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The Cry of the Maiden Shareholders.
The Edenburgh Scotsman publishes the fol
lowing "Cry of the Maiden Shareholders" in
the broken Glascow bank:
Pity us, God! There are five of us here,
With threescore years on the youngesthead
Five of us sitting: in sorrow and fear
Well for our widowed one she is dead
Day and night sitting, we've not hud ahead
Down on a pillow this week now and more
Trembling has seized on us, shrinking and
To hear Ihe bell rinsr, or be seen out of door.
Pit.v lis, pity, OGod!
Pity us, God! When our father died
His mind was at ease, for he left us shares
And a roof o'er our heads, too and side by
Happy and loving, wo faced life's cares.
Then we were young, and now feeble and old,
But we never" wrong.d any, as far as we
Aud we tried to do right with our silver and.
And the poor had their portion, the church
had its due.
Pity us, pity, 0 God!
Pity us, God! We would work if we could,
But suppler fingers must stitch aud hem
And who would sive us our morsel of food,
Though we spun and knitted all day for
We never knew work, but to keep ourselves
And never knew want, but our wants are
And there's bread in the house yet, if we could
But the sickness of sorrow is mixed with it
Pity us, pity, OGod!
Pity us, God! Must our little things go
AHeven our mother's things cherished
Must we leave the old homethe one home
that we know?
But not for the poor-house0 surely not
Could they not wait awhile? We will not
keep them long
We could live on so little, too, cheerful and
But to leave the old house, where old memor
For the poor-house! O rather the peace of
Pity us, pity, O God!
Pity us, God! As for them who have wrought
All this sad ruin so wide and deep,
O how could they do it, and know it not?
How could they know it, and think or sleep?
But we would not, one of us, change this day
Our lot for theirs, for our hands are clean
And the bankrupt soul has a darker way
Then the way of the honest poor ever hath
Pity us, pity, 0 God.
TIBBY AND TOSEY.
Jvitty had been to the charity ball, and
the charity ball was very fashionable
there was no doubt about that. Kitty
had eaten a late supper, returned borne,
gone to bed and to sleep there was no
doubt of that. She recollected distinctly
throwing one shoe under the bed and
the other into a corner, saying "Good
night" to her own figure in the looking
glass, twisting the figure of a butterfly
till her fingers uehed before she discov
ered that it was not the gas-stopper, and
the'u laughing sleepily at all ber mis
takes. She even remembered the fhst
dream of her sleep, which was something
about c.arity diamonds, chicken-salad,
lancers, and ice-cream waltzes.
No there was no doubt that she had
gone through all this yet there she was,
staring in at the windows of the great
ball-room, and the ball was just com
mencing. Cou'd she have gone to sleep
on the window sill in some mysterious
manner. No she was outside, and
standing in the
holding on to bei'frjU 1!
"Oh, dear," thou Kitty,"mournfully,
"I must have dra me wine somehow
How strange it I wonder how I
came here! But uat a cold hand holds
mine: it's not papa's, for it makes me
shiver, fie must be horrid. I won't
look at him. So!"
There did not seem to be much need of
the resolve, however, for the perscn who
held her hand .lid not moye nor seem
to care whether she saw him or not, but
quietly looked in with her. So, at last,
like most girls, Kitty's curiosity got the
better of her, and she cautiously glanced
out of the corners of her eyes.
Beside her she saw an old man. His
beard and hair were long and white, and
dropped about his neck and shoulders,
like falling snow. Upon his head was
lightly placed a crown, as of frost-work,
so delicate was its texture. Robes, long
and dark, and cold to look at, fell in
broad folds from his shoulders, and were
held to his waist by a girdle of twink
ling stars. He was gazing in at the bril
liant assemblage with a sad, melancholy
lcok upon his iace.
Kitty looked at his robes.
"How very old-fashioned!'' she
thought "and aged, very aged."
Yes." murmured the" old niari "old,
Kitty started. He read her thoughts,
evidently. She was sorry now she had
thought it, he looked so sad.
"Who are you?" asked Kitty timidly:
u8ud why have you brought me here?"
"1 am the Cold Night," said the old
man, slowly turning his eyes toward her.
His eyes were sharp and piercing, yet
full of kindness. "And I have brought
you here that you might see how great
your charity is, for I heard this was a
''Yes," s-tid Kitty nervously.
