Year: 1866

Z
/ going out. Mrs. Lane was acting on
/ impulse She almost always did: it was
good thing, therefore. that most Of her
( impulses were sweet and gentle and true.
/ Are YOU hungry - she asked, pity
inglv.


| :. 1t dosen't matter so much about me,
! ma'am, could bear to be hungry. but
] don't know what to do for nv mother
/ have tried TO get place to work, bnt
no one will take me. They say a child
/ ten years old is more plague than profit.
/ Mother had to work SO hard to keep us,
and now she's been sick while, and she
/ can't work, and we've eaten up every
/ thing. So | came out TO see if anybody Y
would give me something for mother,
and I've asked at every house in the
( street, and everywhere they said Just the
/ same, that they had nothing to-day.
| Where do you live.-is it far y
Mrs. Lane asked.


Only few steps, ma am-three
streets off -


/ We'll, then. I'll go home with you,
and see your mother Come into the
house, while I put on my bonnet, and
Bridget shall give you some bread and
butter and cold meat.


Mrs. Lanes sweet young face was full
of pity, as she hurridly packed basket
with bread and tea and sugar, for the
sick mother. Then she ran up stairs
and tied on her pretty summer hat, and
down again while the hungry girl was
finishing her breakfast.


Come, little girl, she said, 's W hat
is your name


Ellen Stanton, ma am but my IA
ther always called me Nelly, and 50 does
mother.


And is your father dead p


"Oh, yes that's the way our trouble
began. Father died, and mother wasn't
used to hard work, and she had to work
so hard to keep the baby and me. y


Mrs. Lane asked no more questions,
just then. She was thinking more seri-
ously than she had ever thought in her
life, remembering how she had been
born to ease and luxury, shielded all her
days from care-how her deepest dis
content had been when some other per
sons carpet was handsomer, or their
Indian shawl had deeper border And
now she was going where hunger and
sorrow were tenants. Had she been liv
ing all this time for herself ? She ques-
toned, with sudden pang of terror and
self reproach, whether ever in her life
she had done one really unseltsh act
whether. if the great harvest day were
come, she would have one sheaf to show
to the Master. She had given of her
abundance now and then, of course,
when charitable subscriptions had been
presented to her; but she had thought
it bore and q burden, not a privilege.
OF her own accord, what good had she
ever done-what man, woman, or child
was there to rise up and call her blessed


" Here we are ma'am, y said the child,
breaking the silence.


1t was q two-story, wooden house be
fore which they had stopped. They
went up stairs, and the little girl opened
door.


" Mother,'' she said, ga lady has
come homo with me 10 see you-a kind
lady, who has given me my breakfast,
and brought you yours. -


Mrs Lane stood a moment on the
threshold of the room, and took III such
picture as in her young. happy life she
had never seen before The apartment
was almost bare Of furniture-no carpet
was on the fioor-thcre was only the bed,
three chairs and table But every thing
was as neat as hands could make il snd
against the wall, at the foot of the bed,
hung q framed phetograph-the portrait
of a man with kind, honest eyes. the fea-
lures of which the child Ellen were al
most a copy.


u have come, Mrs Lane said. with
the sweet grace which had made her
welcome guest in far different scenes,
- to see if could arrange something for
your comfort; but, first of all, you must
have some toast and tea, and giving
her little guide some money. she sent her
out TO procure fuel, and sat down herself,
in the meantime. beside the bed where
the sick woman lay, with her baby asleep
upon her arm. The wan, pale face upon
the pillows was not beautiful-Annie
Lane could not be sentimental or roman
tic about this woman-could by no
means idealize her into heroine Yet
there was something good and true in
her expression. and when she turned to
place the baby more comfortably, a light
and glow of mother love illumined her
features till they were better than pretty.
Mrs Lane was not long in learning her
history


Sae had been used all her days to self
dependence Before she was married
she had worked on sewing machine in
a shop, and she understood that business
thoroughly But when James Stanton
married her she had given it up. He
was good mechanic, a carpenter, and
his wages kept them comfortably. They
had not laid up much, however, for du-
/ ring the eleven years of their marriage
three children besides the two she had
/ left now, had come and gone-poor. fee
bic little things that cost great deal


for doctors and medicine. Then, just
before this last baby cams, seaffolding


had given way where her husband was


at work-he had fallen from the fourth


story of house, and had been brough,


home dead She had sold almost al
her furniture. and got along by tha,
means until she was able 10 be about, and


then she had left baby with Ellen, and


gone out to days work of washing and


cleaning. 1t was labor for which she


was not strong enough, but it was the


only occupation she could get, and after