WIDOW CAHOON AND HER GRANDSON.
"I wish to make a call in —— street," said a lady to me, as we together were visiting some of the poor of the city. "There is a Mrs. Smith living there, a poor old woman nearly eighty years old. She is infirm and partially blind. She has a little grandson, and she has no means with which to take care of him. We hope to persuade her to give him to us, and let us find a good home, by adoption, for him."
It was a warm winter's morning. Snow had fallen the day before, but it was rapidly disappearing. The foot sank in the melting mass at every step. The crossings were muddy, and it required some skill to pick our way along dry-shod.
We turned into the street, and sought for the number which had been given us. We found it on the door of a low, shed-like building, old and out of repair.
"Does Mrs. Smith live here?" we inquired.
"No, ma'am."
"Is there an old lady, who is almost blind, and who has a little grandson, in the house?"—we further asked, thinking Mrs. Smith might not be known by name.