A BIT OF NEWSPAPER.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1642, 13 January 1883, Page 1 (Supplement)

A BIT OF NEWSPAPER.

"Where I lost it I don't know," said poor Mrs. Velvete, sobbing piteously ; " but it don't make any difference anyhow. Somebody has picked it up, and that's an end of it. For all I know, some one picked my pocket. New York is a dreadfully dishonest place." It was to a neighbour that Mrs. Velvete spoke. She had just come home from the city, where she had been to draw her quarter's income, and it was her purse containing the money of which she spoke. "A hundred and fifty dollar, my dear," she sighed, '' and change out of the two I bought my return ticket and a lunch with ; and it was in the brown velvet bag Jane— that's my neice in Chicago— sent me last Christmas, and poor Henry's portrait and hair in a locket. I'd taken it oil my chain to get the ring,, mended, for it didn't seem safe. Oh, yeB, and my keys on a ring, It's dreadful. , I'll never get over it, for I shall have to run in debt for my food and firing for three months, and I shall be behindhand ever after. And my poor husbancl's h,ajr and portrait, tool" "Why, don't you advertise?" asked the neighbour. , " Send more borrowed money after what's gone? I know too much for that," said Mrs. Velvete. Home she went, sad and dispirited, and havmg lived) an. Indian meal mush for a week, and on tea for two days, began to think of the loan sho must ask for sooner or ,la^er, Qld Moses Barker knew she was hon,est, and ( would, lend her something, but it would be with heavy interest. After all, th&t was better than to trouble her few friends, and perhaps break their friendship. She placed' her "papers" — her proofs that jBo much money .was hers— before the old gen,tlempn f ,wHoj peering through his spectacles, demurred, doubted, and .finally counted but fi certain sum.', She lived .miserably; enough for flic rest of the three months, ,but ,in. spite ,of f j;hat,rthe ne*t quarter's income. s was spent 'wlieir it t wa^ jlue^' .and, ,^hus, .as $he had i)^phesie ! f, ! tr.oublej.de|pfined. At lasji; head loyer , ears, [jn, ( (top, _ hi&tf ttle' r home,. Jbqr one earflily^possessioru no^ longer^eaily, fjers, but, )to'}}s ,sold r at .auction, next 'wee^> i\er. liMe capital' in the Hands os old poses^Bftr^r^ ; p^l^W^Pf mP $&# way.jj'oj

shall feel pretty well cut down, of course, but I can't starve." And Mrs. Velvete, tying her shabby bonnet under her chin, and wrapping herself in a shawl that had long since seen its best days, took her way up the road to the •' big boarding-house." " We've got a cook," the proprietor said, good-naturedly ; " and I reckon you couldn't do our cooking to suit, anyhow; but I shouldn't wonder if we'd like to have you help. I'll let you know on Thursday." Then he looked at hia watch, and Mrs. Velvete thanked him and went away again ; but the boarding-house proprietor did not send for her after all. The day of the sale was very near ; 'and finally the poor old lady, her eyes swollen with weeping, took her way to New York, and to an intelligence office, where she Bat all day waiting for an employer. The ladies wanted younger women — more active women. They feared that this jmle, old woman, with her downcast air, would fall ill on their hands. Some of the girls laughed at her amongst themselves ; but one young Irish girl said to herself : " She looks like grandmother, poor body!" and when she went out for her lunoh remembered her. " It's only a few cakes and a banany," she said, with her pretty smile, as she put something wrapped in a newspaper into her hand. " Sure it's weary sittin' here and dreadin' to lave, for fear the very lady you want will come and go in the meanwhile." "You're a good girl. Thank you," said old Mrs. Velvete. And tears fell on the cake and fruit as she ate them — tears of gratitude. She was really too poor to buy a lunch. When she had swallowed every crumb she put on her glasses, and began to read the bit of newspaper. There was something about a murder. There was an advertisemont of cheap dry goods. There was a column of lost and found notices, and as she skimmed this her eye lighted on the following : "Found, Oct — , a bag containing money and other articles. The contents of the bag make it particularly interesting to the advertiser, who wishes to see the loser, who will kindly call at No. 40 at., Koom No. 5." "Good gracious!", cried Mrs. Velvete, " it's my bag ! " She looked at the calendar on the wall. " The paper must be two years old," she thought, •' but I'll go and see the advertiser ;" and folding the scrap carefully in her glove, she hurried out of the office. It was in one of the business streets near the City Hall that she found No. 40, and was taken m an elevator to Boom No. 5. The door was opened by a boy, who, in reply to her questions, said that he did not know anything about an advertisement, but would inquire; and Mrs. Velvete waited in some trepidation, looking about her at the evidences of a large and prosperous business, at the clerks busy at their desks, at the messenger boys hurrying in and out, at the boxes and pigeon-holes innumerable, and at last was summoned to the inner office, where a benevolent-looking man of fifty-five or sixty arose to greet her. He bowed. Mrs. Velvete made a little courtesy, and began : " It's two years and a half ago, and I've just got the paper. Here it is. My bag was brown velvet, anc^the money was a hundred and fifty dollars, and poor Mr. Velvete's likeness, in a locket, was in the bag. Oh, sir, i£ you found it and have kept it, you'll save a , poor old soul from starvation." " I found it. I have it still," said the gentleman. " Now, madam, whose portrait was in the locket, and what is your name? 1 ' " The portrait was a likeness of my husband, Henry Velvete, when he was young," said the old lady. " I'm Mrs, Velvete. I used to be Miss Orchard. We married down in Florida, but bought land in New York soon after, and moved there to live on it. Mr. Velvete had losses. He wasn't a good business man, though he was the best of husbands. And the little bit he left is all gone now." " Madam," said the old gentleman, rising. " did you ever hear your husband speak of a brother — a younger brother?" "Oh, yes,'' said Mrs. Velvete — "Bichard; he went to California, and died there. Husband thought a great deal about him. We named the boy we lost after kirn." The gentleman looked at her gravely, then turned to a tray on the table, and took from it a card. Mrs. Velvete looked at it through her glasses. " Bichard Velvete," she read aloud. ' ' Why, it can't be Henry's brother 1" " It is indeed, madam," said Bichard Velvete. " For years I sought in vain for my brother, and at last heard that he was dead. I believed you dead also until I found :hat bag, but the likeness in the locket was so good, and the initials on the back, H, Y. to S. 0., so conclusive, that I advertised steadily for nearly six months. I had given up all hope of finding you ; but now we shall not lose each other again. I have so few relatives that I am covetous of them." " Wonders will never cease," wrote Mrs. Velvek^B to an old neighbour, some time sifter. " Here a^H I living like a queen, m style I never expected i^H see, keeping house for brother Bichard and hil^H son ; and all because of the bit of old newspaper^H good little Nora Murphy gave me, with cakes andH a banana in it. And, by the way, I've hunted ■ her up, and she is our little waiter now, and she ■ shall have a good home and kindnebs, and every- i thing I can give her, or my name is not "Sallie Velvete."