Year: 1873

| ulOilk uU lcHStll' clOh Vc'IlpcSt WluIl-


out only gives point to the indoor


comforts of the wealthy but it chills
the very marrow Of the poor and des-


tiute."


"Ah, indeed!" shifted the widow


with shiver "If it were not for the
charity of good Christians, what would
poor folks do for comfort on such an
evening as this?"


'It was that very thought, my
daughter said the monk, with a sud
den earnestness on his shining face,
shat brought me forth even now
through the storm to your cottage"


Heaven reward you!' cried the
widow fervently.


'lIeaven does reward the charitable
replied the monk. "To no truth do
the Scriptures lear such constant and
unbroken witness, even as it is written:
'He that hath pity on the poor lendeth
unto the Lord and look, what he lay
eth out it shall be paid him again


"What a blessed thing it must be
to be able to do good!" said the wild
ow, piously, wishing in her heart
that the holy man would not delay to
earn his recompense.


'My daughter" said the monk, "that
blessing is not withheld from you. 1t
is to ask your help for those in greater
need than yourself that l am come to-
night" And forthwith the good
brother began to tell how two strang-
ers had sought shelter at the monas-
terry. Their house had been struck by
lightning and burned with all it con
tanned; and they, themselves, aged,
poor and triendless, were exposed to the
fury of the storm. sour house is a
poor one" continued the monk. "Tne
strangers lodging room is already full
and we are quite without the means of
making these poor souls comfortable.
You at least have sound roof over
your head, and if you can spare one
or two things for the night, they shall
be returned tomorrow, when some of
our guests depart"


The widow could hardly conceal her
vexation and disappointment. Now,
dear heart, holy father!' cried she, "is
there not rich body in the place, that
you come for charity to poor widow
like me, that am in case rather to
borrow myself than to lend to others?"


"Can you lend us spare blanket ?"
said the monk. "These poor stran-
gers have been out in the storm, re-
member"


The widow started. "What med
ding busybody told him that the baro-
ness gave me new blanket at Michel
mas ?" thought she; but al last, very
unwillingly, she went to an inner
room to fetch a blanket from her bed


"They shan't have the new one,
that's flat" muttered the widow and
she drew out the old one, an d began
to fold it up, But though she had
dweltupon its thickness and insufficient
cy to the baroness, she was so power
fully affected at parting with it, that
all its good qualities came strongly to
her mind.


"It's very suitable size," said she
to herself, sand easy for my poor old
arms to shake or fold. With careful
usage it would last for years yet; hut
who knows how two wandering bodies
that have been tramping miles through
the storm will kick about in their
sleep And who knows if they're
decent people at all? Likely enough
they're two hedge birds, that have i'm
posed a pitiful tale on the good fathers
and never slept under anything finer
than a shock of straw in their lives"


The more the good woman thought
of this, the more she felt sure it was
the case, and the less willing she be-
came to lend her blanket to couple
of cheating tramps." A sudden idea
decided her. ''Ten to one they bring
a fever with them!" she cried 'sand
dear knows | saw enough good bed
ding burnt after the black fever, ten
years ago 1t would he a sin and a
shame to burn a good blanket like
this !" And repeating, "a sin and a
shame with great force, the widow
restored the blanket to its place.


"The coverlet's not worth much,"
she thought; " but my good man
bought it the year after we married,
and if anything happened to it Ishould
never forgive myself. The old shawl