The Lord will provide

Chapter I

IN his handsome and richly -furnished house in Philadelphia, Mr. John Isham lay sick unto death. Dr. Rogers, who came in the morning to see him, looked very grave and sad as he turned away from his bedside ; and to Mrs. Isham’s anxious inquiry as to how her husband was, he replied, as he shook his head, “ No better, my dear madam, and I fear, unless there is some favorable change soon, we must look out for the worst.”

Mrs. Isham’s heart sank within her as the doctor spoke ; she knew too well the agony that was in store for her. She was a tall,

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graceful, aristocratic -looking woman, with the wearied, languid air of one who had long struggled with ill health. Her delicate health had long been a source of anxiety to her friends, and no one would have thought, on looking from her frail figure to her husband’s stalwart form, that he, the strong man, would be taken before his delicate wife. Yet so it was to be.

The kind doctor was gone, and Mrs. Isham had sunk into an easy-chair beside her sick husband’s bed, her face buried in her hands, when she heard some one enter. The next minute she felt her son Harry’s strong arms thrown lovingly around her.

“ Did you see the doctor before he left, Harry ?” she asked in a whisper.

“ Yes, mother, dear,” he said, pressing his cheek to hers and feeling frightened at the deadly pallor of her face and the unnatural calmness of her manner.

“ Did he tell you what he thought, my son ?” she asked, as she pointed to the bed.

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“Yes; he says there is still hope,” the young man replied, speaking in a whisper, and drawing his arms more closely around the feeble - looking frame that they encircled.

“ There is none,” she said calmly. “ Do you not see the change that has already taken place in his looks. The fever is going off, but his life is going with it.”

The young man arose from his kneeling posture beside his mother and went around to the other side of the sick man’s bed. There he again knelt, and leaning forward looked long and anxiously into his father’s emaciated and suffering face. Unfamiliar as he was with the approaches of death, he was startled at the change that his mother’s anxious eye had so soon detected. There he lay, sleeping with his eyes half open ; his breathing was growing harder and harder ; the blood had settled around his lips, while his hands and forehead were clammy with the cold perspiration of death.’ “ Will he I*

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die in his sleep ?” thought Harry. “ Will he die without ever again speaking to us, or without our being able to speak to him, to tell him how much we have all loved him, and that he is the dearest and best of fathers.” But the sick man’s hands began just then to move nervously about as if groping for something ; his eyes stared open suddenly, and, shining with the brilliancy as of a heavenly light, looked wildly around the bed for a second, until resting on Mrs. Isham’s sweet face, when their expression became one of tenderness and love.

“ Mary,” the dying man said, as his looks continued fixed on his wife, “ Mary, I have had a beautiful dream. I dreamt that the time of my suffering here on earth was over ; that the angels who are to bear me to the bosom of our Heavenly Father had been sent to carry me home. I felt their presence around my bed, and I prayed, before they took me hence, that I might be spared to say good-by to my wife and to my

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children ; and then I awoke, and here I am with you still.”

Harry buried his face in the bed-clothes and stifled the sobs which shook his manly frame, while his mother, taking her husband’s hand and stroking it tenderly, said calmly, “Yes, still here, darling, but not for long, I fear.”

“ Why do you say ‘ I fear,’ my dear wife ?” he said. “ I have not put off to this day to make my peace with God. I know that my Redeemer liveth. I feel His strong arms supporting me and know that He will be with me when I go through the dark valley. My only sorrow is for you.”

“The same God who supports you will take care of us,” said Mrs. Isham ; and her voice trembled as she added, “You know He is the God of the widow and of the fatherless.”

“ Yes,” he replied, “ and you must think more of my joy than of your sorrow. Only think — no more days and weeks of suffering

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and pain for me, but perfect rest and joy.” Then, stretching his head back upon the pillow, his face beaming with love and joy, he said, as if beholding a heavenly vision, “ The heavenly host surround my bed, and death has lost its terrors.”

After a pause, he turned to Harry and said, “ My son, see how a Christian can die. Do not put off being religious any longer. Seek the Saviour while you are young, and then as the cares and sorrows of life thicken upon you, you will find that you have a friend who sticketh closer than, a brother.”

