THE VAGABOND. CHAPTER I. AN ADVERTISEMENT. HRISTMAS EVE-a time of joy and rejoicing. Even the sad and sorrowful have been known to hail this time with a smile, if they could not enter into its delights. The merry bells which ring out so gladly, though they have in days gone by sounded to them the summons, when one or other of the loved ones had to be given back to God, are welcome. But into the home we are about to penetrate, Christmas-time could bring no joy, no pleasure, no hope, no comfort. Surrounded by every luxury, honoured, respected, and beloved, with every want supplied which riches could procure, Mr. and Mrs. Snowden are desolate indeed. B Sorrow had overtaken them, sorrow for which they were totally unprepared. They could not bear the sound of the joyous Christmas peal, every single tone of which rung a knell upon their bleeding hearts. Darkness seemed to have settled upon them like a pall. They had lost their child, their only daughter, but not by death. No Angel had visited the green earth No, their cruel, terrible loss had been no gain to their cherished darling. The little bed was empty, but as the mother knelt by it she could not stifle her wild sobs. She could not say, "She knew she should find her safe again In the fields of light above." No! their little one had been stolen from them. "What would henceforth be its destiny?" That was ever the burden of their desolate cry. "Who will show it any kindness?" answer came. But no Detectives had been sent forth; they came and went. The press teemed with descriptions of the lost one, and its supposed purloiner. Many a mother, after reading a description of its long silky, flaxen hair, snatched her own child closer to her heart, thanking God for its safety. The mother who yesterday lingered by a tiny grave when reading a description of the lost one, with its wondrously beautiful blue eyes, dried up her tears, murmuring “Shall I repine; when I know that mine is safe, where 'Christ Himself doth rule.'” Mr. Snowden, who was a hale, hearty, goodnatured gentlemanly man, stands leaning over the back of a chair, the tears slowly coursing each. other down his cheeks, having just been closeted with Detective who has been unable to hold out any hopes to him of recovering the child. He tries to smother his own grief, that he may comfort his weeping wife, but the welling tears betray the smothered agony. Mrs. Snowden has ceased to make any effort to check her tears. Before she wept, reason seemed tottering on her throne. Thus days and weeks went by, every hour but making the difficulty of tracing the lost one greater. One other child they had, a son of sixteen years, but this lost girl was their only daughter, their baby girl, who prattled at their knees, and nestled in their arms. Weeks passed into months, and still the same advertisements held a conspicuous place in all the papers. Stolen from her home, on the 1st of December, a little girl of four years. She was dressed at the time in a white cashmere frock, embroidered with silk braid, fastened round the waist with a wide silk sash. On her feet were pink kid boots, and silk socks. Her hair, which is in texture fine, and of a golden hue, is long, and curls naturally. She has deep violet blue eyes, which she is accustomed to open very wide when addressing any one. Her mouth is small, with very white even teeth. She is in stature very little, not looking older than two-and-a-half years. Upon her left foot is the natural mark of a star, of a deep red colour. Her name is Nelly Snowden. Any one restoring the said child to its parents, may claim their own price as reward." CHAPTER II. "Homeless, ragged, and tann'd Who so free in the land, Who so contented as I? "Nurs'd by hunger and want, Taught out of Nature's page, Scorning hypocrisy's wage." Kenney. ALKING through the streets of a large town, any one who is not too much occu pied with himself, cannot fail to notice, every now and then, little groups of ragged unkempt children, building their mud houses, playing pitch and toss, searching the gutters, or entertaining themselves in some equally amusing manner. These little creatures are quite familiar to us. So familiar that we seldom stay to give them a second look. If they stop up the way, we politely give them a kick, or a push on one side. They |