, and her husband Dan. They belonged to that stratum of New England society that does not rise to the dignity of MT" and Mrs" And they both looked un- kempt, and felt shamefaced in the presence of people who had the fac ulty" of getting on.'
 Dan and Josie lived together for 30 years. lived contentedly, unambitious- ly, untidily, Dan was to be counted on as a hand" in having, and Josie could be called in in an emergency to help in the kitchen. At last Josie fell sick of lingering illness. There was no money laid by for rainy day, and the first thought of the thrifty neighbors was of the relief to be ob- And this was the haunting shadow that hung over the bed of Josie-the fear lest her life should end as it be- gan. And in bitterness and agony she prayed that God would save her hard life this crowning humiliation. To have been born in the poorhouse was bad enough, but to die there, to be buried from there-if this should come to her she never could be happy in heaven.
 Her prayer was answered. Mrs. Briggs remembered how, when Lucille was sick, Josie had come to help her with the cooking; and she sent food and medicine. Mrs. Blodget reminded her husband of Josie's kindness, and he advanced Dan a little money, to be worked out in the next seasons hay. ing. And Mrs. Turner, who had less than either of the others, gave more for she came over and sat up with Josie when she was at the worst, al ternating the vigil with Dan; and when Mrs. Turner gave out, another neigh bor came. If any comfort was lacking Josie did not miss it; and when the women smoothed her pillows, and brushed her hair and performed the simple services which she required her only thought was of their kind ness, of gratitude to God that she was still under her own roof; and not in the nameless place of her haunting dread.
 And so the end drew near. Do you trust God, Josie?" asked one of the women, feeling that it was time to say something to Josie about | her soul.
 "Oh, yes, and I thank Him, thank l Him!" she replied. And I thank you ! too. If I'd been a queen you couldn't 1 have done more for mel"
 l It was a word to make them blush and smile, for what they had done was little enough. But they had been kind and it meant more to her than they
 knew till the very last.
 'I think shall die today" she said;
 and they told her the end was indeed | near.
 l I'm so glad!" she said, and they 1 did not understand at first. 'Tve never 1 .hoor Q fraid of hell" she went on. 's]