Harry bent over and kissed his father’s hand, and, then raising it, placed it on his own head. Mr. Isham smiled faintly, and said, “ God bless you my son, and make you a comfort to your mother.” He then asked for his other children, and Harry went out to bring them in. In'a few minutes he returned, carrying in his arms, the youngest, Kate, a beautiful flaxen-haired child, three

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years old, and the pet of the house ; while the eldest daughter, Margie, a child not more than thirteen years old, entered, leading by the hand her little brother Johnny. Their father had been sick a long time, and the children bad been obliged to be very quiet and to go about the'hohse on tiptoe. They were very glad, then, when Harry came out and called them to come in and see their father ; but Margie, who was old enough to notice Harry’s distress, asked if he was very sick ; and the tears started to her eyes when he told her how ill he: was.

Little Kate was too young to understand what death was, and after Harry had held her up to kiss her father, she held out to him a bunch of flowers which she had in her hand, and said, “ Oh, papa, smell my pretty flowers.”

Mr. Isham smiled and said, “ Kate does not know what all this means.”

Johnny and Margie then kissed him. Poor little Johnny looked very much frightened,

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and clung to his mother’s skirts, while Margie knelt close beside the bed and kept her eyes fixed upon her father’s face. Harry took little Kate out of the room, and while he was in the hall a servant came and told him there was a gentleman at the door who said he must see him. Harry accordingly went ; there he found Mr. Harvie, his fafher’s partner.

“ How is your father?” he asked, excitedly.

My father is dying,” was Harry’s sad reply.

“ Dying !” exclaimed Mr. Harvie, as he wrung his hands ; “ then Heaven help his wife and children and shaking Harry’s hand, he added, “ You will suffer now, my boy, as you never suffered before.” He then turned away abruptly and hurried off.

Harry returned to the chamber of death. There he found the little group about the bed just as he left them ; but it was plain that his father was sinking rapidly, and that

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II he had not long to live. . His breathing was now very hard, and each long-drawn breath was getting to be more and more a groan or a sigh. The time between them grew longer and longer. At last they thought his breathing had stopped, and poor Mrs. Isham gave a start; but the dying man made one more effort, drew another long breath, and turning his eyes towards his wife, bent his looks upon her and said, “ Mary.” The poor woman started up with a scream, and then fell fainting back in her chair. She had seen that her husband’s last breath had fled with that word.

The funeral was all over. Mrs. Isham had followed her husband to his grave with her children clinging to her ; she had seen the coffin lowered into its last resting place, and heard the solemn words, “ Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes,” uttered over the remains of the husband she had loved so well ; and when the grave closed over him, she turned away, feeling that she had buried

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with him the brightest and happiest days of her life. That evening she was lying on her couch ; poor little Katy was playing about the room quietly, only stopping now and then to run to her mamma and kiss her pale face, or ask her why they had carried her papa away in that strange-looking carriage, and how she was ever to get down into that steep grave to kiss him when she wanted to see him. Her mamma tried to make her understand that her dear papa was with Jesus in heaven, and that he was happy there, and she must try and be good that she might go there to him. Johnny was lying in his mother’s arms on the couch, where he had cried himself to sleep. Margie was standing at her mother’s head, smoothing back from her brow her beautiful* hair, already streaked with gray, or kissing away the tears that now and then stole down her cheeks, when the door opened and Harry came in. He was pale and agitated ; his mother was frightened at the

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way he looked, and as he threw himself into a chair beside her and buried his face in his hands, she exclaimed, “ O Harry ! what is the matter now ?”

“ Ruin, mother, ruin !” he cried out.

“ Ruin, my son ?” she said, starting up ; “ ruin ? Do you mean that your father has left nothing to support us ?”

“ He thought he had left us rich, dear mother,” he replied ; “ but while he was ill, Mr. Harvie went into a gold speculation, which has failed and utterly ruined them both ; it will take every cent that father left and more besides to pay his debts.”

“ Then my children have no home as well as no father,” said Mrs. Isham mournfully.

Harry again buried his face in his hands and was silent. Mrs. Isham fell back on her couch and waited for him to say what was to be done. At last he spoke, and told her that the house would have to be sold as soon as possible, and everything in it ; that all the furniture, plate, pictures, and, indeed,

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almost all that they possessed, would have to go too. Then he went on to say that his father’s friends had advised him to move to one of the Western cities, where it was easier for a young man to rise in business than where he then was. The persons to whom Mr. Isham and Mr. Harvie owed money had also very kindly offered to let him have money enough to move his mother and her family out West and support them on until, he could get into business.

