VOL. LXIII. HE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER. bIISHID ITUT TUESDAY, AT HO. 8 KORTH SUEZ STRUT. BY GEO. SANDERSON. TERMS B DBSORIPTios. —Two Dollars pel- annum, payable in ad ' vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unless at tbe option of the Editor. AdvzrtiBU*htB.—Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lines,) will be inserted three times for one . dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional Inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Job Printing—Snch as HaDd Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac., Ac., executed with accuracy and on • the shortest notice. DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN, BY W. G. CLARK. Young mother, he is gone! His dimpled cheek no more will touch thy breast; No more the music-tone Float from his lips to thine all fondly pressed; His smile and happy laugh aie lost to thee— Earth must his mother and his pillow be. flis was tbe morning-hour; And he hath passed in beauty from the day, A bud—not yet a flower; Torn in its sweetness from the parent spray, The death-wind swept him to his soft repose, As frost in spring-time blights tho early rose. Never oij earth again Will his rich accents charm the listening ear, Like some ASolian strain, Breathing at even-tide serene and dear; His voice is choked in dust, and on his eyes The unbroken seal of peaoe and silence lies. And from the yearning heart, Whose inmost core was warm with love for him, A gladness must depart, And those kind ,-yes with many tears be dim ; While lonely memories, an unoeasing train, Will turn the raptures of the past to pain. - Yet mourner! while the day Rolls like the darkness of a funeral by, And hope forbids one ray To stream athwart the grief-discolored sky, There breaks upon thy sorrow’s evening gloom A trembling lustre from beyond the tomb. ’Tis from tbe better land! There, bathed in radiance that around them springs, Thy loved one’s wings expand, As with the choiring cherubim he sings; And all the glory of that God can see Who said on earth to children, (( Come to mo.” Mother ! thy child is blest: And though his presence may be lost to thee, ' And vacant leave thy breast, And missed a sweet load from the parent knee; Though tones familiar from thy oar have passed, Thon’ll meet thy first-born with his Lord at last. LYING, BY TOM MOORE. 1 do confess, in many a sigh, My lips have breathed you many a lie; And who, with such delights in view, Would lose them, for a lie or two ? Nay,—look not thus, with brow reproving ; Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving. If half wo tell the girls were true, If half we swear to think and do, Were aught but lying’s bright illusion, This world would be in strange confusion. If ladies’ eyes, were, every one, As lovers swear, a radiant sun, Astronomy mast leave the skies, To learn her lore in ladies’ eyes. Oh/ no—believe me, lovely girl, When nature turns your teeth to pearl, Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, Your amber locks to golden wire, Then, only then, can Heaven decree, That you should live for only me, Or I for you, as night and morn, We’ve swearing kiss’d, and kissing sworn. And now, my gentle hint 9 to clear, For once I’ll tell you truth, my dear. Whenever you may chance to meet Some loving youth, whose love is sweet, Long as you’re false and he believes you, Long as you trust and he deceives you, So long as the blissful bond endures, And while he lies, his heart is yours: But, oh! you’ve wholly lost the youth The instant that he tells you truth. Why Widow Jenkens Didn’t Marry Dr. Wells. Why didn’t the Widow Jenkens marry Dr. Wells ? That was the exciting subject of debate before the Gossiptown ‘ Ladies’ Mutual improvement Widows’ Relief Society,’ at one of their weekly meetings. Now, Dr. Wells had been very attentive to Mrs. Jenkens for a number of months. He invariably walked home with her from ohurch, had escorted her to a number of pio-nios, and in many ways had evinced his partiality. As for the young and pretty widow, she did not appear to be at all displeased with these attentions ; on the contrary, she received them with evident pleasure ; so their marriage was considered a settled thing by the inhabitants of Gos siptown in general, and the members of the Ladies’ Mutual Improvement and Widows’ Relief Society,’ in particular. So when they learned that he had sud denly disappeared, without telling them , where he was going, what he was going for, when he was coming