"I am a friend of the poor," continued
the Cold Night "and I love to see char-
ity," Ke looked oack into the ball-room
as he spoke. "You see all your friends
"Yes," said Kitty, brightening up, and
gazing inside with something of a proud
look. 'There's Florry Hall right before
the window now. She has those beauti
ful solitarie diamonds in her ears. Oh,
dear, how bright they look. I wish I had
"But you had the handsomest dress,"
said the Cold Nigh, sadlv
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Kitty, quickly.
It was of the richest silk, and cost sever
al hundred dollars. Papa was so kind."
"And was it bought for charitv?" asked
the Cold Night.
"Why no," answered KitJpf in surprise.
"For me, of course."
"But the ball is for charity?"
Kitty began to be bewildered by so
much catechising and she was much
relieved when he led her away.
They descended to the grand entrance,
where he pointed out two little beggars,
a boy and a girl, who fiddled and sang,
and asked a penny of the rich people de
scending from the carriages.
"You passed them by Jo-night?"
"Yes," said Kitty, "but they are horrid
beggars." The Cold Night was silent,
and Kitty was afraid she might have said
something wrong, so she added: "And
common street fiddlers."
But the Cold Night said nothing.
They both watched the little duo,
Tosey and Tibby, the Cold Night said,
and drew nearer to hear what they would
say. People, rich with money and great
in charity, carefully passed them by, for
they were sagged baggars, and fiddled
and sang. It was cold, very cold and
Tosey played very, very slowly, while the
breath of Tibby's quivering plaint disap
peared despairingly in the frosty air. The
wheels of carriages seemed to creak in
sympathy, as they crushed down in the
snow. Yes, it was cold indeed, yet they
fiddled and sang untiringly, while the
rich ]*eople alighted and passed up the
grand entrance, after glancing contempt
uously at the poor little duo, who fiddled
and sang as the brillant dresses disap
peared in the distant doorway but finally
stopped as the last carriage drove away.
"I suppose we looks too awful," said
Tosey, wettiugly his lips and feeling
vacantly in the small pocket, which God
knows, had not seen so much as a dime
for many and rnauv a day.
'Yes, said Tibby, "but I does feel so
hungry, and I sang so loud, and I tried
so hird and"
Tibby slightly sohbed and silently
used a small piece of her shawl to wipe
away a large tear.
"Don't cry," said Tosey, tremulously:
"let's move OP, and perhaps we'll find a
little somethin'. Oh, if we only had a
Tosey took Tibby's hand and they start
ed to move away."
"Oh, Mr. Cold Night," exclaimed Kit
ty sorrowfully, "let me give them some
thingpoor little things!"
"But they are beggars," answered the
Kitty iooked ashamed. She could feel
herself blush, even though she was cold
and shiverinff. The cold Night handed
her a silver piece.
"Yes," said he drop it, even if it's
wasted. See what they will do."
Kitty took it quickly and dropped it
before them. Right at Tibby's foot fell
the money, which she would have passed
unnoticed if Tosey had. not exclaimed
"Oh, Tibby, there's a dime!" and pick
Tibby clasped her hands in deliarht,
danced up and down and then looked in
to his hand, to be sure that it was really
there. It was surely.
"Won't wejhave a hot potato, tnough!"
"And a big roll, and some butter, and
some meat, and just a very little piece of
Tibby named each of them on the ends
of her fingers, but stopped when she got
to her thumb, for the money was all gone
by that time, aud the thumb was quite
"But how did it come there?" asked
"Could it have growed?" suggested
"No," said Tosev.
"Fell from the sky?"
"Guessnot," sa^d Tosey, dubiously.
"Or been flunged?"
"Oh, no, of course not!" Tosey an
They both iooked hungrilv at the piece
of money, and began to count together
what lots of things they could buy and
their faces grew blight, indeed, as they
thought of it.
From the shades of "Jfce cppor(?i:4 Side
of the entrance, a thin bundle of rags
slowly crept, and steadily shuffled up to
them. Out of the dirt and rags peered a
thin face and glistening eyes, and the
hands of the small bundle wearily ru.b
ned themselves together, to try and stir
up the blood that was not there.
"This is a charity ball," said the thin
bundle. "Theae folks dances for the poor."
The glistening eyes looked eagerly at
Tosey and Tibby, and frequently glanced
at the money in their hands. "We is
poor, and they dances for us and me
mother, who is sick abed, they dances to
give us the bread which we seldom has."
"Tosey looked in surprise at the thin
bundle rubbing its hands.
"And does they dress in nice closes for
us, and ride in carriages, and give lots of
money, and all for us?"
The thin bundle rubbed faster and
"Yes, if there's any more than as pays
for the dancin' and the dressin' and the
dancin' costs ten dollars apiece, and the
dressin' I dunno! It's all for us,if there's
"But they didn't give us any when I
sang," saia Tibby.
