March voyage.

The little gray gown went, and the red hood, the warm socks, and the
cosey wraps no longer needed by the quiet sleeper under the snow.
Perhaps something of her loving nature lingered about the clothes, and
helped to keep the orphan warm and safe, for Annie's great delight was
to pet and help all who needed comfort and protection.

When all was ready, Maggie's small effects were packed in a light
basket, so that she could carry it herself if need be. A card briefly
telling the story was fastened on the corner, and a similar paper
recommending her to the protection of all kind people, was sewed to the
bosom of her frock. Then, not in the least realizing what lay before
her, the child was consigned to the conductor of the train to be
forwarded to persons in New York who would see her safely on board the
steamer.

I should dearly like to have seen the little maid and the big basket as
they set out on that long trip as tranquilly as if for a day's visit;
and it is a comfort to know that before the train started, the persons
who took her there had interested a motherly lady in the young
traveller, who promised to watch over her while their ways were the
same.

All went well, and Maggie was safely delivered to the New York friends,
who forwarded her to the steamer, well supplied with toys and comforts
for the voyage, and placed in charge of captain and stewardess. She
sailed on the 3d of March, and on the 12th landed at Liverpool, after a
pleasant trip, during which she was the pet of all on board.

The aunt welcomed her joyfully, and the same day the child reached her
new home, the Commercial Inn, Compstall, after a journey of over four
thousand miles. The consul and owners of the steamer wanted to see the
adventurous young lady who had come so far alone, and neighbors and
strangers made quite a lion of her, for all kindly hearts were
interested, and the protective charity which had guided and guarded her
in two hemispheres and across the wide sea, made all men fathers, all
women mothers, to the little one till she was safe.

Her picture lies before me as I write,--a pretty child standing in a
chair, with a basket of toys on the table before her; curly hair pushed
back from the face, pensive eyes, and a pair of stout little feet
crossed one over the other as if glad to rest. I wish I could put the
photograph into the story, because the small heroine is an interesting
one, and still lives with the good a