baok, &c., &0., all of which particulars they had an undis puted right to know, and without bidding any of them good bye, their astonishment and indignation were intense. . Strange and conflicting were their con jectures, and various were the rumors that were thereby set afloat. Some said that he had been arrested for high treason, some that he was a spy from the Confederate army, while others did not hesitate to say that he was & bigamist,one of those wander ing gentry who go from town to town, deceiving with their perfidious wiles the susoeptible hearts of that confiding sex whose gullibility has beoome proverbial. But finally, after due deliberation and oareful consideration of all the pros and cons, the whys and wherefores, by the di rectors of the above mentioned society, to wit:—Miss Dorothy Wormwood, Miss Lovetalk, Mrs. Pickflaw and Mrs. Make fuss—they came to the unanimous conclu sion, ‘that his mysterious disappearance was occasioned by the rejection of Dr. Wells by 'the Widow Jenkins, for some cause to them unknown, but supposed to be some terrible orime committed by the aforesaid Dootor, and discovered by the afores .id Widow ; and that the aforesaid .gentleman had left Gossiptown clandes tinely to his discomfiture and avoid the shame of a disclosure.’ Indeed, Miss Lovetalk testified «that one day, as she was walking past the Wid ■pw’s house, she saw the Dootor and Mrs. Jenkins together in the garden, and dis tinctly heard the latter tell the former, j ‘ that she should oertainly expose his con- ! duot.’ And that the Dootor replied, ! ‘ that he hoped she wouldn’t, as it would be the ruin of him.’ Upon which the •Widow gave a sort of derisive laugh.’ - ' Whereupon, Mrs. Piokflaw shook her bead, and said, ‘ thatshe didn’t know what stronger proof they wanted than that. For her part she was free to own that she never did like Dr. Wells. She knew he was a great favorite with some folks, but his . smooth, oily way didn’t go down with her ! She never had said anything, beoause she didn’t wish to injure the young man’s prospects, but it had long been her private opinion that be was nothing but a wolf in . cheep’s olothing! Mothers ought to be very .careful,’ she added, drawing herself up with dignity, ‘with whom they allow their •daughters to associate. I took an early opportunity to warn mj daughters against him; and it is very gratifying to m e to vefleot that they had the wisdom to profit bythq advice.’ [Mem, When Dr. Wells .first came to Goßsiptqwn, this.wise and , prudent, matron was: very assiduous in her attentions, using every art in her power to > entrap him into a marriege with one of her five unmarried daughters. “ And the Widow Jenkons is of the same piece, I’m of the opinion,’ said the amiable Miss Dorothy Wormwood, ‘ The airs that woman puts on are perfectly ridic ulous. I should think after this that she’d hold her head a little lower.’ ‘ I should think so, too,’ chimed in the charitable Mrs. Makefiias. < I guess, if the truth was known, it would be found ont that she’s no better than she ought to be. To my certain knowledge,she Fas been al together too free, not only with Dr. Wells, but with other gentlemen I oould mention. For my part, 1 should be glad if her conduct could be considered only in the light of imprudence.’ ‘ It seems that she wasn’t imprudent enough to marry Dr. Wells,’ remarked Miss Lovetalk; • though one oould see, with half an eye, that she was over head and ears in love with him. What oould have been the reason V This was re-eohoed by the company, while deep perplexity sat upon all counte nances. And this brings us back to the com mencement of our story. Why didn’t the Widow Jenkens marry Dr. Wells 1 It was clear to these astute minds, that the Widow herself was the only person who oould settle this vexed question. But with all her kindness of heart and affabil ity, there was a gentle dignity in this lady’s manner that prevented any attempts at familiarity, so no one was bold enongh to ask her point blank, and hints and in sinuations she either could not, or would not understand. Miss Lovetalk once ventured to ask, ‘ If she expeoted to hear from the Doctor V To which she received a decided negative. And they had each, respectively, express ed their astonishment at his sudden disap pearance, in the hope of obtaining some clue to the mystery, but the Widow listen ed in grave silence, giving them no inti mation, by word or by look, that she knew any more about it than they ; so they were completely baffled. ‘ There is Hattie Burns going by,’ said Mrs. Wormwood, suddenly, as she happen ed to glance out of the window, ‘ I’ll war rant she knows something about it, if she was only a mind to tell; she is over to the Widow’s more’n half the time.’ I shouldn’t wonder if she did, exclaimed Miss Lovetalk, ‘ I mean to call her in.’ Hattie was oalled in accordingly; and no important witness ever underwent a sharper eross-qnestioning at the most in genious criminal lawyer thanjdid the aston ished girl before this self-constituted ‘ Court of Inquiry.’ But they elioited nothing of importance. Hattie solemny declared “ that she hadn’t heard Mrs. Jenkens mention the Dootor’s name, though she had thought she seemed more sober than usual since he went away.’ At last by the dint of tea and flattery, with whiok they plied her liberally, Hattie, who was but a young, giddy girl, and not a little elated at the idea of being a person of much importance, was induoed to promise that she would ask Mrs. Jenkens why she refnsed Dr. Wells, for that she had refused him they were fully convinced, and duly report her reply. Hattie had hardly left the house before she heartly repented of the promise that she had so thoughtlessly made, but as she had given her word she determined to redeem it. So the next morning she set out upon her errand. The nearer she approached the house, the more unpleasant she felt; for she was a sensible, though impulsive girl, and could not but feel, upon reflection, that this inquiry was impertinent, and one which their intimacy, open and unrestrain ed as it was, gave her no right to make. When she reached the house, the cloud upon her usually sunny brow and the un wonted constraint of her manner, could not fail to be noticed by Mrs. Jenkins, who, though but a 'few years her senior, *felt a motherly interest in the young girl, who was an orphan. ‘ What ails you, Hattie V she inquired kindly ; ‘ are you sick ?’ ‘ No—yes,’ stammered poor Hattie, who began to feel what little courage she had been able to muster ooaing out of the end of her fingers ; ‘ that is, I don’t feel very well. The faot is,’ she added desperately, ‘ I’ve got into a scrape.’ The kind hearted woman looked a little anxious, for she was well acquainted with Hattie’s impulsive disposition, but she said quietly : ‘ And you have oome to ask me help you out of it V * ‘ Yes. And if you only will, my dear Mrs. Jenkins, I promise you that I will never get into suoh another.’ ‘ You may be sure that I will do the best that I can for you, Hattie, but you mußt tell me what it is.’ ‘Well, the ‘society ladies’ yesterday made me promise to ask you a question, a very impertinent one, I am sure you will say, when you have heard it.’ Mrs. Jenkins’ countenance cleared.— ‘ Ib that all, you silly child 1’ she said.— ‘ Why, I thought it was something terrible. But do, pray, tell me what the question is |; lam very curious to know.’ ' ‘ They want to know,’ said Hattie, hes itatingly, ‘ why you didn’t marry Dootor Wells? They will have it he has turned out some terrible character, a pirate, a robber, to say the least; and that you have found it out, and dismissed him.’ Mrs. Jenkins’ expressive countenance, aB Bhe heard this, underwent vaaious chan ges ; . first she looked astonished, then in dignant, then she colored and then smiled. ‘ I hope you are not angry,’ said Hattie, in some trepidation, as Mrs. Jenkins made no Teply. ‘ I promised to ask you, sol thought I must. But you needn’t tell me; indeed, I hope you won’t. I don’t see why it should be any of their business, and I’m sure it’s none of mine.’ .‘ l am not in the least angry with you, Hattie,’ said the Widow, smiling. ‘ Though I should advise you not to be so hasty, another time, in giving your promise, inas much as this occasioned you so muoh un easiness. You may tell these ladies that il invite them to take tea at my house to morrow afternoon, and that I will then and there answer that important question, I trust to their, entire satisfaction. You may come too, Hattie,’ she added, as the ypung girl, caught up, her hat, preparatory to ma king a hasty exit. This message was received by the aforo saitTladies withiningled surprise and self congratulation. With surprise, beoause Mrg. Jenkins;bftd> hithertpjistood steadily aloof .being so nnohir itablemtd declare-ifctobe nothings but a “THAT OOUItTEY IS THX HOST PaOSPISOUB WHXEX LABOB OOWAHDS THB GBBATXST BIWABD.”—BUOHAHAIt. . 