"Lors, no!" said the thin bundle ":hev
has folks as hunts up poor folks when
they has time, and sews flannels when
they hasn't. Yes, they savs they does
all this for us, but" The bundle shook
its head as it it were doubtful, and con
"I stood over yonder thinkin' some
body w-uld give me somithim' but they
all looked mad at me, and went back
into the shadder and watched 'em. It
was a big sight, but I'm jest as hungry."
The hands stopped rubbing, and the eyes
looked wet, as the bundle added "My
mother is very, very sick. Oh, we's poor,
Tosey looked at his little sister as the
rags began to shuffle away.
"Tibby," says he, "does we feel so aw
Tibby hesitated. She looked at the sil
ver,and then at theslowly retreating figure
and then she looked up into Tosey's
gentle, loving iace.
"No, To9ey, I dunno as I does."
Tosey turned around, and running
after the departing figure, handed her
the piece of money.
"There," says he, "take it you need it
more than we does."
The bundle looked in surprise as she
took the piece, and tears fell down the
thin, pale face. But she only said:
"I'm very, verv grateful," "and walked
The two little musicians watched the
figure as it disappeared in the darkness,
while the happy shuffle grew fainter and
Ah, here was charity, Godlike charity,
in the hearts of the beings the rich de
spised and thrust from their doer!
As the Cold Night turned toward
Kitty he found her silently wiping her
"Do you see what true charity is!'
asked he, in a sweet, sympathetic voice.
"Yes, yes," murmured Kitty "I see, I
While they were talking, they had
slowly risen up, to the brilliant windows
"Now look at the mocKer
ball. Light from myriads of jefto,
Planets in November.
Some scientific journals have been giv
ing lately the motions of the planets each
month, and now the Oil City Derrick
starts into the busines with the folio wing
During the month Jupiter remains an
evening star. He made application some
time ago to be appointed on the morning
force, where the pay is better, but owing
to the hard times it was deemed best to
make no changes. He reaches the meri
dian about 7 o'clock and goes off watch
at precisely 12 o'clock midnight.
Mercury's engagement as a morning
star terminates on the 24th, when, it is
presumed,he will go into winter quarters,
possibly renting himself out for a ther
Venus is chiefest among the morning
stars, and altogether lovely. She rises
about half-past 4, takes a bath, walks
out for half an hour, and breakfasts on
ham^nd eggs. As cold weather ap
proaches she will not rise so early, and
towards the end of the month will not be
visible until nearly 6 o'clock. Venus is in
good condition, a trifle thin in flesh, per
haps, but with no accident it is thought
she will reduce her last year's record.
She is now traveling towards the sun at
the rate of several millions miles a min
Uranus^poBitive^pefuses to be seen in
October except on special business. Of
fice hours from 8 a. m. to 4 a. m. Pull
the night bell.
Neptune is 2,7()0,000,000 miles from
the sun, but will probably be compellea
to move up closer on account of he high
price of coal. He is running a fishing
smack, and occasionally makes a tem
perance speech, advocating salt water as
Mars is number among the morning
stars, and gets down town about half-past
5, breakfast two hours later. He wears
his hair cut close to the scalp, carries a
brace of pistols and several ugly knives,
and is in favor of declaring war ag&inst
Mexico. The slightest reference to
Hayes' peace policy with tiff Indians
throws him into a paroxysm of rage. He
is now drawing a pension oi $7 a month
from the Government.
Saturn during the month will be the
most interesting of all the planets. He
is on duty all night and will be until af
ter the November electiond. He rises
about 5 in the afternoon, takes a sun
bath, exercises on the horizontal bar,
wrestles with a health-lift, and reads the
paper*. After a light breakfast he car-
Cold Night, somewhat harshly.'
It was the most brilliant hour
decked with jewels and silks and laces
were gathered in merry groups, or joining
in pleasurable dance to the strains of
sweet and lively music. It was a beauti
ful sight indeed but somehow the people
looked heartless to Kitty, and the jewels
glittered spitefully, while the rich silks
seemed to hiss and hiss as they rustled
along, as if all were rebelling against
their false use.
"But one more act," said the Cold Night,
gently leading her down, down to the
opposite side of the street.
From a dark corner, with their arms
twined about each other's necks, the two
little beggars watched the windows of the
brilliantly lighted hallaway up in the
sky it seemed-- watched the gay figures
that frequently appeared in rich, dainty
dresses, and smiled to think it was all
for the poor and needy.
