2.  But that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose ways is above human comprehension, had visited her with wasting sickness, and her little means had become exhausted.  It was now, too, midwinter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through all the surrounding forests, while storms still seemed gathering in the heavens, and the driving wind roared amid the neighboring pines, and rocked her puny mansion.

3.  The last herring smoked upon the coals before her; it was the only article of food she possessed, and no wonder her forlorn, desolate state brought up in her lone bosom all the anxieties of a mother when she looked upon her children:  and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though she knew that He, whose promise is to the widow and to the orphan, can not forget his word.

4.  Providence had many years before taken from her her eldest son, who went from his forest home to try his fortune on the high seas, since which she had heard no tidings of him; and in her latter time had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband.  Yet to this hour she had upborne; she had not only been able to provide for her little flock, but had never lost an opportunity of ministering to the wants of the miserable and destitute.

5.  The indolent may well bear with poverty while the ability to gain sustenance remains.  The individual who has but his own wants to supply may suffer with fortitude the winter of want; his affections are not wounded, his heart is not wrung.  The most desolate in populous cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery.

6.  But the industrious mother of helpless and depending children, far from the reach of human charity, has none of these to console her.  And such a one was the widow of the Pine Cottage; but as she bent over the fire, and took up the last scanty remnant of food to spread before her children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper’s beautiful lines came uncalled across her mind: 

     “Judge not the Lord by feeble sense. 
       But trust him for his grace;
     Behind a frowning Providence
       He hides a smiling face.”

7.  The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a gentle rap at the door, and the loud barking of a dog, attracted the attention of the family.  The children flew to open it, and a weary traveler, in tattered garments and in apparently indifferent health; entered, and begged a lodging and a mouthful of food.  Said he:  “It is now twenty-four hour’s since I tasted bread.”  The widow’s heart bled anew, as under a fresh complication of distresses; for her sympathies lingered not around her fireside.  She hesitated not even now; rest, and a share of all she had, she proffered to the stranger. “’We shall not be forsaken,” said she, “or suffer deeper for an act of charity.”