d they were so happy--he in his clean,
tidy wife, she in her honest, sober husband.

But one day, through the carelessness of a drunken fellow-workman, some
heavy timber fell upon poor Mike, crushing him beneath its weight, and
when next Martha Flanagan looked on her husband's face, she know he was
past all suffering, and that she was destitute, and her sweet baby Nora
fatherless.

But time soothed her anguish; she must be up and doing, and for many
years she struggled on, working to keep a home for herself and child;
and proud she was of her darling, her beautiful Nora, who grew up a
sweet flower of loveliness from a rugged parent stem, with all the
beauty of her father's nation and something of the sweetness of English
grace.

Well might the poor mother be proud of her only treasure. What delight
it was to see this rare beauty brightening the lowly home! But the
mother's idol was of clay; in worshipping the creature with such fond
idolatry, she almost forgot the merciful Creator.

One sad night, on returning home from Covent Garden, where she was
constantly employed by a fruiterer and florist, she found the place
empty, no one to greet her now. Nora was gone, lost in that turbid
stream which flows through our city.

Oftentimes, as the lonely mother wended her way at night through the
streets on her return from work, would she look with a shudder into the
faces of those poor wretches who flaunted by fearing yet hoping to see
her lost child. But the name of Nora never passed her lips. No one who
knew Mrs. Flanagan imagined of this canker at her heart; that page of
her life was folded down, and closed to prying eyes; it was only when
alone with God that on bended knees she prayed Him to bring the poor
wanderer home.

"Ah, my bird!" she cried, as Pollie came joyfully dancing into the room.
"Here you are, then; I thought from what your mother said that such a
lot of money had turned you a bit crazed."

Pollie did not reply, but pursed up her lips with a look of supreme
importance as she placed her basket on the table, and proceeded to take
out its contents.

"There, mother dearie," she exclaimed with delight as she displayed the
meat; "that's for you. You must eat every tiny bit of it, so let us try
some directly. See, dear Mrs Flanagan, I bought these water-cresses for
you. Shall I fetch your tea-pot? For let us all have tea together to-day,
like on Sundays; this is such a happy day."

And she ran across the l