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PETERSON’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXXII.

THE LITTLE MILK-MAID.

BY ANNIE ARNOLD.

Mrs. Austin was, with her son, taking her afternoon drive. The day was very cold. Bnt wrapped closely in furs, the occupants of the luxurious carriage felt not the chilling blast, and cared not for the light cover of snow upon the ground. They were returning from the city, after making purchases, to their own home. It was growing dark, but before them was the pros pect of the large dining-room awaiting them, supper spread, and a fire ready to comfort them for the long ride.

"Mamma!" said Harry, suddenly, "I hoard somebody calling. Stop, John," and he gave the check-string a violent pull, "listen."

Above the noise of the wind came the cry, "Help, for the love of heaven."

Mrs. Austin and Harry left the carriage and followed the voice. They had not gone far before they found the speaker. It was a woman, young nnd pretty, but meanly dressed, who, now sense less, lay stretched out on the road. By her side stood a little girl, some two or three years of age, sobbing and wringing her baby hands, cry ing, "Mamma, open your eyes, mamma."

There was no time for hesitation. John, by his mistress' directions, placed the woman in the carriage, the others followed, and they were driven rapidly home.

Reader, would you like a description of our characters? We will step into the chamber of Mrs. Austin's house, where the woman was car ried, and there we find :

First, Mrs. Austin, a wealthy widow of about thirty. Married at sixteen, she was at nineteen left a widow with a large fortune and a son two years old, the same lad who is now beside her. Still young, she is very handsome. Her figure is tall and stately, her eyes large and dark, her black hair glossy and abundant, and her features delicately cut and regular. She is bending over the stranger found on the road, and trying to restore animation. Harry, now eleven years old, strongly resembles his mother. Kneeling now beside her he is trying to comfort the child, who still weeps bitterly. The little one is beautiful. Her rich, dark curls cluster in pretty rings round a small, well-shaped head, her eyes are large and of a dark, hazel-color, her complexion is slightly tanned by the sun, but the round, white shoul ders show how fair it naturally is. She is dressed in a print frock, has coarse, clumsy shoes, and no stockings; and for a mantle this cold day in early winter, has only a coarse apron of her mother's, while a cape-bonnet covers the pretty curls. Mrs. Austin tried in vain to recall the poor woman to life. The doctor was sent for, and pronounced the cause of her death to be disease of the heart, added to exposure to the cold and extreme fatigue. Her feet, blistered by walking, showed the distance she had travelled. Mrs. Austin paid the expenses of a decent1 funeral, and then turned her attention to the child. Neatly and warmly clothed by her care, the little stranger, who gave her name as "Kate," was a pretty picture, and in the two days before the funeral so won Sirs. Austin's kind heart that she concluded to adopt her, much to Barry's de light. As time passed on, little Kate won her way so completely to her benefactress' heart, that she seemed to divide it equally with Harry. Aunt Lizzie, Mrs. Austin allowed her to call her: and the three were united as if of one blood. As Kate became old enough, annt Lizzie herself undertook her education, and wns well repaid for her trouble by the quickness and intelligence of her little pupil. "When Kate was bnt ten years old, Mrs. Aus tin's health became very feeble, and being advised by the physicians to travel, she con cluded to spend a vear or two in Europe. Her 161