r how to
render than Mrs. Bird, the poor woman was rendered more calm. A
temporary bed was provided for her near the fire; and after a short
time, Eliza, faint and weary with her long journey, fell into a heavy
slumber, with little Harry soundly sleeping on her arm.

"I wonder who and what she is," said Mr. Bird, when he had gone back to
the parlour with his wife.

"When she wakes and feels a little rested, we shall see," said Mrs.
Bird, who began to busy herself with her knitting.

Mr. Bird took up a newspaper, and pretended to be reading it, but it was
not long before he turned to his wife and said, "I say, wife, couldn't
she wear one of your gowns; and there's that old cloak that you keep on
purpose to put over me when I take my afternoon's nap, you might give
her that; she needs clothes."

Mrs. Bird simply replied, "We'll see;" but a quiet smile passed over her
face as she remembered the conversation they had had together that very
night before Eliza and little Harry came to their door.

After an hour or two, Eliza awoke, and Mr. and Mrs. Bird again went to
the kitchen. As they entered, poor Eliza lifted her dark eyes, and fixed
them on Mrs. Bird, with such a forlorn and imploring expression, that
the tears came into the kind-hearted woman's eyes.

"You need not be afraid of anything; we are friends here, poor woman!
Tell me where you came from, and what you want?" said she.

"I came from Kentucky," said poor Eliza.

"And what induced you to run away?" said Mrs. Bird.

The woman looked up with a keen, scrutinising glance, and it did not
escape her that Mrs. Bird was dressed in deep mourning.

"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a child?"

The question was unexpected, and it was a thrust on a new wound; for it
was only a month since a darling child of the family had been laid in
the grave.

Mr. Bird turned round and walked to the window, and Mrs. Bird burst into
tears; but, recovering her voice, she said--

"Why do you ask that? I have lost a little one."

"Then you will feel for me. I have lost two, one after another--left
them buried there when I came away; and I had only this one left. I
never slept a night without him; he was all I had. He was my comfort and
pride day and night; and, ma'am, they were going to take him away from
me--to _sell_ him--a baby that had never been away from his mother in
his life! I couldn't stand it, ma'am. I knew I never should be good for
anything if they