



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


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VOL. I.--NO. 11. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, January 13, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: JEANIE AND THE UMBRELLA.]

JEANIE LOWRIE, THE YOUNG IMMIGRANT.

BY MISS F. E. FRYATT.


It was early winter evening at Castle Garden, the scores of gas jets
that light the vast rotunda dimly showing the great hall deserted by all
the bustling throngs of the morning, save the few women and children
clustered around the glowing stove, and closely watched by the keen-eyed
officials who smoked and chatted within the railings near them.

Sitting apart from these, taking no notice of the gambols of the
children, was a wee lassie of perhaps eight summers, her round, childish
face drawn with trouble, and her great blue eyes brimful of tears. She
was evidently expecting somebody, for her gaze was fixed on the door
beyond, which seemed never to open.

It was little Jeanie Lowrie waiting for her grandfather's return. Old
Sandy Lowrie, thinking to take advantage of their stay overnight in New
York to visit his foster-son, who had left Scotland for America when a
lad, had gone out in the afternoon into the great city, bidding Jeanie
carefully guard their small luggage--a few treasures tied up in a silken
kerchief, and Granny's precious umbrella, which was a sort of heirloom
in the family.

While the great crowd surged to and fro, and the winter sunlight flooded
the room, Jeanie had been content to watch and wait, half pleased and
half frightened at the shouts and noises that fill the place on steamer
day; but when the men, women, and children all went away, by twos and
threes, save a few, and silence came with the increasing darkness, and
the dim gas jets were lighted overhead, her heart, oppressed by a
thousand fears, sunk within her, and she fell to sobbing bitterly.

Now there were not wanting kind hearts in the little groups around the
stove; for there was Mary Dennett, with her five laddies, going to join
her husband at the mines in Maryland; and Janet Brown, her neighbor,
with her three rosy lassies; and Jessie Lawson, with her wee Davie; and
not one of these three would see a child suffering without offering
consolation. Kind Janet soon had her folded in motherly arms in spite of
the bundle and the great umbrella, which the lassie stoutly refused to
part with for a moment; and Mary Dennett, crossing over to the counter
on the far side of the room, bought her cakes and apples; while the
children, not to be outdone, made shy endeavors to beguile her into
their innocent play.

But to each and all of these Jeanie turned a deaf ear, moaning
constantly: "I want my ain, ain gran'daddie; he hae gaun awa', an' left
me alane. Oh, gran'daddie, cam back to your Jeanie!"

The evening wore on into night, and still no Sandy came to comfort
Jeanie; but there came that great consoler, sleep. Soon she slumbered in
Janet's arms, and the kind soul, fearing to waken her, held her there
till the beds for the little company were spread on the floor; then she
laid Jeanie tenderly down, with her treasures still clasped in her arms,
and covering her, stooped to print a warm kiss on the round tear-stained
cheek, not forgetting