"They dances for lis and for others,"
murmured Tibby, "for those as is in want.
Maybe the beautiful ladies will find us
here to morrow, and give us some bread."
"Yes," said Tosey,- "aud the poor little
girl as has the sick mother. P'haps
they'll find them, and help them, too."
The Cold Night waved his hand above
them, and they both shivered, and said
how cold it was. Tosey tried to play a
note on his violin, but the strings creaked
so dismally that he laid it aside. Then
they sang together the sweet little song
of charity which Tibby had sung to the
rich people and, as they sang, the Cold
Night spread his mantle slowly around
them until they were fast asleep."
"Oh, sir!" cried Kitty, "spare them,
and let them live."
"No," said Cold Night, "they are too
poor to live. They must die."
Kitty fell on her knees before him.
"Oh, sir!" she pleaded beseechingly,
"I am rich and will take care of them,
and relieve them from suffering.
But the Cold Night raised his hand
and pointed upward, saying
"Too late, too late!"
As he spoke he took the beggars in his
aims and slowly rose up toward the stars,
leaving Kitty sobbing on the ground. As
she knelt there she heard, high in the
skies, the song that the beggars sang, the
song of sweet charity, swelling to a
mighty chorus, as one would think to
celebiate a mighty deedmighty in the
sight of heaven. She tried to raise her
head but could not, she seemed bound to
the earth by a great weight, as of gold,
while above the song grew fainter and
lamter, till at last it ceased, then she fell
into a deep swoon.
It was broad daylight when Kitty
awoke, and the sun was shining brightly
into her window. In the hall the maid
was humming a subdued song as she
went blithely about her work while with
out the white smoke of mcrning fires
signs of stirring lifecuried upwards
from the chimney-tops into the cool air
as if glad to meet the light of day.
"It was only a dream yet, oh, how
vivid?" thought Kitty, as she rubbed her
eyes again and again, surprised to see the
walls of her own pretty room actually
"Only a dream, only a dream yet, how
full of truth!" cheerily rang the niiiV
man's bell as Kitty donned her morning
dress while, as she passed down the
broad staircase the great hall clock seem
ed to say:
"Only a dream, only a dream yet
there's a lesson, yet there's a lesson and
A year from that time Kitty passed by
the same old clock but this time it said,
as it ticked, ticked away:
"Only a dream yet it's made her an
angelangel of mercy to suffering need.
Her name, so dear to u?, is a name
love among the poor. Ah, happy, happy
was the day when, to her eyes, "a dream
revealed true charity.
bedded in massive chandeliers, spark.
with dazzling intensity, making tK
brightest day of gloomy night.
ries in the coal, drives up the cows, and
cracks the kindling for next morning.
Feopftt+ Won roaring up the chimney wide
I fcjte huge hall.tablo's oaken face,
gerk'inbedn till it
the to grace,
its massive board
he the and lord
Then tlwr gruff boar's head frowned on high
Crested, with ba.Fs and rosemary.% ,.Q\,
Thn wastfaft round in g*ood brown bowls,
GarniBhed with rohbins, biiihely throwls,
There the-hu#e- sirloin reeks hard bv
Plum-porridge stood, and Christinas-pie.
LOST MI) POUND,
A Chrfstiwiaa Story.
rE WANDEUfflW WOMAN.
Would it never cease we asked, as we sat
looking out frcn
the big, feathery
there in wild swir
"thick as the motes that people the sun
beams," the snow came down, obscuring the
air, obliterating the ways, blurring: the sharp
outline of the trees, and muffling' all the
sounds of out-door life. For nearly a week
there had been sharp frost. The ice had-rung
with the healthy music of the skates. And
then, without the frost breaking up, the snow
had begun to fall on Sundav night it had
snowed all day on Monday, ali Monday night
and now, after breakfast on Tuesday morn
ing, it was snowing as hard as ever. '"Would
never cease?" we asked.
It was but eleven o'clock, and the train
was not due at Thornlev till three. It was
calculated that if the road was uassable at
all, an hour would surely be enough for the
three miles' drive. So till two o'clock there
was no event to fill up the time save lunch
at least there was no event that we knew of.
By-and by, old Margaret came in and said
there was a poor woman in the kitchen whom
she thought the dog 'Fury" had frightened
out of her wits, because she could not speak
a word that sheMargaretcould under
stand. Some two or three of us went to see
our strange visitor.