7dllV ~ LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 21, 1862. ‘ sohool for soandal,’ and that it accom plished more mischief than good. With self congratnlation, beeanse they felt, to nse Miss Wormwood’s felioitoos expression ‘ that something was coming now that would astonish some folks.’ The next day, at the appointed hour, found them all quietly seated in Mrs. Jen kins’ piehsant little parlor. Mrs. Jenkins reeeived them with her usual affability. Indeed, she was more than usually sociable, and seemed to be particularly desirous of making her guests feel perfectly at home. Bat there was a certain constraint in their manner, bat es pecially in their tongues which were more than usually quiet, and their minds seemed to be solemnly impressed with the impor tant disolosure that was about to be made. Every time their hostess opened her month to speek, all eyes were fixed upon her in eager expectancy, and as there fell from them some casual remark, as far as possible from the subjeot of their thoughts, their disappointment was evident. But the Widow seemed to be qnite uncon scions of all this. She looked as 000 l and comfortable in her simple white muslin, laughed as gaily and chatted as cheerfully as though there was no Buch person as Dr. Wells in existence, and nothing in the mystery of his disappearance that she was expeoted to clear up. The afternoon wore slowly away, and Mrs. Jenkens led her guests out to the supper table, whose bouutifully spread board seemed to have a benign effect upon those for whom it was provided. And as they seated themselves around it, and sipped the fragrant neotar, vulgarly oalled tea, their hearts began to expand under its genial influence, and they all commenced with one accord, to praise the light and crisp biscuits, the spicy loaf cakes, the delicious custards and preserves, &c., &c., which they severally declared were the best they had ever tasted. All of which were made by the small white hands of their hostess, who was a notable little housekeeper, and though she kept one servant, generally spent part of eaoh morning in the kitchen. The pretty Widow bore the honors very meekly ; though she did not, in aooordanoe with a time-honored custom, declare, < that there was nothing on the table fit to eat, and that she was really afraid that none of them would be able to make out a supper.’ But the supper, like all sublunary joys came to an end at last, and the whole par ty adjourned to the parlor. As soon as they had seated themselves, deep silence reigned, for they perceived by the Widow’s look and manner that she was about to speak. This time Mrs. Jenkens did not disap point them. ‘ Ladies,’ she said, in a tone that instantly secured attention, ‘ I have understood that you are all very anxious to know why I haven’t married Dr. Wells. Have I been correctly informed V ‘ Yes, my dear Mrs. Jenkens,’ said Miss Dorothy Wormwood, who being president of the ‘ society,’ and accustomed to speak ing in public,’ volunteered to beoome spokesman for the rest, I we are. Not from motives of curiosity, oh no ; we are above such feeling, but because we are anxious that the villain should be un masked who has so basely deceived us. That in ease he should return, whioh God forbid, he should not be allowed to dese crate with his unholy presence our virtuous and peaceful homes !’ Having given vent to this burst of elo quence, the amiable spinster settled baok into her chair, and subsided into a solemn silence, whose dignity struggled unsuccess fully with the impatience distinctly visible in every glanoe of the keen, restless eyes, and in each line of the sharp angular face. Mrs. Jenkens continued : ‘ In order that I may relieve the disinterested, and highly oommendable anxiety which hassodistraot ed your minds for some weeks past, and silenoe the many rumors to which it has given rise, I have concluded to answer that important question, to the best of my ability, upon two conditions. The first one is that the secret which I shall unfold to you be strictly confined to your own bosoms!’ This was said with a look and tone of great solemnity, and as the reader will readily imagine, it produced a oorrespond ihg degree of curiosity and excitement in those who heard it. They all, individually and oolleotively, began immediately to deolare, ‘ that they would never breathe a syllable of it to any living being!’ Miss Wormwood heroioally adding, ‘ No, not if she was to be stretohed upon the rack !’ which, as there was little danger of the ooourrenoe of that rather unpleasant alternative, seemed to be some what superfluous. ‘My other condition,’ resumed Mrs. Jenkens, ‘is that none of you asX me another question concerning it.’ This last condition was harder to be complied with ; but as the Widow deolined to proceed without it, they gave their con sent to that also. ‘Then, ladies,’ said Mrs. Jenkens, speaking slowly and distinctly, ‘ I will in form you that the reason why I haven’t married Dr. Wells, is—because he has never asked me /’ So completely absorbed were the ladies in this anxiously expected revelation, they had not observed that they had an addi tion to their numbers, in the form of a tall, fine-looking gentleman, who had stood for the last few moments upon the thresh bold of the half-opened door, evidently uncertain as to whether he had better ad vance or retreat. Neither did the widow observe it, until, at the conclusion of her sentence, she raised her eyes, and met the gaze of the large and handsome pair that were fixed upon her countenance, in which there was a singular blending of inirthful ness and humor. The consciousness that he had heard what she had said, sent the warm blood to her cheeks, but she did not lose, other wise, the quiet self-possession that characterized her usual manner. Dr. Wells, for it was he, had already received an inkling of the rumors that were afloat concerning, him, so he was at no loss to understand the present state of affairs. But without appearing to notice the evident, consternation of the company at his unexpected entrance, he turned to the Widow, and said quietly, ‘ Good eve ning Mrs. Jenkens. 1 rang twice at the door, but receiving no attention, and hear ing the sound of voioes within, I ventured to enter unannounced;’ :r; : • Then, without waiting for ; . a reply, he turned to the rest of the company, and in clining his, bead, remarked, ‘I itelieve tjUt I owe an apology to some of my good friends hero for my abrupt departure. But the sudden and alarming illness of a near relative will prove, I am confident, to suoh kind and charitable hearts a sufficient excuse.’ A deep silence followed these words, whioh was broken by Miss Dorothy Worm wood, who 'rising from her seat, said, ‘ That it was getting dark, and she guessed she would have to be going.’ Whereupon a number of others started up declaring, that they had no idea it was so late ! So, one by one, they stole ont, confusion upon their oountenanoes, and shame and diseomfitnre in their hearts, leaving the Dootor and the Widow to themselves. Now, we wonld not have the reader sup pose for a moment, that we would be guilty of such a breach of confidence as to relate the conversation that followed; besides, we are well aware, though the most delight ful thing imaginable to the parties them selves, that it is sufficiently flat and stupid to everybody else, especially when put upon paper. But this we may safely say, that if the Widow Jenkens didn’t marry Dr. Wells, it wasn't because he didn't ask her! Autobiography of a Lawyer. I believe I started life under the aus pices of my father’s aunt, Deborah, a maiden lady of sixty-fonr, who, in the place of the father and mother, whom I never saw, alternately petted me and soolded me as long as she was able. I escaped from both when eleven years old by running away, and although she seat me innumera ble messages when she discovered my whereabouts, to return to her, and be sent to school and fitted for college, I unduti fully refused ever to go near her again. I had hired out with a small farmer to do his ‘ ohores’. for my board and clothes, and I staid three years, at the end of which time my roving propensities moved me to run off from him. I had made my arrange ments, and was even mounted on the top of the Reading stage, when who should oome into the tavern yard but the farmer. ‘ Where arc you going, boy V he called out in a hard and severe tone. ‘ To Boston, sir.’ ‘ To Boston !’ 1 cannot desoribe the manner in whioh he said this ; hut it woke up all the mem ories of a flogging which left sears—yet I have not time to tell you how many more than the immortal Fubos had. He was a course, profane man, and he launohed out into a strain of abuse whioh would have made my blood chill if I had been afraid of him, and bade me instantly go home. ‘ Thank yon, sir,’ I said, ‘ lam engaged to somebody else.’ At this moment the stage started. He ordered the driver to stop and let me down : but he drove on, and I am almost ashamed to record that I made significant gesture with my thumb and finger upon my very decent Roman nose, and calling out : • Good by, sir, you shall hear from me some day.’ I went off in the exultant triumph of freedom. I was delighted with the fine prospect whioh I enjoyed in my elevated seat. The driver was very kind to me, refusing my money for the whole journey, and offering to find me a stopping place in the city. At that time there was a very old house in Howard-street, sinoe demolished, in whioh a Mr Jones kept boarders for a number of years. Here he stopped the stage for me to get down. ‘ What shall I do, driver V I asked. ‘ Just ring that bell, my lad,’ he answer ed, ‘ and somebody will come and let you in.’ I looked up at the top of the door. I don’t see any bell, sir,’ I said timidly. The man burst into a loud laugh. ‘ Pull that knob, greeny,’ he said ; and straightway I pulled it again and again, until Mr. Jones, a queer looking fellow, with one leg and a dilapidated eye, came to the door and looked daggers out of his remaining orb of vision, upon the luckless weight who had broken his bell wire. ‘ Let that youngster stay with you and mamma Jones till I come to supper,’ said the still laughing driver ; and I staid. Mamma Jones was a lady who would have made a fine companion for Daniel Lambert. Sheltered beneath her capacious wings, I could bid defianoe to little Mr. Jones, who dared not attack anything that his wife might take a fancy for petting. This knowledge, together with the daily sight of my old friend the driver, kept me happy through the winter. I scoured knives, and performed quite a series of similar dignified labors every morning ; but when boys of my age were around, 1 some times thought, while looking at their good and respeotable olothing, that it would not have been a bad plan for me to have ac cepted Aunt Deborah’s offer of Bending me to oollege. An opportunity offering of going to sea, I prepared to go, despite the tears and en treaties of the fat lady. When she saw I was determined, she provided me with everything needful for a voyage, hugged me to her capacious heart, and bade me God speed. Jones, who was so angry be cause I staid there, was still more so when I went away—and in his wife’s absenoe taunted me of my new olothes, which he more than half suspected came from her, although they passed as the gift of the stage driver. The servants were assembled to see me go away, and their hearty ‘ Good by, Sam! —a safe return to you, old fellow ?’ was probably more sincere than nine-tenths of all the good wishes that have been express ed for me since that time. I shall say but little about my sea life. It did not answer my expectations at all. I never passed a day without ; intolerable seasickness, and being a light delioate boy, the captain advised me, as a friend, to stay in future upon land. Going on shore, the mate stepped forward and took my hand, saying : ‘ Well, Sam, you have killed a sailor, af ter all!’ I did not then know the meaning of this phrase, but when I got back to the old house in Howard-street, my friend, the driver, and from him I got an explanation of the term. I could not go back to the kitchen to work again after my voyage, so I looked diligently for some employment. An ad vertisement in the paper for a printer’s boy caught my eye, and I applied and was received. Hero I was quite happy. I made myself a favorite in : the : office, and fortunately sUodeeded in learning the bnsi tf&sso that my scrvieesvWould command a fur remnneration. :.,; At twenty-one I married Susan Russell, the daughter of my employer. lam thus brief in recording this, beeanse by no alohemy whatever could 1 convert the old fashioned, matter-of-faot liking for each other andsnbsequentnnion fate to anything like romance. The whole might be oom pressed into a single sentenoe : I liked her and married her when I found she liked me. My description of my new home will be quite as brief. We took two rooms, fur nished them comfortably, and Snsan kept them shining like silver the whole year ronnd. If ever i enjoyed true, real unre mitted happiness, without care or anxiety, or fear for the future, it was in those days. What peaoe we enjoyed! Our two eldest ohildren were born there; and then our limits Beemed too small; but it was real pain to both of ns to move from the abode whioh had been the scene of so many calm and peaceful hours. We removed to a oottage in the suburbs of Boston; not those miniature eities whioh now rise up beside the veritable Trimouu tain, but a small and obscure village, sinoe risen to the size and importanoe it deserves. Abont the time that we removed and got quietly settled, a very important