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Show witn compassion. ' "If only ' Alice had something," he Raid to Sister Theodosia, whom ho met one day at a sick bed; for the good Sis-tor Sis-tor of Charity spent lier time in tending the sick without compensation. "If only Alice had some small property she might Borne to the relief of her poor relation." "And has she not?" asked Sister Theo- ' dosia. "Nothing that I know of beyond the . house, and upon that there is a mortgage , to nearly its full value." ' "But her father upon his deathbed told me that she was provided for." "Did he, indeed?" asked the notary, surprised. "Did lie say anything more?" " "No, he was unable to; but he pointed to the floor. I am afraid lie was out of his head and meant nothing." "Stop! I have an idea," said the notary no-tary suddenly. "Can you leave for a few minutes and go with rue to the cottage?" cot-tage?" "Yes, I can be spared for half an hour," said Sister Theodosia. Together they went to the cottage, which chanced to bo close by. "Now," said the notary, when they were once inside, "to what part ot the floor did 31. Moritz point? Can you remember?" re-member?" "There," said the sister. "Very well; we will soon see whether there is anything in my idea." The notary procured a hatchet, and succeeded after a time in raising a plank of the floor, Sister Theodosia looking on meanwhile, with surprise. But her surprise was increased when, on the plank being raised, a box was discovered dis-covered underneath. "Help mo lift it," said the notary. With the aid of the hatchet he removed the cover of tho box, and the two uttered an exclamation of surprise when underneath under-neath they found a large collection of gold coins. On the top was placed a sheet of note paper, on which were writ- . . 1 ,,,. i .. ,U. Unr.A..,lt intr f ALICE'S FORTUNE.' "Sister Theodosia,-' said a feeblo voice from the bed. The Sister of Charity, a mild faced woman of middle age, answered the summons sum-mons of the dying man, and approached the bedside. The dying man was Hector Moritz, a carpenter, who had fallen from a house which he was building, a few days before, be-fore, and so injured himself that ho could not recover. He lived just outside the Tillage of St. Barbe, with his littlo girl, Alice, now 7 years old. Ilia wife had died three years before, but Alice, child as she was, could make coffee and cook an omelet as skillfully as if she were twice as old, and had acted as her father's fa-ther's little housekeeper. So it happened that, being alone, an unusual affection : had sprung up between Alice and her father. The Sister of Charity approached the bedside. The sick man's face expressed anxiety, and his eye turned from the nurse to his little girl, who was pale and I grief stricken, yet had self-control enough l not to betray her emotion lest it should lA'll Ull DO niJIUO, ill VllD liailuiriiviUQ v the deceased: The (fold In this box represents the savings of many years. It is for my daughter, Alice. For her sake I have lived frugally, and I hope It may save her from want when I um gone. Hector Moritz. "How much is there?" asked Sister Theodosia. "There are two hundred and fifty napoleons. These make five thousand francs. Truly, M. Moritz must have been frugal to save so much." "Then little Alice is an heiress," said Sister Theodosia. "It is as you say." "I am very glad. Now she can pay her board to that poor M. Corbet, and he will lose nothing by his kindness." 'I will go to-uight and tell him," The poor shoemaker was still sick, and his money had wholly given out, so that the family had had no supper. "I am sorry you are sick, my friend," said tho notary. . "Yes," said tho poor shoemaker, sighing; sigh-ing; "it is unfortunate." - ' "I think you were not wise in taking an additional burden when you had so many children already." "I am not sorry. Alice is always welcome wel-come to all that we can give her." "Then you are not sorry you have taken her?" , , , "No; but I am sorry I fell sick. The poor child has had no supper.1' "Nor any of you, I suppose?" "Nor any of us." "M. Corbet, you are a good man and truly charitable. But I have good news for you." "Good news? Well, it could nevor come at a better time." "You thought Alice was poor." "And is she not?" "On tho contrary, she is an heiress," . "What do you mean?" "Her father, left 5,000 francs for her fortune." distress her father in his last moments. "What can I do for you, M. Moritz?" asked Sister Theodosia, in a gentle voice. His glance wandered to his little girl i once more. I "Alice," he gasped, "provided for." "Do you mean that you wish Alice provided for?" asked the sister, striving to interpret his broken words, 'Already provided for money there," and he pointed vaguely downwards. '.'Poor man! He is wandering in mind," thought the sister for he was pointing to the floor; but she thought it best to appear to have understood him. "Yes," she said gently, "have no anxiety." anxi-ety." He looked at her wistfully, and then, seeming to think ho was understood, ho fell back upon the pillow from which he had lifted his head, and a moment