We soon found that she was no more mad
than we were, only well night in despair, and
exhausted. She could not. speak one word
Of English, and we found our little stoc-k of
rench, so neglected as it was, very inade
quate for conversng with her in her own
tongue. It was enough for her, however, that
at last she had actually found some one who
had heard of France, and who knew there
was such a language as the French.
The poor woman's tale was this: Her hus
band was dead. Her two little girls were just
old enough to work at the straw-plaiting, but
not old enough to walk all day with her in
this terrible weather. Her money had been
just enough to pay their fare from Birming
ham to Dunstable, and she had sent them off
by rail that morning. At Dui.stable they
would find a good Frenchwoman who would
take care of them. But she herself had not
money enough to ride, so had set out to walk
from Birmingham to Dunstable, a distance of
some hundred miles, for which walk she had
allowed herself three days. And now this
morning, to begin with, she found she had got
four miles out of her way. She could find no
one to put her right, the snow was preventing
her from walking at half the pace she had
hoped to walk, and she could not in any way
gPtto her work at the time she had promised
to be there. She was a strong, coarse-featur
ed woman evidently very poor, and not at all
sentimental. But she did not beg, either di
trdctly or indirectly. She was evidently care
ul to avoid it. She warmed herself by the
fire, but when pressed also to sit down and eat
to direct her on her way as well as we could
which we did.
Before she went she took out he.- little well
worn purse and counted her small capital.
She asked us what we thought might be the
railway fare from Banbury to Leighton, and
we told her as near as we could guess. Then
she shut her purse and shook her head in a
way that said she must walk it all. But being
pressed to take some little help to make up
the fare for this part of the journey, she took
itnot without reluctance. Only once her
courage seemed to fail her. When my sister's
little boy, a rosy little fellow, eighteen months
old, suddenly began crying to go to her, she
took him into her arms, kissed him, and cried
over him, thinking, no doubt, of her own lit
tie ones and their loneliness at this happy
If Kitty had not been the verv best little
mare that ever drew a wagon behind her, she
never would have got to Thornley station. It
had given up snowing and the sun was shin
ing a little. So, as we thought then, would
be room enough, coming back, I was tempted
to brave the weather and go down with Sam
to meet the train.
For thirty years there had been no such
snow-storm kno vn in this part of the country.
As we drove alongif I should no" rather call
it plowingthe corn iicks showed like so
many tumuli. Even the highest hedgerows
could only be traced as long, sharp ridges,
for the snow had drifted against them till all
was buried save here and there a tree. There
was a nflre of common land, newly enclosed,
which we had to cross, and here where all
was level, and the fences were low, it was
simply one great stretch of white, where to
keep the road was no easy matter.
Thanks mainly to the necessity of running
extra trains at Christmas time, our branch
line had with great difficulty been kept open.
The trains were running, and the train for
which we had to wait was not more than a
quarter oi an hour late.
Long before we saw them we could hear
our young folks. They were chaffing the sta
tion-master,advising him to "Go toJericho," to
"jump up," and to do other things which cer
tainly form no part of a station-master's ordi
Driving home was hardly any easier a task
than driving out had been. For though
we certainly had our own track to drive back
upon there was the added weight of five new
passengers, which even to Kitty was no joke
on such a day as this. The boys, however,
declared it splendid, and the more likelihood
there was of our sticking fast, the mor* splen
did they declared it, the more glad they
were tQ jump out behind, and,under pretence
of pushing the wagon, roll each other in the
snow, and put snowballs down each other's
backs. On our way home we met two or
three other vehicles, and at all cross roads
could see that heavy as had been the snow, it
had not been heavy enough to keep people in
doors who had the excuses of hospitality for
Home at last, just aa the shades of night
were falling rapidly, and just as the firelight
began, to redden the window panes. Then
the bustle of hand-shaking, kissing, uncoat
ing, and finger-warming. Then the first gen
eral inquiries about school, and lessons, and
prizes, about skating and sliding, about home
and home friends. All these things were, over,
and the lads were sitting or standing round
the fire, while Helen and I were busy with
our deeorations, twisting wreaths of holly
round the pictures and mirrors, and pricking
oar fingers tiil thev bled in doing 6o. Sud
denly Frank called out to Helen: "But, aunt,
where's BertieI have not seen him?"
"Oh, he's asleep," said Helen you'll see
him and hear him too by-and-by." Then as
if reminded by this, she l-,ft her holly-wreaths
and ran upstairs to see if ah the recent noise
had not waked him. In a minute she was
down again, and said: "He's not in his cot
some of them have got him in the kitchen
run, Frank, and fetch him."
