Year: 1870

Out in the cold street. There
would be their only home next.


For brief time longer he had the


shelter Of cheerless room in Q


cold tenement house, but the rent


would become due at the end of


the month. and he had nothing to


meet il.


Rober: Brice was . mechanic,


competent and skillful. Three


years since he had lived in a ooun-


try village. where his expenses


were moderate, and he found no


difficulty in meeting them. But in


an evil hour he grew tired Of his


village home and removed to th q


city. Here he vainly hoped to do


better. For q while he met with


very good success, but he found


his tenement house in which he


was obliged to live, a poor substi-


tute for the neat cottage which he


had occupied in the country. He


saw his mistake, but was too proud


to 60 back.


OF course can't have as good
| accommodations here as in the
country he said, but it is some
thing to live in, and be in the midst
Of things


I'D rather be back again. said
his wife, somehow the city doesn't
seem like home there l used to
run in and take tea with a neigh
Dor, and have . pleasant social
time; here I know scarcely any
body


You'll get used to it after q
while,' said her husband.
She did not think 90, but did not
like to complain.


But timeof great depression
came and with it q suspension Of
business enterprises. Work ceas-
ed for Robert Brice and m any 9TH
ers. If he had been in his old
home, he could have turned his
hands to something else, and at the
worst could have borrowed Of his
neighbors till better times. But .
the friendly relations arising from
neighborhood do not exist in the
city to tho same extent as in the
country. So day by day he went
out to seek work only to find him. >
self one Of a large number, all o,
whom we're doomed to disappoint
ment. If he had been al one, he
could have got along somehow, bu'
it was q sore trial to come to &.
cherries room and pale wife and
hungry children with no relief to
offer them.


When on that Christmas eve
Robert Brice went into the streets,
he hardly knew how he was goin.
to redeem the promise he hat i
made little Jimmy. He was abso-
lutely penniless and had been so
for three days. There was moth
ing that he was likely to find to d..
that night.


4 will pawn my coat he said q 4
last. I can not see my wife an, |
children starve.'


It was a well-worn overcoat, an
that cold winter night he needle.
something more to keep him warm
W eakened by enforced fasting, h.
Was more sensitive to the cold, an,
'hivered as he walked along th
pavement.


Yes he said, my coat must go
know not how l shall get alon;
without it, but 1 can not see th
children starve before my eyes,


He was not in general an envi
'us man, but when he saw sleek
veil fed citizens buttoned upt
he throat in warm overcoats, com
nut of the brilliantly lighted shope
rovided with presents for happ
at home, while his wer
tarving, he suffered some bite 7,
houghts upon the inequality .
gifts to come to hi
lind.
Why should they be SO happy,
e so miserable7
There was q time, he remember
] it we'll, when he too suffered nc C
'e Christmas eve to pass withou !.
1ying some little gift for Jimm
Id Agnes. How little he dream e
then that they would ever wan t
.ead. Il
There was one man, shorter thai =,
mself, warmly clad, who passe,
m with his hand thrust deep int. m
e pockets Of his overcoas. Ther q
IS a pleasant smile upon his face IL
e was doubtless thinking Of th =,
ppy circle at home. a
Robert knew him as q rich mer.
ant, whose ample warehouse b. Il