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Show At Mr. Wolfe's House. Violet was a little orphanage waif, timid and repressed, the life almost crushed out of her by neglect and abuse. The offer of a good Christian Chris-tian home in the country came soon for her, but though usually so docile she fought against this plan with all her little might. "But you'll have such lovely thing?." said one of the deaconesses. "And you'll never be hungry again as long as you live." "And apples, all you want of them," put in an older child who had had a brief country experience, experi-ence, filled with sunshine and apples. "And a kind, kind lady for your own mamma. Let me read you her letter." But the little one hid her face, screaming at the very mention, and it was finally, almost like a helpless help-less lamb led to the shambles, that she was taken to her new home. A deaconess went with her. Her fright was pitiful. "If you don't like it, Violet, I will surely bring you back," promised the deaconess. It required all the tact her guardian possessed to keep Violet from convulsions as the railroad station of the destination destina-tion was reached. It was a singular thing, this fright; so very unlike the child. "This is Mr. Wolfe, your new papa. Violet." . "Hello, little one!" There was a wold of confidence con-fidence inspiring welcome in the hearty voice. "Misser Wolfe?" queried the child, gradually lifting her head to look at this Wolfe who had a man's voice, "Yes, and this is Mrs. Wolfe, your new-mamma. They oth came down to the depot to meet you." It required not many hours to thoroughly win the little heart. When the deaconess went away the next day there were tears at the parting, but it was quite plain that Violet wanted to stay in this wonderful, beautiful place, where there were not only apples and lovely things, but love itself that which the poor little starved heart wanted most of all. Weeks after the mystery was explained. 1 fought." prattled'the little one, who had expanded like a flower in the sunshine of the home, "I fought you was wolfs in 'ts house, an' 'at you was goin' to eat me all up !" Deaconess Advocate. Christ With lis. By Edwin Markham. "Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these, ye did it unto Me." I cried aloud, "There is no Christ In all this world unparadised! No Christ to go to in my need No Christ to comfort me and feed. He passed in glory out of sight, The angels drew Him into light: Now in the lonesome earth and air I can not find Him anywhere. Would God that Heaven were not so far And I were where the White Ones are!" Then from the gray stones of a street Where goes an ocean drift of feet, I heard a child's cry tremble up. nd turned to bhare my scanty cup. When lo, the Christ I thought was dead Was in the little one I fed! At this I drew my aching eyes From the far-watching of the skies; And now which ever way I turn I see my Lord's white halo burn! Where ever now a sorrow stands, 'Tis mine to heal His nail-torn hands; In every lonely lane and street, 'Tis mine to wash His wounded feet 'Tis mine to roll away the Stone And warm His heart against my own. Here, here, on Earth I find it all The young archangels white and tall, The Golden City and the doors, And all the shining of the floors! From Woman's Home Companion. ; i |