aftci expired. When Alico realized that her father was really dead she gave way to excessive excess-ive grief so excessive that it soon wore itself out, leaving her pale and sorrowful. sorrow-ful. Sister Theodosia took her into her lap and pressed her head against her bosom in sad compassion, for littlo Alice was now without father or mother. In due time Hector Moritz was buried, and the next thing to bo considered was, how should Alice be disposed of? Hector Moritz left two near relatives, both cousins. One of these was a thriv-; thriv-; ing tradesman in the next town, a man who had prospered, partly through his selfishness, which was excessive. Tho . other, also residing in tho next town, ? I was a poor shoeinakor with a large fam- ily, who found it hard enough to make both ends meet, but was, withal, kind ' j and cheerful,, beloved by his children, ' for whom he could do so little, and popular pop-ular in tho village. These two cousins met at the funeral of Hector Moritz. "I suppose Hector died poor," said M. Ponchard, the tradesman, a little uneas- ily. "This house is all he owned, so far as I know," said the notary, "and it is mortgaged for nearly its value." ' "Humphl that is bad for the child," said M. Ponchard. "I suppose you will take her home, M. Ponchard?" said the notary, bluntly. "We all know that you are a prosperous man." The tradesman drew back. "If I am prosperous," ho said, "I have had to work for my money. It is all I can do to provide for my own family. I can't support other people's children." "Then you -won't do anything for tho child?" "I didn't say that. I'll give her twenty-five nay, fifty francs. That's all I cught to do." , "And how long will fifty francs support sup-port her?" said tho notary, disdainfully, for he detested the meanness of the rich tradesman. "That is not my affair. Sho need not starve. - She can go to the almshouse." "Who speaks of the almshouse?-' spoke up M. Corbet, the poor shoemaker. "M. Ponchard suggests that Alice go to the almshouse," said the notary. "Not while I have a home to offer her," said the poor cousin warmly. "But, M. Corbet," said the notary, "you are poor. Can you afford, with your many children, to undertake an "Is that true?" asked the shoemaker and his wife, bewildered. "Yes; and therefore it is only fitting that sho should pay her board. How long has she been here?" "Four months." "Seventeen weeks. Now, as her father's fath-er's executor, 1 am going to allow you eight francs a week and you shall undertake under-take to provide her with a homo and clothing. For seventeen weeks, then, that she has been here I owe you 120 francs. I pay it to you at once." "But it is too much," naid M. Corbet, surveying the gold with stupefaction, for he had never seen as much before. "It is right." "We are saved 1" said his wife thankfully. thank-fully. "I will go out aud buy some bread. Children, you shall have some supper." At this there was a shout of joy from thechildren, and tearsof -gratitude flowed down the cheeks of tho poor shoemaker, who pointed to Alice, and said: "She has brought me good fortune." Beforo the money was half expended the Bhoemakcr had recovered, and went to work again. The eight francs a week he received for Alice proved a great help to him, small as it may seem to my readers, read-ers, and enabled him to afford more comforts com-forts than before. From that time M. Corbet prospered, and was even able to save up money, and all through his unsellish kindness to the littlo Alico, through whom he believes good fortune has come to him nnd his. Uoratio Alger, Jr., in Yankee Blade, additional burden?" "I never look on them as burdens they are my joy and comfort," said M. Corbet. "I can't give Alice a luxurious home, but such as I have she is welcome to. I am sure the good God will not let me starve if I undertake the care of my little orphan cousin." "He's a fool!" thought M. Ponchard contemptuously. "He will always be miserably poor." But the notary grasped his hand, and Baid: "M, Corbet, I respect you. If you are not rich in money, you are rich in a good heart, and that is the best kind of riches." So, no opposition being made, the littlo Alice went home with the poor shoemaker. shoe-maker. As for the cottage, that was left in the hands of the notary to cell. As already intimated, there was a aaortgago upon it to nearly its full value, so that it "was not likely to bring much over. What littlo there should le would, of course, go to Alice. Geveial months passed without any $portunity to sell the cottago. During that time AMce remained at the house of SI. Corbet, treated, I was about to say, like one of the family. This, however, would not be strictly correct. She was not treated like one of the family, but better than one of the family; in short, like a favored guest, for whom nothing was too good. . - j 'But unfortunately at this juncture, M. j Corbet fell sick, and having always beep. compelled to live to the limit of his small j income, had nothing saved up for the j rainy day which had come upon him, ' and 60 tho family were soon in a sad trait. The notary heard of it and was stirred |