



Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian
Libraries)









[Illustration: “‘Lord, these are the lambs of thy flock.’”]




Jessica’s First Prayer

Jessica’s Mother

  Hesba Stretton

  New York
  H. M. Caldwell Co.
  Publishers




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.
  The Coffee-Stall and its Keeper    PAGE 5

  CHAPTER II.
  Jessica’s Temptation                   15

  CHAPTER III.
  An Old Friend in a New Dress           23

  CHAPTER IV.
  Peeps into Fairy-land                  35

  CHAPTER V.
  A New World Opens                      44

  CHAPTER VI.
  The First Prayer                       50

  CHAPTER VII.
  Hard Questions                         54

  CHAPTER VIII.
  An Unexpected Visitor                  60

  CHAPTER IX.
  Jessica’s First Prayer Answered        69

  CHAPTER X.
  The Shadow of Death                    82




Jessica’s First Prayer.

CHAPTER I.

THE COFFEE-STALL AND ITS KEEPER.


In a screened and secluded corner of one of the many railway-bridges
which span the streets of London there could be seen, a few years
ago, from five o’clock every morning until half-past eight, a tidily
set out coffee-stall, consisting of a trestle and board, upon which
stood two large tin cans with a small fire of charcoal burning under
each, so as to keep the coffee boiling during the early hours of the
morning when the work-people were thronging into the city on their
way to their daily toil. The coffee-stall was a favorite one, for
besides being under shelter, which was of great consequence upon rainy
mornings, it was also in so private a niche that the customers taking
their out-of-door breakfast were not too much exposed to notice; and,
moreover, the coffee-stall keeper was a quiet man, who cared only
to serve the busy workmen without hindering them by any gossip. He
was a tall, spare, elderly man, with a singularly solemn face and a
manner which was grave and secret. Nobody knew either his name or
dwelling-place; unless it might be the policeman who strode past the
coffee-stall every half-hour and nodded familiarly to the solemn man
behind it. There were very few who cared to make any inquiries about
him; but those who did could only discover that he kept the furniture
of his stall at a neighboring coffee-house, whither he wheeled his
trestle and board and crockery every day not later than half-past
eight in the morning; after which he was wont to glide away with a
soft footstep and a mysterious and fugitive air, with many backward
and sidelong glances, as if he