ls "my wife."

ARCHIBALD MACKIE,

THE LITTLE CRIPPLE.

ARCHIBALD MACKIE.

CHAPTER I.

"Oh! oh! mamma, dear, isn't it a pity he isn't a rich, boy like Cousin
Willie? then he could have a carriage to take him about in, and nice
clothes to cover up the hump on his back, and a pretty cane with a
silver band every little way, and the people wouldn't push him about so,
and call him 'ugly rascal,' as that great man did just now."

Kittie Fay's mother had noticed the sad object that was slowly moving up
the street before her, trying in vain to keep his clumsy crutch out of
the way of the passers-by, and she had heard the rude and inhuman
ejaculation of the nobly-formed specimen, whose inner soul must, she
felt, be far more hideous than the stricken lad's outward being, since
it could so cruelly taunt one on whom the hand of God had been placed in
wisdom.

"Perhaps not 'a pity,' Kittie, darling," replied she, as she quickened
her steps in order to overtake the boy. "We will try to find out whether
it is or not, and you shall some day answer the question for yourself;"
and she laid her hand gently upon the head of the poor little cripple,
who had halted that he might get breath to proceed to his home. She was
almost startled at the sweet yet sad face that was upturned to her gaze.
There seemed such a depth of feeling in the blue eye, and such a calm
and hallowed expression upon the pale features, that she hesitated for a
moment, as if studying how to address herself to the lad. He was not
like a common pauper, although the scanty rags scarcely covered his
unsightly figure, and the old hat served only to keep the scorching sun
from the very top of his head. He had not asked for money, and he shrunk
away from the touch of the lady as if there were degradation in it, and
leaned upon his crutch, with the sweet yet reproachful look still fixed
upon her.

Perhaps it was a consciousness of the blessed sympathy that welled up
from her motherly heart that relaxed his features into a half smile, and
moved him to a half glad, half sad emotion; perhaps the memory of as
dear a face that once beamed upon him with the same holy tenderness,
stirred the long-time quiet depths within his young bosom, and sent
forth the tear that lay upon his thin cheek! At any rate, the shyness
and misery had vanished, and he stood intently gazing into the face of
the lady until he seemed to have forgotten his misfortunes in the
happ