Soon Frmk was back again, and back
without the baby. Then the mother began
tomn about the house searching, and to grow
uneasy. One of the maids, however, had been
sent some-half hour ago to a neighbor's, and
was expected back directly. It was presumed,
though no one had seen her take him, tbat
aha had the baby with her. In a few minutes
she came inand knew nothing ofbaby Bertie.
Baby Bertie was eighteen months old. and
had just discontinued crawling and taken to
walking. His little feet wore forever patter
ing from room to room. His little hands were
foreverlay ng hold of friendly skirts and coat
tails. His little legs were forever carrying him
slowly up stairs and tumbling him down again
with much greater rapidity. Bertie, in short,
had just got to that age that when In he
was in everybody's way, andnwhen out of sight
he was a cause of constant terror leothe should
asleep thatmai he was considered safe, and tha
bim. And now hHec
and all of us thte slipl.e first, of course we
ing baby, being sure enough that he would be
found in some ridiculously safe corner It is
a large house with many" a spare room and
closet in which a child could hide, and it took
us some time to look through them all But
through them all we looked not once, nor
twice, but many times, without finding a trace
of him. Then through the barns, the cow
houses, the stables, the very pigsties and
every out-office of the place we went with
lanterns and candles, seeking Bertie and find
nig him not, calling Bertie and getting no
Then we set ourselves to seaich outside the
gates, holding our lanterns carefully to the
ground, and all at once in the deep clean snow
yards away from the house. There we found
the mark of where our little man had set him
self down to rest, and there, alas! Ave found
one of his little boots, with a sock in it and
from that point forward could trace the little
footprints still, the mark of the boot and the
mark of the wee naked toes now side by side
Some fifty yards or so, however, from where
we found the boot there were signs of hishav
ing wandered from the road into the deen
snow there were signs of trampling there bv
other feet, and there all trace was lost. Not
another footmark could we find beyond this
point, nor any footmark that indicated that he
had turned to go home again. It was clear
mat our little man had first wandered- outside
the gate, had been at once confused by ihe
snow, and lost his way had wandered on and
on, further away from home (we fancied how
the poor little thing cried, heartbroken), and
naa at last lain down overcome with cold, and
And all this while the poor mother was
with us But now at last by main force she
had to be taken home, andl with her, while
the search was continued without us.
At every neighboring house our people
called, hoping to gain some clue, but gaining
none. At every house, as soon as it was
known what the trouble was which sent these
white faces from neighbor Gordon's to break
in upon their happy Christmas eve, some
stout-hearted fellow was ready to rise and
join the searchers.
How wearisome was that search,, and how
eagerly conducted or how much more weari
some the terrible waiting at home, to me, to
Helen and to the aged men who had with
difficulty been kept at home, I need not tell.
trod forbid that I should ever again be wit
ness to such agonizing distress as that of mv
poor sister! She sat and swayed herself to and
fro, moaning low, and refused to be comfort
ed. Ihen she left us, and by-and-by I found
her kneeling at her bedsidebetter, I hoped
for the tears which had come, but little short
of crazed with grief.
And so the two weary hoursseeming a
whole nifht ratherwore away, and at last
we heard our friends at the gate again, talk
ing low, as if in consultation, and then we
heard quiet "good-nights," and heard Kitty
led slowly away, and heard the footsteps of
two or three coming into the kitchen, quietly
and not speaking to each other. And we
looked into eacn other's faces with dull, lead
en eyes, and no one rose to go out and ask the
It was like a house into which death has
entered with the unwonted silence and quiet
Ihe ycry dog shared in the gloom, and allowed
any one who liked to pass and repass without
no need to keep watch and guard any more
Then came in my husband and Edwin."
Their news was soon told. They had driven
along the soutli road for about an hour till
they had overtaken a poor woman whom they
Questioned as to whom had passed her. It
proved to be our poor Frenchwoman, and as
Edwin talks French fluently, they soon learnt
from her that no one had passed her who
could by any possibility know anything of the
child. The poor creature had to stay and rest
so often that she had made hardly any pro-g
resson her journey, and was already long
ing for any place where she could stay the
night. She soon gathered from Edwin that
the lost child was he whom she had fondled
in the morning, and then she forgot her own
care and eagerness to pursue her way, and
begged to be taken back to help in the search.
So they had brought her with them, and she
was wandering about alone with a lantern
not content till she had looked for herself into
all the places where we had all looked before
The sad summary of it all was that no one
of all who had been searching, had gained the
slightest trace of poor, lost Bertie.
