she worked bravely, but the poor three dollars a week
would not clothe and feed and warm her, though the things her busy
fingers made sold for enough to keep her comfortably if she had
received it. I saw the pretty color fade from her cheeks; her eyes
grew hollow, her voice lost its cheery ring, her step its elasticity,
and her face began to wear the haggard, anxious look that made its
youth doubly pathetic. Her poor little gowns grew shabby, her shawl so
thin she shivered when the pitiless wind smote her, and her feet were
almost bare. Rain and snow beat on the patient little figure going
to and fro, each morning with hope and courage faintly shining, each
evening with the shadow of despair gathering darker round her. It was
a hard time for all, desperately hard for her, and in her poverty, sin
and pleasure tempted her. She resisted, but as another bitter winter
came she feared that in her misery she might yield, for body and soul
were weakened now by the long struggle. She knew not where to turn
for help; there seemed to be no place for her at any safe and happy
fireside; life's hard aspect daunted her, and she turned to death,
saying confidingly, 'Take me while I'm innocent and not afraid to go.'

"I saw it all! I saw how she sold everything that would bring money
and paid her little debts to the utmost penny; how she set her poor
room in order for the last time; how she tenderly bade the doves
good-by, and lay down on her bed to die. At nine o'clock last night as
my bell rang over the city, I tried to tell what was going on in the
garret where the light was dying out so fast. I cried to them with all
my strength.--

"'Kind souls, below there! a fellow-creature is perishing for lack
of charity! Oh, help her before it is too late! Mothers, with little
daughters on your knees, stretch out your hands and take her in! Happy
women, in the safe shelter of home, think of her desolation! Rich men,
who grind the faces of the poor, remember that this soul will one day
be required of you! Dear Lord, let not this little sparrow fall to
the ground! Help, Christian men and women, in the name of Him whose
birthday blessed the world!'

"Ah me! I rang, and clashed, and cried in vain. The passers-by only
said, as they hurried home, laden with Christmas cheer: 'The old bell
is merry to-night, as it should be at this blithe season, bless it!'

"As the clocks struck ten, the poor child lay down, saying, as she
drank the last bitter d