Year: 1877

III the Squire kicks me out, l deserve
it, !" he said. And, with his hat in his
hand, he stood gazing in great confusion
a. the old white-headed gentleman, who,
to his simple mind, represented the
wealth and aristocracy of the land A
King could not have awed his humblest
subject more, though Edward knew
nothing of Kings, and would have de-
clared, if questioned, that every man was
equal.


The Squire looked up his wife laid
down the embroidery at which she was
at work. The unwilling visitor feared
that he was expected to say something,
and had no idea what words to utter
which would fifty convey his compre
hension of the impropriety of his intru-
sion on n strange household. But
Phemie saved HIM further anxiety.


"Papa," she said, this is poor Mr.
Burr's son, and he is going to New
York, to seek his fortune, without any
money but 25 cents, and 1 made him
come to you for advice. / didn't think
he could manage. What do you think ?''


CATER I have talked with the young
man, I'll know better,' said the Squire.


The end of the talk was, that the
Squire said to Edward Burr:


81 think you're boy with a will, and
where there's awill there's way, I'll give
you start. Take this note to Mr. B,
No. =, street, and he will give
you employment. I'll give you ticket
to New York and fit you out SO that you
won't starve for a week after that. Go
ahead. You've got it all in your own
hands, after asking God to bless you


sob, papa, you are SO kind p said
Phemie, as she watched the boy out of
sight.


Now who knows what may come of
that? The bread was cast upon the
waters without a thought that it might
return after many days.


Ten years had elapsed, and Phemie
Hilton sat in a shabby little room in
New York city, wondering where she
could find bread the next day. The old
Squire had been dead two years, and
before he died he had been tempted into
q speculation that had r1ined him, and
his wife and daughter had come to the
city to earn their bread. There the
mothers health had broken down, and
Phemie was forced to leave her position
in school to nurse her Private pupils
had fallen off, and the last dollar was
spent. And now Phemie turned the
paper she had borrowed in her hand,
and s,naon;5 the long vo1uInnp uf ndrcr-
tisements saw one for necktie makers.


"Perhaps L could get work at that to
do at home," she said. 81 will try. I
am able to do anything with my
needle"


An hour after, the poor young lady
found- herself climbing the stairs of a
large building in the business portion
of New York, in search of the establish
ment to which the advertisement di-
rected her


"We don't give work out" was the
reply to her questions, "and we want
experienced hands,"


She was turning away with the little
hope in her breast chilled, when gen
tleman who had been standing at some
distance advanced and addressed her:


81 must be mistaken" he said. 'tTh1s
is not Miss Hilton, Of"


cit is, she said, looking in vain for a
familiar feature in the bearded face be-
fore her. But you have the advantage
of me-"


Naturally, you are not likely to re-
member Edward Burr, whom your
father helped so kindly years ago. But
for your encouragement, however, and
his liberal aid, my life would not have
been what it is now. L can never, never
forget either of you"


''You have prospered then? L am
glad. And this is your place? Per-
haps, then, you will not refuse to give
me work to do at home, now that we are
so poor" And then came the story


Once more Phemie saw the tears stand
in Edwards eyes as she told it, and the
promise that work should be given was
accompanied by request to call. Ed
ward was a gentleman at heart, and
Phemie never guessed that other neck
tie makers would have opened their eyes
in amazement at the enormous price she
received for unskillful performance.


And over her work the girl often sat
smiling; and the mother grew well
again; and one brown-bearded face was
often seen in their parlor, and it was al
ways welcome and, ere many months
went by, that happened which every in
telligent young lady reader has expected
from the first Phemie married Edward
Burr, and, in their elegant home, the
good old 'Squire's widow spent her last
days in happiness and comfort.