NARROW ESCAPE OF MADAME GUILLOT.
lho-e the reader will never make one to
sit in so sad a circle as -that which gathered
about our fire when the search was staj-ed.
The big Christmas tree stood in its pride,
decked with all its fruit of toys and presents
and loving inscriptions. Tabhs groaned un
der the jolly Christmas cheer that waited for
You are not to suppose search
abandoned. We vrere
sittinthat only whilewas we
could decide what to do next. Not one of us
but felt it would be more endurable to wan
der searching, even against hope, amongst
the snow through all the livlong night, than
to sit there nursing our own sad thoughts.
We might lave sat in this-way perhaps
half an hourall of us together except Davie
and Frank, who were still out with the
Frenchwoman--when suddenly we were star
tled by a loudjgcreatn of fright, repeated two
or three timesJtbd each time checked, as it
seemed, by force, and accompanined by a
sharp, savage growl.
Rushing out to the door, whence the sound
came, wefouud poor Madame Guillofr(for this
was her name) on her. back, securely held
down by Fury, whom Davie and Frank were
trying to remove, without success. Fury's
heavy paw was flung aeross her throat, and it
was only when he raised it for an instant that
Madame was able to scream. When she did
scream, she was atonce checked by the
downcomingof theJKaw paw, accompan
led by a terrible g^W'l and an admonitory
shaking of her ample petticoats. Beyond her
fright and her shaking, the good woman was
none the worse, and of these ^he seemed to
think little, for the instant we had her on her
feet, she broke Irom us and rushed again into
the very jaws of Fury. The dog, however, was
too many for her, and instantly had her on
her back as before. But Helen had seen some
thing now. There it was badeed, the "little
shoe"the second red shoesgompanion to the
one found in the lane. It was lying just out
side Fury's kennel, and the light fell full up
on it from the lantern. in an in
stant Helen had in her hand, and found that
not only was it the missing shoe but that one
of the missing feet was inside itnay, that
one of the missing legs was attached to the
foot, and the whole of the rest of the missing
body attached to the leg! By the leg, Jn fact,
the missing Bertie was dragged out, covered
with straw, busily rubbing his eyes with his
little fists, and just waking up from a very
sound sleep in which he had been indulging
in Fury's apartment. Fury, seeing that he had
lost his ward, at once liberated Madam Guil
lot of his own accord, and pushing his big
nose in amongst us, began to assist Bertie to
wake, by vigorously licking his face, till Hel
en, snatching him up, rushed with him into
We, looking iato the kennel, saw where he
had made his little nest. It was in the corner
completely out of sight, and sheltered from
the wind. He had nestled into the clean
straw with which Fury is always well supplied,
and then it was pretty clear that Fury had lain
down heside him, if not upon him, acd had
cuddled him up as warmly as if he had been
in his mother's arms. We understood
now why the dog had refused to go out and
search with us, and why he had barked ao
little all through the night.
to us next day* ffi 23S&fH3!
er wae simple eriomjF andftfc
given atonce. A schoolboy had Shf'^
up and carried him home, had been afraid to
pass the dog, and so had set him down to run
in at the open kitchen door. Bertie instead of
doing so had turned in at Fury's door", which
happened to be nearest, ard had instantly
gone to sleep, while the school boy had posted
ofi to a village some few miles away.
It was in some respects almost as 'touchinc
to see the mother's joy a# it bad been to see
her sorrow. For was not Bertie her one child
and she a widow? and what more could I say
to tell you that both joy and sorrow were keen
esi that can thrill this mortal body. Let me
drop the veil.
Madam Guillot spent the Christmas day
with us, and on the following morning we
drove her down to Thornley station, and saw
her off with a through ticket in her pocket
Judge Hilton and the Jewa.
[New York Special to Chicago Tribune.]
Mrs. Stewart's gifts to the Jewish insti
tutions form the topic of sensational interest
to-day. In reference to the donations, Judge
Hilton's private secretary said to a Times re
porter that there was no occasion for a pub
lication about the matter. Neither Mrs.
Stewart nor Judge Hilton care to talk about
their eharities. "The whole matter," said
he, "is this: It has been the custom of Mra
Stewart and Judge Hilton, every year about
this time, to select a list of charitabfo insti
tutions and send them donations. These
donations have always been voluntai'y and
made in the qtfiete&t manner possible. These
yearly gifts have been independent of their
other charities. This winter Mrs. Stewart
made out a li.sfc of institutions, numbering
fifty, and requested Judge Hilton to send
each the specified amount. To Mrd. Stewart's
list Judge Hilton added thirty on his own ac
count, making eighty altogether. These in
cluded almost all denominations. Mount
Sinai hospital, the Hebrew Orphan asylum,
and the Hebrew Home for the Aged and In
firm were selected this year, not because they
were managed by Jews, but because they are
deserving institutions. Notices were sent to
all the institutions in about the same form.
