we brought to
bear on him!"

But the secretary knew, and the old governor, too--God bless him for
his human heart! _They_ knew that it was the sacred influence of a
little child's letter that had done it all--that a dimpled baby hand
had opened those prison doors.

THE SINGER MOTHER

Once, as Death walked the earth in search of some fair flower upon
which he could breathe his icy breath, he met the graceful and pleasing
spirit who is called Ambition.

"Good morrow," quoth Death, "let us journey a time together. Both of
us are hale fellows; let us henceforth be travelling companions."

Now Ambition is one of the most easily cajoled persons in the world.
The soft words of Death flattered him. So Death and Ambition set out
together, hand in hand.

And having come into a great city, they were walking in a fine street
when they beheld at the window of a certain house a lady who was named
Griselda. She was sitting at the window, fondling in her lap her
child, a beautiful little infant that held out his dimpled arms to the
mother and prattled sweet little things which only a mother can
understand.

"What a beautiful lady," said Ambition, "and what a wonderful song she
is singing to the child."

"You may praise the mother as you will," said Death, "but it is the
child which engages my attention and absorbs my admiration. How I wish
the child were mine!"

But Ambition continued to regard Griselda with an eye of covetousness;
the song Griselda sang to her babe seemed to have exerted a wondrous
spell over the spirit.

"I know a way," suggested Death, "by which we can possess ourselves of
these two--you of the mother and I of the child."

Ambition's eyes sparkled. He longed for the beautiful mother.

"Tell me how I may win her," said he to Death, "and you shall have the
babe."

So Death and Ambition walked in the street and talked of Griselda and
her child.

Griselda was a famous singer. She sang in the theatre of the great
city, and people came from all parts of the world to hear her songs and
join in her praise. Such a voice had never before been heard, and
Griselda's fame was equalled only by the riches which her art had
brought her. In the height of her career the little babe came to make
her life all the sweeter, and Griselda was indeed very happy.

"Who is that at the door?" inquired Charlotte, the old nurse. "It must
be somebody of consequence, for he knocks with a certain confidence
on