A great deal has been said and written on the subject of indiscriminate giving, and many who have little sympathy with the needy or distressed, make the supposed unworthiness of the object an excuse for withholding their alms; while others, who really possess a large proportion of the milk of human kindness, in awaiting great opportunities to do good, overlook all in their immediate pathway, as beneath their notice.  And yet it was the “widow’s mite” which, amid the many rich gifts cast into the treasury, won the approval of the Searcher of Hearts; and we have His assurance that a cup of cold water given in a proper spirit shall not lose its reward.

Our design in the present sketch is to call the attention of the softer sex to a subject which has in too many instances escaped their attention; for our ideas of Charity embrace a wide field, and we hold that it should at all times be united with justice, when those less favoured than themselves are concerned.

“I do not intend hereafter to have washing done more than once in two weeks,” said the rich Mrs. Percy, in reply to an observation of her husband, who was standing at the window, looking at a woman who was up to her knees in the snow, hanging clothes on a line in the yard.  “I declare it is too bad, to be paying that poking old thing a half-a-dollar a week for our wash, and only six in the family.  There she has been at it since seven o’clock this morning, and now it is almost four.  It will require but two or three hours longer if I get her once a fortnight, and I shall save twenty-five cents a week by it.”

“When your own sex are concerned, you women are the closest beings,” said Mr. P., laughing.  “Do just as you please, however,” he continued, as he observed a brown gather on the brow of his wife; “for my part I should be glad if washing-days were blotted entirely from the calendar.”

At this moment the washerwoman passed the window with her stiffened skirts and almost frozen hands and arms.  Some emotions of pity stirring in his breast at the sight, he again asked, “Do you think it will be exactly right, my dear, to make old Phoebe do the same amount of labour for half the wages?”

“Of course it will,” replied Mrs. Percy, decidedly; “we are bound to do the best we can for ourselves.  If she objects, she can say so.  There are plenty of poor I can get who will be glad to come, and by this arrangement I shall save thirteen dollars a year.”

“So much,” returned Mr. P., carelessly; “how these things do run up!” Here the matter ended as far as they were concerned.  Not so with “old Phoebe,” as she was called.  In reality, however, Phoebe was not yet forty; it was care and hardship which had seamed her once blooming face, and brought on prematurely the appearance of age.  On going to Mrs. Percy in the evening after she had finished her wash, for the meagre sum she had earned, that lady had spoken somewhat harshly about her being so slow, and mentioned the new arrangement she intended to carry into effect, leaving it optional with the poor woman to accept or decline.  After a moment’s hesitation, Phoebe, whose necessities allowed her no choice, agreed to her proposal, and the lady, who had been fumbling in her purse, remarked:—­