Mrs. Isham felt that, under the circumstances, this would be the best thing for them to do, and she told Harry that she would agree to any plan which his father’s friends might advise him to follow. She could not, however, recover from the shock which she had received on hearing of their sudden loss of fortune, and after Harry left the room she remained buried in melancholy thought. She looked sadly around her large, handsome room with all its comforts ;• its beautiful mirror and curtains ; its heavy,

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rich -looking carpets, and large luxurious easy-chairs, and then she thought that all that was to be exchanged for some plain room, scantily furnished, where, perhaps, she would be thankful, even with the strictest economy, to obtain a bare support, after having been all her life used to the luxuries of wealth.

She thought of all this, and then when she felt the sharp pang through her chest as she coughed, she thought, too, of how quickly her health might give way when she had to struggle with adversity ; and then what was to become of her poor little children ? Who was to take care of them ? But she remembered her own words to her dying husband : “ You know He is the God of the widow and the fatherless and she took courage. She prayed to God for strength and hope ; she even felt thankful that He had taken her husband from her and spared him all the agony he would have suffered had he lived. While her heart was

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filled with sorrow, and she was praying for comfort, she felt Margie’s little arms clasped round her neck, while her little mouth whispered in her ear, “ Mother, ‘ the Lord will provide.’ Don’t you remember that hymn you used to repeat to me, in which every verse ended with that? He will take care of us.”

Mrs. Isham drew the child closer to her and kissed her as she told her she was glad that she had reminded her of that beautiful hymn, and she felt sure that God would take care of them.

After a week or two, it was decided that the Ishams should move to St. Louis, where it was thought that Harry, with the letters of recommendation which he would take with him from his father’s friends, could soon get into business, and be able to take care of his mother and little sisters and brother. As it was now late in the fall, it was decided, too, that they had better set out for their new abode at an early day, that

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Mrs. Isham, in her delicate state of health, might not have to take the long, tedious journey in cold weather. So she had no time to spend in idle grief for her husband, or in vain regrets for the happiness of her past life ; she had to set to work to pack up such things as were to be taken with her, and to arrange to be sold those that were to be left behind.

Margie was at her mother’s side all the time, and did all she could to aid and help her. She collected all her clothes and playthings and those of her little brother and sister. While her mother was packing her trunks, she stood by and handed everything to her. Poor little Johnny and Kate could not understand why things were being turned upside down. Katy wanted to know if they were “ going already to heaven to see dear papa and Johnny asked if ** “ mamma was going to remove into a bigger and a prettier house.” Margie, who saw how much their questions distressed i8

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her mother, told them not to worry her; and they ran back to their play wondering why Margie was so cross.

At last Mrs. Isham finished her packing, after which she went round to take a last look at everything in the house. She went into the large, handsome parlor, where everything was so beautiful and so luxurious. There, placed by the fire, was her husband’s easy-chair ; there was her piano, with whose sweet tones she used to entertain him and her children in the long winter evenings. Everything looked so home-like and natural— even the pictures seemed, from the walls where they hung, to smile down as sweetly upon her in her sorrow as they had done in the days of her joy. She went thus from one room to another, with the children running after her, they, too, unconsciously taking a farewell look at everything.

Mrs. Isham had very few friends to take leave of, for her husband had been an Eng-

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lish merchant in Liverpool, who had moved to America not many years before his death. Her delicate health had prevented her from going into society and forming new acquaintances, and Mr. Isham’s friends and acquaintances were among men actively engaged in business, whose thoughts were too much occupied with their own affairs for them to remember long the widow and her children.

At length the day arrived which had been appointed for their departure for St. Louis. The carriage to take them to the depot drove to the door, and, with a heavy heart and a last sad look at the old home, Mrs. Isham got into it. Harry put the children in, and then jumping in himself, ordered the man to drive on.

