Once I began to look at the woman I could not keep from staring at her. She was ragged, wrinkled and unwashed. The clothes that covered her back, all bent and misshapen, were tattered and torn. Her leathery face was deeply seamed and drawn. The queer sound that attracted my attention as she came up, was made by her shoes, which were large, not mates, and without strings. They slipped up and down upon her naked heels and made the “slick-slack,” “slick-slack” noise, so familiar to the country boy who has plowed in his father’s cast-off brogans, several numbers too large for his feet. The woman was pathetic-looking, her crestfallen face was partially hid from me by an antiquated, dilapidated, weather-beaten split bonnet. Every garment she wore was a misfit and threadbare. I felt myself drawn to this poverty-stricken creature. In order that I might find out something about her, I engaged her in conversation before she could wheel and escape. “Are you going fishing?” I asked. “No,” she answered pleasantly; “I came down to see if I could see my old man. He is fishing.” “Do you live here?” “Yes. We have lived in this town thirty-odd years; me and my old man.” “What does he do for a living?” “Well, he fishes now. He is getting so old and feeble that he cannot do anything else. When young and strong, he worked on a freight boat on the river, but his health failed about ten years ago, and we have had a mighty hard time since. I have actually seed the time that we did not have enough to eat. He is proud, and would not beg. He fishes, while I tries to make a little money washing and sewing, but he will not let me work much.” “Have you any children?” “No, sir, Mister; God never gave us any, and I expect it is best. We are so poor they might have a hard time. Me and him are all of the two families left. He is the only person that I have to look to and he is good to me. He does his best, and God will not forget him for it.” “Do you own a home?” “No, sir. We have nothing but a little bit of furniture. We live in a rented house and the man who owns it could put us out to-night, but he is a Christian and would not do it. We have paid no rent in six years. We just can’t; that’s the reason. But it won’t be long now, for my old man is getting weak--weaker day by day. He can’t live much longer, and when he goes I hope that I may go too. We have been together forty-odd years, and in death I pray that God will not part us. “The Lord has been good to us. We get comfort from the Bible.