en some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still She lives.

_Thomas Moore._

[Illustration: TOM MOORE]

* * * * *

_23_

ma'am
dis suade'
re spect'a ble
shuf' fled
dan' ger ous
grate' ful
wist' ful ly
mit' tens
outstretched'
res' cue
un daunt' ed
an' ti qua ted

A LITTLE LADY.[001]

Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.

Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
forgotten them.

Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
that I might offer my help.

At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
coasting, unless we hurry."

"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.

"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
had not the courage to try it.

"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
the dangerous sheet of ice before her.

"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.

"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.

"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
might fall," said the child, offering her arm.

"Yes, dear, so I will. Now