IT was little Charity Mitchel's tenth birthday. Poor Charity had no mother. Mrs. Mitchel had died many years before, and ever since then Charity had lived in London with her father and her only brother. Edwin—a timid, delicate little fellow—was two years and a half younger than herself; and he was very fond of Charity, who was a warm-hearted, unselfish sister. Their father was usually away all day at his business in the city, but they had a kind nurse to take care of them in his absence, and a governess for some hours every morning. Charity's birthday was quite an event in the quiet household. And though some little girls might think her presents few in number, Charity was more than satisfi…
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