By this time
everybody in the city knew her. The children
all over the city loved her; the business
men were proud of her; the poor people
all came to her for advice. She used to
sit at the open door of her office, in a calico
gown and a little shawl, and give a good
word to everybody, rich or poor.
Then, by and by, one day, Margaret
died. And when it was time to read her
will, the people found that, with all her
giving, she had still saved a great deal of
money, and that she had left every cent
of it to the different orphan asylums of
the city,--each one of them was given
something. Whether they were for white
children or black, for Jews, Catholics, or
Protestants, made no difference; for
Margaret always said, "They are all orphans
alike." And just think, dears, that splendid,
wise will was signed with a cross
instead of a name, for Margaret had never
learned to read or write!
When the people of New Orleans knew
that Margaret was dead, they said, "She
was a mother to the motherless; she was
a friend to those who had no friends;
she had wisdom greater than schools can
teach; we will not let her memory go from
us." So they made a statue of her, just as
she used to look, sitting in her own office
door, or driving in her own little cart. And
there it stands to-day, in memory of the
great love and the great power of plain
Margaret Haughery, of New Orleans.
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