the throne of heaven.

The same holy spirit must have touched the living and the dead, for
when the little girl lifted her face, the pale, pinched features were
radiant as those of an angel. She had gone close to the gate of heaven
with her father, soul and body. She was bathed in the holy light that
had gushed through the portals.




CHAPTER II.

THE MAYOR AND THE POLICEMAN.


When the strong man turns, with a haughty lip,
On poverty, stern and grim,
When he seizes the fiend with a ruthless grip,
Ye need not fear for him.
But when poverty comes to a little child,
Freezing its bloom away--
When its cheeks are thin and its eyes are wild,
Give pity its gentle sway.

It was a bitter cold night--a myriad of stars hung in the sky, clear
and glittering, as if burnished by the frost. The moon sent down a
pale, freezing brilliancy that whitened all the ground, as if a
sprinkling of snow had fallen, but there was not a flake on the earth
or in the air. Little wind was abroad, but that little pierced through