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��SUNSHINE AFTER CLOUDS.

��living. He is not an M. C. and is not much seen upon the floor, but there would be some fearful gaps in a good many congressional speeches if his work were blotted out. He is one of the "book worms" of the house libra- ry, belongs to the noble family of Smiths, and, horrible to think of (to some), is an American citizen of Afri- can descent.

Under the circumstances herein al- luded to, the charge of plagiarism, to which the honorable member may have

��laid himself liable, should be lightly treated and generously overlooked. It is well nigh impossible to get up an "original" speech in congress upon the standard legislative subjects, and the few attempts to do so are not well calculated to stimulate enterprise in that direction.

The purpose of this article is not to tear away too much of the veil that surrounds our lawgivers, but just enough to dispel some of the harmless illusions that exist in the public mind.

��SUNSHINE AFTER CLOUDS,

��BY HELEN M. RUSSELL.

��CH AFTER I.

" You are very tired tonight, are you not, Margie ? Your work has been harder than usual today, I know by your flushed cheek and heavy eyes. Oh my child ! how I wish I might take a portion of your heavy burden upon myself." Mrs. Benson raised herself from the lounge where she had been reclining and gently drew her daughter to her side. It was a poor room, but neat as wax. The uncovered floor was white and clean. The few chairs and small table, and well-worn lounge were neatly dusted. ■ The window curtain which shaded the one small window was snowy white ; but over all the signs of extreme poverty cast a shadow that told of toilsome days and weary nights. Mrs. Benson was a confirmed invalid. The thin cheeks, with their hectic flush, told that death was very near her. Her large brown eyes were filled with un- shed tears as she tenderly drew her daughter to her side. Margie Benson laid her head for a moment upon her mother's shoulder, with a low sigh, then she lifted it, and the dark brown eyes rested lovingly upon the face so dear to her, as she replied : " No, mother, my work has not been more tiresome than usual ; but our wages have been lowered. Mr. Brown says he cannot afford to pay as much as he has been

��paying, and I don't know how we shall live. If I could find something else to do I would leave the mill, but that I cannot do, I suppose. If father would not drink !" This last, with a bitter sob, as the brown head sank down again to its resting place. " If father would not drink!" How many hun- dreds, aye thousands of poor girls have uttered that self-same cry, wrung from their inmost hearts. The shame and misery, the anxious days and fear- ful nights of a drunkard's family, are known only to themselves. For a mo- ment Mrs. Benson made no reply. It was not often that Margie gave way to her feelings like this, but tonight she was so heart-sick and discouraged that she gave up to the sorrow that cast a blight upon her young life. Compelled oftimes to furnish her father with means to procure v his potations, her very soul shrank from the injustice of her unnatural parent. Gently Mrs. Benson stroked the curling hair away from her daughter's flushed face ere she replied. Then she said softly : "Margie, where has your courage gone ? If you lose that, what will be- come of us?" "Oh, my mother, for- give me. I do wrong to worry you like this." She paused for a moment, and then said : " I shall not give him any more money. I do not think he

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