CHAPTER III.




Daylight breaks, and the dwellers upon a thousand hills rejoice in
the first rays of the morning sun.

"Didst thou ever hear that promise, 'God will provide'? inquired a
pale, yet beautiful girl, as she bent over the form of a feverish
woman, in a small, yet neatly-furnished room.

"Yes," was the reply; "and he who allows not a sparrow to fall
unnoticed, shall he not much more care for us? Yes, Julia, God will
provide. My soul, trust thou in God!"

It was Mrs. Lang. The good lady who had befriended her was suddenly
taken ill, and as suddenly died. Mrs. Lang, with her daughter, left
the house, and, hiring a small room at an exorbitant rent,
endeavored, by the use of her needle, to live. She labored hard; the
morning's first light found her at her task, and midnight's silent
hour often found her there. The daughter too was there; together
they labored, and together shared the joys and sorrows of a worse
than widowed and orphaned state. Naturally of a feeble constitution,
Mrs. Lang could not long bear up under that labor, and fell. Then
that daughter was as a ministering angel, attending and watching
over her, and anticipating her every want. Long was she obliged to
labor to provide the necessaries of life; often working hard, and