law oase was on the docket, and when it came on we were very busy printing the reports of the trial as it progressed. I became immense ly absorbed in it, not so muoh from sym pathy with the parties oonoerned as from feelings that, were 1 acquainted with the technicalities of the law, I could seize npou many points of importance whioh I believed the attorneys overlooked altogether, This idea grew stronger and stronger upon my mind. I had aocess to law books whioh were in my employer’s sanctum, and pored over them sometimes all night long. Mr. Russell had been bred to the law, but had relinquished his profession for that of an editor some years before the birth of my wife. I frankly stated to him my wishes in regard to fitting myself for the bar. He first laughed at me, then seriously tried to dissuade me from attempting it. Opposition only strengthened my purpose, and I entered the office of an eminent law yer, who overlooked deficiencies in some respects, in consideration, as he was pleased to term it, of the talent and acumen which my replies to his question displayed. I now wrote for the journal I had been accustomed to print, and with suoh secresy Mr. Bussell did not find out who his new contributor was. He would often wonder, in my presenoe, who it conld be, and des cribe to me a degree of the talent and brilliancy of expression as I had hardly hoped to deserve. Ho often, too, imputed my articles to , and , then the two leading writers of the day, and express his opinion that they would not remain incog, a great while. The flattery pleased me, but I did not show any vanity to lead me into betraying myself. Through a third party 1 received a larger compensation for my labors than I should have had my wise father-in-law had the least suspicion who his correspondent was. I studied hard, and had at length the inexpressible satisfaction of being admitted to the Suffolk bar. I took an office with another young lawyer, in order to reduoe our expenses, and I waited anxiously for the brief period what should be offered. Poor Susan ! My heart aohes at the re collection of certain privations t 6 which with angel sweetness, she submitted at this period, in order that I might appear respec table. My contributions to various literary journals barely gave us the means of sus tenance, and I had so nearly offended Mr. Russell by slighting his advioe, that I did not dare to apply to him for any assistance. One day in passing from our suburban residence to the city, I met my old land lady, Mrs. Jones. She looked at me hard and 1 returned it. There was no mistaking that good, honest countenance and ex pansive form, even when dressed as it was in deep mourning. A widow’s ample veil hung over the back of her head, and nearly swept the street. The recognition was mutual, and the old lady’s rapture at find ing me was almost too strong for ont-door exhibition. She told me of Jones’ death ; of their removing to the country when the old house in Howard street was torn down. ‘ And now,’ she said, ‘ I am alone in the world.’ ‘ Come and live w\th me,’ were my first words. 1 You gave me a home when I was a lone ohild.’ I stopped, for the though passed back upon me that I was poor and unable to maintain even my own family. A strange smile flitted over the faoe my friend, while she inquired of my situation. I told her, and described my wife and ohildren. ‘ I will go to you, for I oan help your wife enough to pay my board.’ I was almost displeased at what I had done when I considered the immense ap petite which 1 had inconsiderately offered to supply, and whioh I well remembered of old. But I dung to my bargain, and begged her to oome with me immediately. ‘ You will find me in rather close quar ters,’ 1 said, ‘ but you shall oome and be welcome.’ We agreed that she should be there on Monday, and I went home to Susan, whom 1 met with rather an embarrassed air. She looked at the matter more philosophically than I had ezpeoted, and prepared her best ohamber for Mrs. Jones’ reception, heroi cally oarrying in many little conveniences of whioh we had no duplicates. My relation of Mrs. Jones’ former kind ness to me, and my description of her pres ent lonely and widowed Btate, made Susan shed tears. She promised to do everything in her power for the forlorn woman, who she now thought would be thrown upon me for maintenance, and herself for companion ship. Mrs. Jones’ arrived on Monday morning, oarpet-bag in hand, and followed by a hand oart, bearing her old-fashioned and some what dilapidated hair