Year: 1869

When it rained took my umbrella, and
one day an honest man, carpenter,
think, seeing me early and in damp place
said


"That's good for your rheumatic, old
lady"


Come" said he, " III show you where
you can see the play while you wait


al sec a play" screamed. HWhy
I'd think myself too wicked to live"


He laughed


Your daughter-in-law acts" said he.
"Not my fault, said |, odd feeling creep


q var said lie, now YOU see her,
there is no great harm, as well wait in az
outside y


Perhaps, said |, and somehow he cot
me in, and saw the end of the play; for
the matter of that they had on bonnets. the
ladies in the boxes, and acted respectable
as they might act in meeting. and on the
stage there was house, and woods and
a sky; painted he said, the carpenter, but
| thought them real, and she, Christine,
opened door and came out She saving
something as if she meant it, and the words
were good, and she was sweet and beauti-
full as anything | ever saw, in her pretty
white dress, and forgot the whole, but
was in ffutter between laughing and cry
ing before it was over. And | heard Il
stamping like thunder.


What is it" | asked. 1.-The house
amt on fire z"


It's applause" said lie, they like her
and her playing. Well they may"


Old lady," said he, Whatever bad
you've been used to think of actresses, dor't
think it of your daughter-n-law. Nobody
else ever did. Since she came little
lonesome orphan to play small parts, there
hasn't been one wicked enough to say
wicked thing in her hearing. She's as
pure and true as she looks, and don't be
prejudiced against her, old lady"


I'm not, | said with a sob
Good for you, said he.


And as | looked, there she stood courtc
sying to the people who applauded her
and Ia Baptist. Well, no matter, up
with my umbrella and pegged away ap-
plauding her, the loudest and hardest of
EN-. And the pretty thing looked and
caught my eye, and smiled as bright as a
sunbeam, and it was at me-her husbands
old mother and not at the whiserando in
yellow kidsand eyeglass, though he thought
50, that my dear girl smiled as pegged
away with my umbrella, the tears pouring
down my checks like lain. And, look We,
twant the actress | applauded so much as
the dear good woman I'd seen study to
learn her part when she needed sleep, stich
SO over her handsome looking dress to save
little, the good true woman working her
young life away almost for her husband
and the cross old thing who had insulted
her so often; the woman that. actress or
not, was honest, and earnest, and pure, az
L knew now from my inmost soul And I
was a deal more of a Christian as sat there
than I'd often been in church, not to com
pare the places, and trust to be forgiven.


tucked her under my arm with a kiss
that night, and took her home to Dan, and
| sat down with his hand in one of mine
and Tiny's in the other, and emptied my
heart If | couldn't, think it would have
burst.


My dear girl understood me, aud We
were mother and daughter from that day.
And she set me, that thought so much of
myself, an example, that girl did Trust
ing more, and no matter how dark the
cloud looked, seeing Gods sunlight behind
them, and working, and hoping, and pray
ing, until the struggle was over, and Dan
well again, hearty as ever, thank Heaven.
The doctor called it miracle. Perhrts it
was, for isn't it miracle that He should
answer our poor prayer-as | knew he an
swered ours-for Tiny sake


Dan is rich man now, and his wife
never acts, and though Hannah is well
married, | shall end my days with my
daughter Tiny. She was so glad to get rid
of her acting business; because she hated
the spirit of the playhouse; and the rest
of the folks were drinking set and the
theatre used to seem to her like whited
sepulcher. But it was play or starve with
the poor orphan child; and luckily she
was so good that even the theatre could
not spoil her for which thank an over
ruling Providence