CHAPTER II. HE rain was falling fast when a car

-L riage, containing Mrs. Isham and her family, stopped before a small boarding-house in St. Louis. The little party were wearied and worn out with the long days and nights of tedious and unceasing travel. Poor Harry, who had been overworked in winding up his father’s affairs before he left Philadelphia,, and had set out on the long journey wearied in both body and mind, was even more fatigued at its close than his delicate mother, and, indeed, he looked so wretchedly that Mrs. Isham feared he was going to be ill, and was glad enough to reach the end of her journey. They selected the boarding-house to which they went because it was a cheap one, for now

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they had to practice the strictest economy in living. The money which Harry had to support them on until he could get into business was a small sum, and they knew that if that were all spent before he could get a place they would be penniless.

They took two small rooms, and made themselves as comfortable as possible in them. After a week or two, Harry succeeded, with great difficulty, in getting a place with a small salary, just as the money he had brought with him was nearly all gone. His mother, who was ever anxious about him, and who saw that he looked more and more wearied and fagged out every day, was afraid that he was not well enough to undertake any work yet awhile, but she knew that her children were dependent ©n him for their daily bread, and she could only bow her head in submission and hope for the best.

They soon found that Harry’s small pay would not support them at their boarding-

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house, cheap as it was, and that some cheaper mode of living would have to be found.

Harry and his mother thought over the matter, and determined that it would be best for them to get cheap rooms, and try and provide their own meals. He accordingly looked about, and found two small rooms in a house which was situated in a remote part of the town, and thither they moved.

The house was a gloomy -looking one, and Harry felt sorry to be obliged to take his mother there, and thought she would be much shocked when she saw it.

Mrs. Isham had determined, however, to make the best of everything ; and whenever her thoughts strayed back to the 'comfortable home which she had left>in Philadelphia, she remembered that, during our Saviour’s life, He had suffered for a place in which to lay his head. So, when she went up the dark, old staircase leading to the room which she was told was hers, she

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did not exclaim, “ Oh, how gloomy !” as she might well have done, but said how thankful she was to find a bright fire in it.

The room was, indeed, a dark and gloomy one. It was without curtains and carpet, and the only window in it opened upon a dark and dirty-looking alley. Two or three chairs, a table and a large and a small bed, was all the furniture that it contained.

Mrs. Isham, wearied with the fatigue of ascending the long flight of stairs, sank exhausted into a chair, while Katy and Johnny clung to her skirts and seemed to feel as if some new and terrible ’calamity had befallen them. Katy began to cry when Margie wanted to take off her little cloak and hat, while Johnny asked, hysterically, if he was never again to go back and live in their own nice house in Philadelphia. “And, oh, Margie,” he whispered to his sister, “are Katy and I to sleep in that ugly little bed ?”

“ Yes, Johnny,” Margie said; “but you must not cry and be bad about it, for, if you

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do, God might get angry and take our dear mamma away from us and carry her to heaven as he has taken papa.”

Poor Margie, who had, until now, had nothing to do but to try and cheer her mother up and to keep her company, soon found that there would be work enough for her little hands to do ; and while Harry had the trunks brought up-stairs, she was busy waiting upon her mother and the children, for Mrs. Isham was too delicate to do anything herself.

Margie took off Katy’s wrappings and gave her some of her toys to play with. Then she turned to her mother and took from her her bonnet and shawl, and fixed a pillow at the back of the straight, hard chair she sat upon, to make it more comfortable for her.

They had brought some provisions with them, and out of these Margie took some tea and bread. She did not know how to make tea, but Harry put a small tea-kettle

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full of water on the fire, and, when it was boiling, her mother showed her how to make the tea. So, at last, she had a cup of tea for her, after stooping before the fire until her little face was as red as a beet and she looked as hot as possible.

After giving her mother a cup of tea, the children had their supper, and she kept them quiet, lest their noise should disturb their mother. But how was she to get Katy to bed without a cry. Every time the little thing looked at the coarse, hard bed waiting for her, she seemed to shudder and be filled with disgust at the thought of having to sleep on it. By degrees, however, Margie coaxed and persuaded her to lie down upon it, when she soon cried herself to sleep. Johnny then followed her example, and Margie, having thus fixed them for the night, went and sat down beside her - mother.

