But sickness came; not severe, but of that kind that bears its victim along slowly to rest. She was unable to do much. She did not wish to do much; but she sat day by day, yea, night by night often, and diligently pursued the avocation that brought her daily bread.
Weeks passed, and yet she was ill. One morning, she called her daughter to her side, and, taking her hand in her own, said:
"Little Nelly, 't is Independence day, to-day. You heard the guns fire, and the bells ring, and the shouts of the happy children, this morning, before you arose. I watched you as you lay listening to all these, and I asked myself, Will my little Nelly be happy? and I thought I heard my mother's voice;—she died long, long ago, but I thought I heard her voice right at my side, saying, 'We shall all be happy soon;' and I wept, for I could not help it.
"But I've called you now, Nelly, to tell you that I'm much better this morning, and that, if you can get twenty-five cents to-day, we will have a happy time to-night."
Little Nelly looked happy for a moment, but soon a shadow came over her face; for she could not comprehend the meaning of her mother when she said she was "better," for she looked more feeble than she had ever seen her since the news of how her father was shot in the face at Monterey was told her.
But she tried to be cheerful. She tried to smile, but, O, it was very hard; and she got her mother's breakfast, and, having cleared the things away, took her little basket, and her mother's purse, and went out.
It was, indeed, a happy day without. There was joy depicted on every countenance, and the general happiness infused some of its spirit into the heart of our little trader. She seemed almost lost in the great crowd; and there were so many dealers about, and so many that presented greater attractions in the display of their stock, that few bought of little Nelly.
It was late in the afternoon, and she had sold but a little, when she encountered a young lady gayly dressed, in whose hand was prominently displayed a bead purse, through the interstices of which the gold and silver glistened.
Nelly held out her humble purse, in which no beads were wrought, through which no coin glistened,—she held it up, and ventured to ask, in pleasant tones, a few pennies of the lady. But not a penny for little Nelly. Not even a look recognized her appeal, but costly, flowing robes rushed by, and nearly prostrated her; they did force her from the sidewalk into the gutter.
Go on, ye proud and selfish one! Go, bend the knee to Fashion's altar, and ask a blessing of its presiding spirit! Bestow no pitying glance on honest poverty; no helping hand to the weak and falling! There is a law which God hath written on all his works, proclaiming justice, and giving unto all as they shall ask of him. Pass on, and heed not that little praying hand; but remember you cannot do so without asking of that law its just requital.