Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/48



WHAT ANNE DALAND DID. 49

it was with a new sense of weakness and sin that she knelt. to pray for forgiveness for the past, and strength for the future.

Anne's new enthusiasm for doing good sent her into the kitchen the very next morning. “Bridget,” said she, to that worthy domestic, who at that. moment was deep in the mysteries of one of her delicious puddings. “Don’t you wish you knew how to read and write as well as  cook?" Bridget dropped her egg-beater in astonishment at the question. “You’re not making fun of me now, are ye, Miss Anne? Shure I’d give the whole of New York, just to be able to write a bit of a letter home to Ireland now and then.” So the lessons began that very day. It was no easy task that she had undertaken, Anne soon found that out. Poor Bridget! her memory  was so short, and her mind as undisciplined as  the merest child’s, and she had such a propensity to learn everything by rote! Anne got discouraged sometimes, but she was determined to  persevere, and she did.

One dull, foggy, dismal day, Anne Daland stood at the window looking out at the dreary prospect. The streets were muddy, and the few people who were out looked uncomfortable, and in a hurry to get home.

“Isn't it doleful, mother?” said Anne.

“Why, yes, I suppose so, since you say it is! But I've been too busy all day to mind the weather much," and Mrs. Daland bent her sweet, motherly face over her sewing again.

“There now, mother! I hope that isn't intended for a hit at me, I have done ever so much today; ‘the little busy bec’ is not to be com pared to me, and yet I'm blue, decidedly blue. l'll tell you what it is, mother,” said she, after another pause, “I’m going out.” "What, in this muddy walking?" "It won’t hurt me any. I’m going on an ex- ploring expedition, to see if I can’t ﬁnd some body to cheer up. Cousin Mary would say that is the best way to drive off the blues.” Mrs. Daland thought Anne might be right, so gave her one or two commissions. One to go  and see a sick man, Mr. Malone, and the other  to take a book to Mary Brackett.

“Mary is one of the best old maids that ever was, which is saying a great deal, and she’s lonely, She can’t go out much, you know, on account of her rheumatism,” said Mrs. Daland.

In a few minutes Anne set out. The bustle of getting ready had already nearly dispelled the blues. She walked briskly along, holding up her shirts with one hand, just disclosing a glimpse of a white stocking, and very neat feet encased in a pair of little, thick walking-boots, that would have rejoiced the heart of an Englishman, as they went tapping on the side walk with their little heels. The warm, damp air  brought the color to her checks, and the very  sight of such a bright, fresh, pretty face was  enough to make one cheerful that dismal day. She met but few acquaintances, but they unconsciously brightened up as they returned her cordial smile and bow. Before she got to Mr. Malone’s, she found a little, poor-looking boy, who had lost his way, and was crying bitterly.

“Here‘s a chance to make somebody happy,” thought our young lady. She questioned him kindly, and found out where he lived, and restored him to his mother, who fortunately lived on the way to Mr. Malone's. The poor woman's  name was Mrs. Hoyt. She thanked Anne over  and over, and urged her to come in. So Anne went into the little room. Everything was neat, but showed that they were very poor indeed, Mrs. Hoyt, in talking with Anne, disclosed to  her almost all her trials.

Her husband had died, and loft her with four little children to take care of. She took in  washing for a living, but lately she could get  no work, and she had become entirely disheartened. Anne’s kind heart was touched when the poor woman put her apron up to her face and cried; she tried to comfort her as well as she could.

“I’m so sorry for you,” said she, “I don’t wonder you feel discouraged. I wish I could  do something for you. Send your little boy to our house in the morning, and I’ll give him a  basketful of things to carry home.”

Then she remembered that one of their neighbors wanted a washer-woman. She told Mrs. Hoyt so, and that she had no doubt but that she could get work there, and then the lady would recommend her to her friends. And so followed  by thanks, she went away, but she had no idea  how much good she had given.

The look of trouble left the widow’s face at  the thought of having employment; Anne’s ready  sympathy had taken away the heavy feeling at  her heart, that nobody would care whether she   lived or died; the very sight of her sunny face,  and bright, pretty dress had pleased the children, who talked of her for days after. Poor Mrs. Hoyt! she actually had almost a smile on her face that night, as she sat up to mend a little, ragged jacket, remembering how Miss Daland had praised the children for looking so neat.

Old Mr. Malone, who was a paralytic, was

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