Mrs. Isham, whose loving eyes had been following her all about the room, now 3

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praised her for her kindness to her little brother and sister, and told her how thankful she was to see she could make herself so useful, and that she was sure she was going to be a comfort and support to her during her sorrows and troubles. Margie felt very happy to know that what she had done had pleased her poor, sick mother ; but she could not help wondering how she could ever be a support to her. She did not know, poor child ! how much even the least of us can do, if we will have patience and perseverance, and continue to trust and hope in God, no matter how dark and troublous the days may seem to us.

Mrs. Isham and her family had scarcely gotten fairly settled down in their new abode when they had a new trial to encounter. Poor Harry, who had been struggling to keep off an illness ever since he had left Philadelphia, and who had to work very hard in his new place, became more and more drooping every day, and his mother saw, with an aching heart, what an effort he had to make every day to go to his work. Besides the agony which the bare possibility of his being sick was to her, she knew that if he were to get so, and his pay be stopped, they would be left penniless. As it was, he barely got enough to pay their room -rent and give *them supplies. They were too poor to keep a servant, and so little Margie had to work very hard to do all she could to save her mother, who was very sick sometimes and unable to do anything. At last Harry came home one night later than usual, and looked so wearied and pale that his mother was frightened at his appearance as he entered the room, and exclaimed, “ Oh, Harry, are you going to be ill too ?”

“No, I hope not, dear mother,” he replied, trying to smile faintly, “ only this pain in my head is very bad just now and, as he sat down, he pressed both hands on his temples and uttered a groan in spite of himself

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His mother felt sick at heart, for she remembered that his father’s illness had begun with the same violent pain, but said nothing, and only wrung her hands in silent agony as she thought of their pitiable condition. She laid her hand on Harry’s forehead and found that it was dry and hot, and already his handsome face was flushed with fever. What was to be done ? If Harry, her last hope, was taken from her, how could she, weak and helpless as she was, struggle along and support her little children ?

Margie saw her mother’s trouble, and was soon at her side to comfort and console her. “ Make him go to bed now, mamma,” she whispered, “ and perhaps he will be well in the morning?”

But the morning came, and anxious though he was to return to his work, Harry had to agree that he was too sick to get up, and to yield to his mother’s entreaties to lie

quietly in bed.

And so things went on, day after day, for

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a week, each day Harry and his mother thinking that the next morning he would be better and able to get up, but the morning finding him as sick, if not sicker, than the day before. In the meantime, the provisions they had were going fast, and as long as Harry was sick no money was coming in with which to buy more. The knowledge of this hung over Mrs. Isham like a nightmare, and unless Harry got well soon she could not imagine what would become of them, situated, as they were, in a strange city and without friends.

One morning, after Margie had given Johnny and Katy their plain and scanty breakfast, and had prepared a cup of tea and a bit of toast for her mother, Mrs. Isham noticed that she had kept for herself only a crust of bread.

“ Margie, my dear,” she said, “ are you sick ? Is that the reason you are not eating any more breakfast ?”

“ Oh ! no, mamma,” replied Margie, try- 3*

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ing to look bright, “ you know I like crust.”

The trouble, however, flashed through Mrs. Isham’s mind, and she asked if the bread was all gone. Then, for the first time, poor little Margie gave way, and bursting into tears, she said, “ Oh ! yes, mamma, and the meat too. What are we to do ? What are we to do ?”

Her poor mother clasped her in her arms and told her not to cry so, or she would make Katy and Johnny cry too, for already they had stopped playing and were looking frightened. “And don’t you remember, my little daughter,” she continued, “how you reminded me the other day that ‘ The Lord will provide ?’ He is the same God yesterday, to-day and forever, and will not let us starve. Have you forgotten how he sent the ravens to feed Elijah ?”

Margie soon dried her tears, and was comforted by her mother’s soothing words. Then Mrs. Isham began to think over the few trinkets and pieces of jewelry which

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she had been able tg keep, and to try and decide which should go first. She looked down at the wedding-ring on her white, thin hand, and said, with a sigh, “ No, that shall be the last !” She then told Margie to look in her trunk and bring her those two little red morocco boxes which were there.

Margie did as her mother told her, and Mrs. Isham opened the larger of the two boxes. It contained a handsome gold bracelet. “ Oh, that was his gift, too!” she said, thinking of her dead husband ; and, with a sigh, she shut it and laid it aside. “ This will do, though,” she said, as she opened the second case, and saw that it contained a small pearl pin.