no little difficulty that I discovered her abode, which was far up one of the avenues, in a thinly-populated neighborhood. On inquiring at the door for Mrs. Jordan, I was told by one, who chanced to be of Yankee origin, that she 'expected there wa' n't no sich person lived there.' The building was a crazy old tenement, and bore indications that it was occupied by several families. Accordingly, I pursued my inquiry, with real city adhesiveness. You are mistaken,' I replied. I have certain information that the lady I have named does live here. Do you know all the persons in the house?'

"Wall! I expect I du.'

"And there is none of the name of Jordan?'

"Not's I know on. Is she a widder?'

"Yes.'

"Has she got three or four children?'

"Have her children got towy heads and blue eyes?' "Very likely,' I repeated; I know but little of her family.'

"Wall!' she resumed, 'there was jest sich a woman I used to know down in Fairfield, about tu or three months ago, but I don't know where on airth she is now.' "This is not to the purpose!' I exclaimed, somewhat vexed at the ill-timed loquacity of the girl. The person I mean is a young widow, and, I believe, has a sick child, a little girl-'

6

"Oh!' interrupted the girl, with a significant smile,

'I know who you mean now!—it's the pale woman in the basement. If you go down and knock at the airydoor, somebody will let you in, I guess.' So saying, she closed the door in my face.

"I followed the direction I had received; and after repeated applications of my knuckles to the door, it was opened by Mrs. Jordan herself. This circumstance threw me somewhat off my guard, since I had not reckoned upon meeting her so abruptly, face to face; and my movements had been thus far so precipitate, that I had neglected to study the part I was to enact in the coming scene. "Madam—your pardon,' I contrived to stammer out -"Mrs. Jordan, I believe?'

"Yes, sir,' she replied, with visible embarrassment, while her eyes were bent upon the ground.

"You may remember that I met you yesterday at the shop of Mr. Smith, where I learned some facts that have induced me to bring my work to you, instead of paying the profits on the labor to him. Will you do me the favor to undertake the task of making up my linen?' Seeing her about to reply, I interrupted her: You have no time for it at present, you would say; I heard you say yesterday that your child was ill. I am in no hurry—do it at your leisure; and as I am a stranger to you,' I continued, deliberately, at the same time observing her closely, to discover whether she did or did not recognise me, 'do me the favor to accept one half the price of the labor on deposite, until such time as the work shall be completed,'

She made no reply, for some reason which I did not at the moment comprehend, but beckoned me to enter. I did so; and she led me the way through a door that opened out of the dark passage and communicated with the room into which we entered. She motioned me to a seat, and threw herself into a chair, with her face buried in her hands, and wept bitterly."

At this stage of the narration, my excitable friend started up from his chair, took a few hasty turns up and down the room, and smoked his cigar with redoubled vehemence.

"Fool! precipitate fool that I was!" he exclaimed, resuming his seat. "She knew me; and my well-meant but clumsily-proffered kindness had startled her from her self-possession. I could have bitten my tongue in twain, for spite, when I discovered the pain I had unwittingly inflicted upon her. I had sense enough left, thank Heaven, not to interrupt her paroxysm of grief, which lasted, perhaps, for the space of ten minutes, when she raised her head, looked eagerly into my face, and, in the most touching manner, asked me, 'Harry Barton, am I right, you recognised me yesterday ?'

"With some confusion, I answered that I did.

"I thought as much,' she rejoined; and the circumstance has caused me much pain. Why, I leave you to imagine now that you know nearly all that you can know of my situation. Yesterday, I would have sacrificed much -yet that could not well be, either, since I have but little to sacrifice, except my dear children-' Here her voice

became again partially stifled by emotion, and she hesitated for a moment to proceed. I observed that she was morbidly sensitive, and that the most trifling indiscretion on my part would be likely to open the fountain of her tears afresh. The effect of my first blunder admonished me not to risk anything in the shape of consolation, and accordingly I waited for her to proceed in her own way. After a moment, she continued: Yesterday, I would have shunned this recognition by every means in my power; but since it has occurred, perhaps it is for the best. I see that you comprehend my present situation, and it would be the foolishness of pride in me to reject your proffered kindness; and Heaven knows I have endured enough already for that sin to make me very, very humble.'

"Permit me,' I said, anxious to withdraw her mind from a subject which I perceived to be a painful one to her, 'to inquire after your little daughter. Is she better this morning?'

"Thank you,' she replied, 'she is much better; and I trust her fever has entirely left her. You shall see her.' "She turned to a bed, standing against the wall, and leaned over the pillow of her sleeping child. While she was thus occupied, I took occasion to glance about the room, and felt sick at heart at the want of comfort it exhibited. There was no carpet upon the floor, and manifold wide cracks were visible, through which the cold autumn air found its way, that gave to the atmosphere a chilly feeling, notwithstanding there was a fire on the

hearth, kindled from pine shavings and carpenters' chips, doubtless gathered about the door of some neighboring shop. Upon the mantlepiece stood a black junk-bottle, which appeared to perform the office of candlestick, and a flatiron, the handle of which was partly broken off. Further along, was suspended upon the wall a rude cupboard, containing a few articles of crockery ware; and beyond this a shelf, with a few odd volumes. A coarse, pine table, a broken stool or two, and a barrel for charcoal, with a few cooking utensils, completed the furniture of this cheerless abode, with the exception of one article, that arrested my attention to that degree that I involuntarily approached to examine it more carefully. It was an OddFellow's certificate of membership, mounted with a plain walnut frame, and suspended over the chimney-piece. I looked at the name: it was that of my old friend Charles Jordan. I was about to make some remark in reference to it, when she beckoned me to approach the bed. The little creature lay in a sweet slumber. The rosy tint of health was banished from her cheeks, and she looked more like the marble creation of some skilful sculptor than a thing of life. The doting mother bent over her, and parting the bright locks tenderly from her temples, pressed the pale forehead gently with her lips; then looking up, with tears in her eyes, asked me, in a whisper, if I did not think she looked like Charles.'

"The resemblance was striking, and I said so.

"At this moment, a light step drew my attention to the