or food, in her wet clothes, has worked till the dawn of day for the
poor little ones dependent on her. He has seen _the blood_ come from her
mouth and nose after some of these efforts. Still more bitter than all
this, was the sense of desertion by her husband. But it was all in vain.
The children for whom she had slaved, and whom she loved more than her
own life, were attacked with scarlet fever, and two of them died in the
mother's arms. One only, a sweet little girl, was left. With them went
the spring of hope and courage which had sustained the hard-working
mother. Her father says she never shed a tear, but she lost heart; and,
though never doubting of the goodness of her Great Father, she had not
the spirit for the remaining work of life. Her exposures and hard labor
had brought on a cough, and finally a disease of the lungs. She was at
last unable to work, and could only lie upon her bed and depend on the
chance charities of strangers.

"The teacher of our Fortieth-street School, who, in a way unseen and
unknown to the world, is a minister of mercy and goodness to all that
quarter of the city, first discovered her, and has managed, with a
little aid here and there, to lighten her dying hours.

"I was called in the other day and held a long conversation with her.
She has no more fears or anxieties; she is not even troubled about her
little one. God will care for her. 'Once,' she said, 'I felt it so hard
to lose the children, but now I am glad they are gone! They will be much
better where they are than here. I have put everything away now,' she
added, with an expression of sublime faith and hope on a face whose worn
features the hectic flush made almost beautiful again. 'I trust all to
my Redeemer. Through him alone I hope. He will forgive me and receive
me.' She spoke of her many trials and sorrows--they were all over, and
she was glad she was soon to be at rest.

"We asked about her food. She said she could not relish many things, and
she often thought if she could only get some of the good old plain
things she had in Ireland at her brother's farm she should feel so much
better.

"I told her we would get her some good genuine oat-meal cake from an
Irish friend. Her face lighted up at once, and she seemed cheered by the
promise.

"'Oh, sir! I have thought so much of my mother in this sickness, and
those happy, happy days. I was such a happy girl! How little she thought
I would come to this! We lived in the No