The Hebrews take offense because their char
ities were offered the donations. They pick
flaws in ihe form of the offer, and make
ghosts out of the terms. They construe
well-meant gifts into insult, and act as if it
were a crime for a Christian to send charity
to a Jew at Christmas time. Isn't it wrong?
The other denominations found no fault.
The list was made out with so little of sec
tarian feeling that the donation was sent to
a Mohammedan charitable institution be
cause it is deserving. If the Hebrews don't
want the money, of course they can't be
compelled to take it. But the refusal might
have been as quietly made as the offer. I
decline to furnish you with the names of the
institutions on the list, or with the total
amount donated. If absolutely necessary to
know, you must learn elsewhere." Mrs.
Joseph Stiner, vice president of the Hebrew
Home for the Aged and Infirm, believed
Mrs. Stewart was sincerely charitable
in making the donations. The trouble was,
she said, with Judge Hilton. He took ad
vantage of his position to cast an insult at
the Hebrews. This he did by so wording
the notices as to make it necessary for the
treasurer of each institution to personally
call upon him to get the money. Of course,
the treasurers were all Hebrews, and Judge
Hilton would be highly gratified to have
these gentlemen go to him and receive
favors for their race at his hands. "Our
people," said Mrs. Stiner, "will not be un
der any obligations to him. We will not
take gifts from him. We will rather con
tribute the amounts among ourselves." Mrs,
Stiner thought that, if the donations were
bids for Jewish trade, they were very poor,
shabby and impolitic ones. The race could
not be bought so cheaply. To inquiries put
to the officers of the societies the general re
sponse was that the action of Mrs. Stewart,
taken through Judge Hilton, could not be
regarded otherwise than as lacking in con
tideration. The use of Judge Hilton as the
agent could not be regarded as delicate or
consistent. If the checks had been sent ac
cording to the usual custom, they would have
been applied and acknowledged.
Death of Marquise de Montholou.
News has been received of the death
of the Marquise de Montholon. This
lady was a native of Washington and
died in France. She was the daughter
of General Charles Gratiot, TJ. S. A., a
native of St. Louis. General Gratiot was
Chief of Engineers, occupying the place
now held by Gen. Humphreys. His wife,
a charming lady, was a. Miss Beelin, of
Philadelphia. General Gratiot had two
daughters. Victoria married the sou of
the distinguished nobleman who accom
panied Napoleon Bonaparte into exile and
remained with him at St. Helena until
the royal captive died. As executor he
came into possession of all of the private
papers of the unfortunate Emperor
About twenty-live years ago he published
these papers in connection with his his
tory of ^The Captivity of Bonaparte at
St. nelena." Julia Gratiot married one of
the Chouteaus, of St. Louis. General
Gratiot built the fortifications at Fortress
Monroe, and the Rip Rips. He and his
family occupied a high position in Wash
ington, and the daughters were great
belies. It was during the Tyler Aimin
istration, when Mr. Pontois"was French
Minister, that the young and handsome
Marquis de Montholon was First Secre
tary of Legation. The announcement
of his engagement to Miss Victoria Grat
iot created a stir in fashionable circle*.
The wedding was a brilliant affair, and is
still remembered by those who were
present. The Montholons were rt siding
in New York when our civil war broke
out. He was French consul there. The
Marquis was appointed French Minis
It is a little queer that some people
have the faculty of stirring the whole
world without feeling an emotion them
selves. There was Christire Nilsson, for
inslance ecstatic French critics went in
the wildest raptures over the "cold-eyed
miiden of the North," yet at the same
time hjbaoaned her luck of feeling. Noth
ing malfc her to the heart,unless it was the
neai approach of a rival singer. Some ot
the New York critics are now raving over
Modjeska. And*yet it seems to be"from
a long range. It"is all dress and action,
they cry out. Well, perhaps it is, and
perhaps it is not. Because Charlotte
Cushman, Mrs. Siddons and Sarah Bern
hardt and others of the emotional school
gave their hearts to the publictheir real
heartsit is no sign that those actresses
who do not parade their emotional ca
pacity upon the stage are not possessed ot
any. Those people who give expression
to all their feelings are apt to monopolize
the reputation of depth and capacity of
emotion, while the self-restrained pass for
cold and unsympathetic.