NETTIE'S VISIT.
It was July, and the great city was very hot. Day after day the fiery sun rose and blazed away with all his might on the dusty pavements and heated houses. All the people too who could were leaving the city.
But the poor were obliged to stay, no matter how the sun beat down into their narrow streets and small stifling rooms. There had been no rain for a long time; many people were sick and dying, and the world looked very dark to some of them. Mrs. Holmes lived high up in the topmost rooms of a tall block of buildings. Her rooms were small and hot, for the sun shone into her windows and upon the roof all the long day. She was a seamstress and a widow with one little daughter, Nettie.
Mrs. Holmes was very sad and troubled, for Nettie had not been well all the spring, and now she seemed like a little wilted flower; no strength, nor appetite, though mamma denied herself everything that she could to get nice little things to tempt her darling. The doctor had said she must have change of air, must go into the country. He might just as well have said she must go to Europe, for Mrs. Holmes had no dear old home in the country waiting to welcome her; no uncles, aunts and cousins, writing "When will you come?" So she sat through the long afternoon and tried to sew as well as she could with the heat, and the flies, and her sad thoughts.
Nettie was lying on the bed asleep, her little face as white as the pillow.
"She is going to slip right away from me, and leave me alone," the poor mother groaned to herself. "Oh, Father in heaven, help me!" she cried. "Show me what to do for my dear little daughter." The help was nearer than she thought.
"Mamma," said Nettie, sitting up very suddenly, "I had a nice dream; I guess I was in the country, for there were trees all around, and green grass, and birds singing; and such beautiful flowers! Are there any flies there?" she said, as she brushed a troublesome one from her face.
The tears came in her mother's eyes, for she remembered dimly the pleasant cool rooms, darkened by blinds and shade trees, where scarcely a fly dared set it's foot, but that was long ago.
Mrs. Bertrand lived in the city, too, and she was a widow also. The difference between her and Mrs. Holmes was that Mrs. Bertrand had a great deal of money, and lived on the broad avenue, in a stone house, with marble steps. She lived there winters, but as soon as the first warm days came she packed all her handsome dresses into her trunks, and started for her house in the country, a lovely spot on the shore of the bay. There she spent the pleasant summers, rambling over her beautiful grounds, resting under the shade trees, or sailing on the bay. Now, she was not selfish and cold-hearted, if she was a rich lady; she truly loved the Lord Jesus, and loved to do his will. So it happened that while Mrs. Holmes sat in her attic, and begged the Lord to send her help, that Mrs. Bertrand sat in her beautiful home, gazing out on the blue waters, and off to the misty hills and rosy sky. Her heart swelled with thankfulness, and she asked the Lord what to do next for him. How easy it is for God to answer people's prayers, if they would only believe it!
