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DESPONDENCY. 
: Please, sir, take me over the crossing,” said a 
little faint voice, as I was leisurely taking my morning 
walk. 
The strange request roused me from my reverie; 
and looking imploringly in my face stood a thinly-clad, 
shivering little girl, who carried a small bundle, which 
she held in her hand with a singular tenacity. I gave 
a searching look into the child’s face, while she im¬ 
ploringly repeated: 
“ Will you take me over the crossing quick ? I’m in 
such a hurry.” 
Tossing her in my arms I hounded over the muddy 
pathway; and just as I set down my little charge the 
bundle slipped from her grasp, or rather its contents, 
leaving the empty paper in her hands, and an em¬ 
broidered vest on the sidewalk. I picked up the vest, 
and in doing so unrolled the same, when lining, sew¬ 
ing-silk, and padding were all disengaged, so that the 
nimble fingers of the poor child picked up, and 
brushed, and packed them together again with scru¬ 
pulous care; and tying them firmly, she gave me a 
sweet smile and bounded along. She would soon 
have passed from my sight had I not again called 
after her, and interrogated her why she made such 
haste. 
“0, sir,” she replied, “because my mother must 
have expected me an hour ago. I have been waiting 
for the young gentleman at the tailor’s shop to decide 
which color lie preferred, and then the tailor told me 
to stop while he cut it, and then he gave me such a 
beautiful pattern for my mother to embroider it by — 
but it’s a sight of work to do it, sir, and I’m afraid 
she will set up all the long nights to sow, while I am 
sleeping, for the man said he must have it completed 
by next Thursday; the young gentleman is to he 
married then, and will want it—and if it isn’t done, 
maybe he would never give mother another stitch of 
work, and then what would become of us ? ” 
And as the child hurried on, I caught the same 
hurried footsteps, and followed on until we came to 
another crossing,when again came the beseeching tone: 
“Will you take me over this crossing, too, sir?” 
It was done in a trice, and my interest in the child 
increased as her prattle continued : 
“Mamma is to have a dollar for this work, and she 
means to buy me a new frock with a part of the money, 
and then we shall have a great loaf of bread and a 
cup of milk, and mother ■will find time to eat with 
me — if there is any money left -she says I shall have 
a little open-work straw bonnet, and go to Sunday- 
school with Susy Niles.” 
And her little feet scarcely touched the walk, so 
light and fairy-like was her tread. 
“And does your mother work for one man all the 
time, little girl ? ” I inquired. 
“ 0 no, sir; it is only now and then she gets such 
a nice job. Some of the time she has to sew for slop¬ 
shops, where she earns but about twenty-five cents a 
day, and then she has hardly enough to pay her rent, 
and it isn’t all the time we get enough to eat—hut 
then mother always gives me the big slice when there 
is one big and one little one; sometimes she cries and 
don’t eat her’s at all.” 
A coach was passing—the child looked toward it 
and remarked: 
“I know the lady in that, pretty carriage—she is the 
very one that, is going to marry the young gentleman 
who is to wear this embroidered vest. She came to 
my home yesterday to get my mother to spangle the 
wreath round her white satin dress, and it’s just the 
same pattern that is to be put on the vest ; but she 
could not do it, ’cause her eyesight is so poor; and the 
spangles shine so.” 
My tongue was silent. Could it be that these were 
to be the very articles that were to be worn at my 
Ella’s wedding? For did I not pay for spangles 
yesterday, and what was it that vexed Ellen, but 
because she could not find anybody to sew them on 
when she returned ? She said Mrs. Taggard was 
almost blind. 
“My little girl,” said I, “ is your name Taggard? ” 
“ Yes, sir, ’Gusta Taggard, and we live down in 
Sullivan court. Are you going home with me ? ” 
It was a sensible conjecture ; for why else should I 
follow on? 
“Iam going to see you safely at the door, and to 
help you over all the crossings.” 
“ There’s only one more, sir, and here it is, we live 
down there at No. 3, in the third floor back.” 
The child looked kindly, and as she sweetly bade 
me “good-bye, sir,” I thrust my hand in my pocket 
and drew from it all the change it contained, which 
was a bright fifty-cent piece, and placed it in her 
little palm. ’Gusta Taggard gave me her heartfelt 
thanks, and was soon out of my sight. 
An hour before, I had started from my home an in¬ 
valid. I had long deliberated whether an exposure to 
a chilly east wind would not injure rather than im¬ 
prove me—I was melancholy, too ; my only daughter 
was about to he married—there was confusion all over 
the house—the event was to he celebrated in fashion¬ 
able style. Ellen’s dress had cost what would have 
been a fortune to this poor seamstress, and I moralized. 
But I had forgotten myself-—the cough which had 
troubled me was no longer oppressive. I breathed 
quite freely, and yet I had walked more briskly than 
I had done for months, without so much fatigue as 
slow motion occasioned — so that when I returned my 
wife rallied me upon looking ten years younger than 
when I left her in the morning ; and when I told her 
the specific, lay in my walk with a little prattler, and 
the satisfaction of having left her happier than I found 
her, she took the occasion to press the purchase for 
Ellen of a diamond brooch, affirming that if the gift 
of half a dollar made me so much happier, and that, 
too, to a little errand street girl, what would fifty 
times that amount confer upon one’s only daughter, 
upon the eve before her marriage ? 
