ed her large blue eyes to the face of every one who passed her--for
such humble callings, and such mute but eloquent appeals, are the common
inheritance of many, very many of God's poor in large cities, and do not
generally attract any great degree of notice from the careless (and too
often unfeeling) children of prosperity;--but there was something in the
appearance of the pale, sad girl, as, in her scant attire she shivered
in the biting wind, not often met with in the humble disciples of
poverty--a certain subdued, gentle air, partaking of much unconscious
grace, that whispered of better days gone by.

At length the clock in the steeple of the "Old South" pronounced that
the dinner hour had arrived--and despite the intense cold, the street
soon became alive with people hurrying to and fro; for what weather can
induce a hungry man to neglect that important era in the events of the
day--his _dinner_? This perfumed exquisite hurried by to fulfil an
appointment and dine at Parker's; the more sober and economical citizen
hastened on his way to "feed" at some establishment of less pretensions
and more moderate prices; while the mass of the diners-out repaired to
appease their hunger at the numerous cheap refectories that abound in
the neighborhood. But the poor, forlorn little fruit girl stood
unnoticed by the passing throng, which like the curtain of a river
hurried by, leaving her upon its margin, a neglected, drooping flower.

"Ah," she murmured--"why will they not buy my fruit? I have not taken a
single penny to-day, and how can I return home to poor grandfather and
my little brother, without food? Good people, could you but see them,
your hearts would be softened--." And the tears rolled down her cheeks.

While thus soliloquizing, she had not noticed the approach of a little
old man, in a faded, threadbare suit, and with a care-worn, wrinkled
countenance. He stopped short when he saw that she was weeping, and in
an abrupt, yet not unkind manner, inquired--

"My child, why do you weep?"

The girl looked up through her tears at the stranger, and in a few
artless words related her simple story. She was an orphan, and with her
little brother, lived with her grandfather. They were very poor, and
were wholly dependent upon a small pittance which the grandfather (who
was blind) daily earned by basket making, together with the very small
profits which she realized by the sale of fruit in the streets. Her
grandfather was v