Year: 1876




OUT OF THE STORM.


1t was a cold, dreary night without.
The wind blew in wild, heavy gusts, az
though it reigned king. Men hurried
on, with heads bowed and thrust for
ward to cut their way through the storm
little children skunk under the protect
ing shadows of doorways and such rude
shelter as could be found while poor,
wretched women braved the horror OF
that terrible night from dire necessity.
One among them-a pale-faced creature,
with look Of mortal terror in her coun-
tenance, and who seemed to have known
more CHEEKY times-lifted her head from
time to time, scanning the faces she met
in an anxious, questioning way, that
seemed to meet with no response from
the passers-by.


At last, as though she felt it useless to
hope longer, she turned aside to wait un.
der the princely caves of a large church.
To wait! as we all come to do when the
flush of youthful expectancy has passed
out of our lives. "He will not come
perhaps the weather is too severe, yet it
could not keep me within DOORS" she
murmured, desOlation and weariness
creeping over her face; "and then there
remains but one thing to do, and the
sooner that is done the better it will be
for me-; but oh, it is so hard to beg
Only twenty-five, alone, without friends,
and, what is far more necessary
money!


She started forward to meet the glance
of man with kind, pleasant face,
gentle almost as a woman's. She noted
it even then she remembered it through
all the years that came after. "Sir,
am starving. For the love of Heaven,
give me enough to buy single loaf OF
breadp


He was a generous man, as men go
one who gave largely to charitable insti-
tutions--and his name stood among the
first on the church-list; but he was a
man who knew nothing of real poverty,
and withal he did know how many of
the refuse of society obtained a liveli-
hood by begging. So he passed by-as
others had done. Suddenly cut of his
memory crept the words, "Inasmuch as
ye have done it unto one of these ye
have done it unto me-"


Back through the rain and slush he
made his way to find something buried
under heap of clothes. He touched
it, but there was no movement; he spoke
and tried to push bank note into the
open hand, but the woman lay where
she had fallen apparently dead.


What brute l have been! How
could / have forgotten so soon" he
spoke aloud, and the only answer he
had was from the wind and rain. A pO-
liceman passing on his round was hailed,
a carriage called, and he led the inani-
mate form in his arms, saying to the
driver, No. 105 Arlington Place. Drive
fast, and double your fare"


L wonder if she will die; if she does
it will seem like just retribution for
that other" Then tear came into the
eyes and fell on the fair face of the girl.
She was still unconscious, but moment
after and his home was reached.


"Helen, I've done an odd thing to-
night; picked up woman on the street
and brought her home with me the
why and wherefore have not attempted
to analyze. Get her to bed, send Frank
for DR.. Grey, and then let us have din
ner, for l am hungry as wolf, and after
a fashion unnerved. How long is it
since-since that time, Helen 2"


Mrs. Arnold was not young woman,
but there was look in her sweet, beau
tiful face, that age alone had never
brought look that told of some grief
that had been wrought by her own
handsome act which was now ire
trievable, but which she sought to atone
for in every thought and word and deed.
She was a proud woman, but now her
pride was all forgotten, and her voice
trembled and her lips quivered as she
answered, "It will be ten years the six
teenth of this month, Harvey dear -
then hesitatingly, "why have you broken
the silence tonight p


"I hardly know, but If he were not
dead, should believe that in some way
news was coming to us of our lost ones
yes, both, Helen-after all these years"


An hour later servant entered the
room, and announced "Dr. Grey" Mr..
Arnold rose to meet him, while his wife
extended her hand, with, well, Doctor,
De are not in need of your services, but
Harvey has concluded 10 open a hospital
for the poor, aged and infrm, and has
desired to obtain your assistance as head
physician-with an opening case up
stairs"


"Mrs. Arnold, ] wait your pleasure,
refusing for the present all the hospital
ity you offer here below"


Speaking in the pleasant, gracious
manner that people use when performing
an act of charity which does not at all
interfere with individual comfort, Mrs.
Arnold and the physician passed up the
staircase into a bright, cozy room,
where they were greeted by the cheerful
warmth of coal fire, the soft, subdued
glimmer of gasligbts turned down. On
the bed lay the woman they had come
to see, thoroughly restored to conscious.
ness but with a brilliant color on the
cheeks that seemed to betoken fever.


DIR. Grey looked grave as he held the
small, wasted hand in his, and counted
the beating of the pulse. "Too rapid"
he said, under his breath. "No, you
must not talk, but remain perfectly
quiet; rest is what you need. You are
in good hands, and tomorrow, If you
are Debter, you may Ocii aii thae yoo
have on your mind"


There was an air of refinement about
this waif that even fastidious Mrs. Ar
mold noticed; and she saw the look o.
gratitude that welled up from the depths
Of the deep, dark eyes, though the lip
uttered no word. Bending over, sht
whispered, "Wait until tomorrow. The
doctor thinks you require rest, and
dare not infringe upon his orders. Eller
will remain with you, and you may b'
assured that we feel deep interest IL
your welfare. Good night; try ant
sleep"


"Give her these powders every TIVE
hours" said the doctor, and then h,
nasaed out of the room.