I gave the diamond brooch — I.paid the most extrav¬ 
agant bills to upholsterers, dry-goods establishments, 
confectioners, and musicians, with which to enliven 
the great occasion, and yet. I found more satisfaction 
in providing for the real wants of little ’Gusta Taggard 
and her mother than in all. the splendid outlay at the 
wedding ceremony ; and it was not that it cost less 
which made the satisfaction, but it was that all extrav¬ 
agant outlays, in the very nature of things, are un¬ 
satisfactory, while ministering to the necessities of the 
truly needy and industrious confers its own reward. 
I had seen the glittering spangled dress — but it was 
made ready by some poor emaciated sufferer, who 
toiled on in patient trust, and the embroidered vest 
as finished by the strained vision and aching head of 
another, who was emphatically one of “ God’s poor,” 
upon whom blight or disgrace had not fallen, save by 
His appointment.; and the diamond brooch was borne 
off but to be envied and coveted by admiring throngs, 
while the simple coin, bestowed upon my little street 
acquaintance had introduced me to a new species of 
enjoyment, which never cloys in the retrospect or 
causes uneasiness in the prospective. I had learned 
In do good in small ways — my morning walks have 
now an object and aim. T pass by splendid palaces to 
hasten to Sullivan court, and thence on to yet other 
sources of enjoyment, so that my invalidism is fast 
leaving me by the new direction which is given to my 
thoughts. 
I am free to acknowledge that while I cheerfully 
pay for flannel robes, and whalebone skirts, and opera 
hats, and jewels, and silver-ware, and servants, and 
all the requirements which fashion imposes, I derive 
far less pleasure from surveying them, than in sitting 
beside some worthy recipient of charity, who tells me 
that the little sum “ you gave mo saved me from 
despair and self-destruction, and enabled me to become 
helpful, so that no other assistance is now necessary.” 
Such a confession fills a void which administering to a 
luxury never can ; and all this satisfaction originated 
in first helping a little child over the crossing. 
A PARISIAN DESPOT. 
During the palmy days of the ex-Empress Eugenie, 
there was current in court circles the following anec¬ 
dote of Felix, her Majesty’s lmir-dresser: He was 
known throughout Paris as a thorough despot. 
Respecting this, the crowning glory of the toilet, lie 
allowed no suggestions or interference from any of his 
customers, however seductively they might be offered. 
On the evening of a certain ball in the Tuilleries, his 
services being engaged by the Duchess of -, he 
entered her dressing-room with the air of a monarch. 
“ What dress are you going to wear to-night, ma- 
dame?” inquired Mons. Felix, leisurely drawing off 
his immaculate white kid gloves as he approached the 
dressing-table, where a magnificent set of coral orna¬ 
ments was spread to view. • “A white moire antique,” 
was the reply. “White moire !” said the artist, with a 
dissatisfied shrug; “the moire is common-place; all 
plebeians’wives wear white moire.” “Oh! but this 
dress is really very beautiful,” returned the Duchess, 
humbly ; and certainly you won’t see many plebeians’ 
wives with such a dress as that,” continued her Grace, 
waving her hand to the doorway, where her maid was 
extending her dress for inspection. It was surprisingly 
elegant—a lovely, lustrous fabric, the sheen of its spot¬ 
less folds being almost hidden by rich meshes of point 
cleVenise , arranged as a graceful overskirt- “Ah, ’uni!” 
said the artist, scanning it critically. “With the lace it 
may pass muster,” with a shrug; “ but as for the coral, 
I shall not use it.—it will not be becoming to your style 
of face.” “ But, Mons. Felix,” ventured the lady, “I am 
so fond of it.. I thought of asking you to dress my hair 
with double braids, and the beautiful coral beads you 
could twist among them.” “Madame,” returned this 
unfeeling autocrat, “your fancies are nothing tome; I 
must dress your hair according to my inspirations, not 
according to yours. It is I, not you, who are your hair¬ 
dresser. Coral is heavy, Anglican; fit only for Creoles. 
A wreath of pomegranate blossoms would suit you ad¬ 
mirably.” “Nevertheless, Mons. Felix,” murmured his 
patron. ‘ ‘ If you have no confidence in me, madame, call 
in another artist ; I am responsible for the good looks 
of my clients,” returned monsieur, haughtily drawing on 
his glove and moving toward the door. To hesitate was 
critical. “ Justine,” said she, addressing her maid, 
“ take away the coral and bring a box of pomegranate 
blossoms.” “And a few diamonds,” added the unmer¬ 
ciful Felix, replacing his gloves in his pocket; and, 
taking up a comb, he was soon deeply absorbed in ful¬ 
filling his “inspirations.” So much for the lordly hair¬ 
dresser. His price for his valuable time was almost 
incredible. The Duchess went to the ball immeasur¬ 
ably happy, because her exquisite coiffure was one of 
the marvels of Paris—a study by the superb Felix. 