trunk. We received her kindly, and she seemed pleased and happy, when she sat down to Susan’s simple but excellent dinner. The ohildren were attentive, and kept passing food to the new guest. •• , A fortnight passed away and we began to fed that we could scarcely do without Mrs. Jones. She was invaluable as an assistant to Susan, and marketing for us, her servioes were, beyond all praise. We gave her ,our slender purse every morning, as she thought she. could do tetter with it than we could—and it was perfectly amaz ing to see the loads iof provisions and the superior quality of the same whioh she obtained. , Susan ’ and i began to think we; had been 1 forfreir; jmjfj onases. So when our wardrobe imperatively oalled for additions, Mrs. Jones wonld: go out with the money for a six-penny print, and return with something really-hand some and valuable for my wife and a nice remnant for Katy, and then ske would sit down and make them both up, with all the skill of an experienced mantna-maker. Susan handed me some bills one day, that she said were left there by the collec tors, inoluding one for our rent, and one for the last snit of clothes whioh 1 had been unwillingly foroed to bny, in order to keep np a respeotable appearanoe. My face, I fanoy, fell some degrees, for 1 had no money to pay them. Mrs. Jones was bnstling around the dinner table, and she said, rather sadly, that she felt that she onght not to be living npon us, and perhaps she had better go away. ‘ Never mind, my good friend !’ said I, and ‘ Never,’ uttered Snsy. I assured her that 1 would not listen to her leaving us—that I trusted very soon to get business, and that come to us what would she our last loaf. The good old soul hugged both at onoe; and then setting her cap and wiping her eyes, she went quietly baok to her work. After diuner she went out, bat we reiterated the injunction that she should not seek another home as long as she could put up with ours. 1 called around in the evening at the varions places from whence I had reoeived the bills. To my utter surprise the an swer was that they had been settled. I inquired by whom, but no one could reool leot. They were all canoelled on the various books. I was thoroughly amazed, for I knew of no one bnt Mr. Russell who could do it for me, and I hardly believed it of him. Susy was as surprised as myself; but she rather inolined to the belief that it was her father, so J quietly let her indulge in the pleasant belief. We got throagh the summer, but the winter was ooming on, and I actually trem bled at its approach. Industrious as I was —prudent as Susy had ever been—we oould not hope to go.through the oold seasons without both suffering and toil, and with debt supperadded. I had been in the office all one gloomy November day, anxiously doubting whether I should go baok to printing again. I con sidered the whys and wherefores, oounting the cost of living, and could not find that .the ohange wonld benefit me a single sou. I was toiling unremittingly now, and should have to do so if I returned to print ing, and with no more pay. I became heartily discouraged. If I had been alone in the world I oould have patiently borne it. Suffering and privation brought no terror to me, but the thought of those at home unmanned me ; and the darker the prospect, the more I shrank from allowing Mrs. Jones to feel that she was a .burden. No, oome what wonld, the, good old soul should not be removed from the circle in whioh she seemed to have placed all her happiness. She should remain , if we were reduoed to beggary, we would beg for her, too. I started up and paced the offioe impa tiently. It may seem strange that a strong healthy man should be so powerless, but so it was. I had intended sending fuel home, but was disappointed in receiving money, and I now dreaded that there was a darkness on the hearth at home. I was just looking when a boy oame to me with a folded paper. It read thus : ‘ Come to No.—, Tremont-street, about six o’clock.’ I saw no alternative but to go. The boy had gone, so I had no excuse. I walked over the damp leaves which the November blast had that very hoar shaken from the trees. I went over the ground rapidly, for I panted to learn the errand and be away. I rang at the number designated. It was a neat brick honse, with substantial stops, a well lighted vestibule with glass doors, and I could see the whole front was lighted with gas. I heard little feet scampering through the hall, bat as the doors were of ground glass, could see nothing. A servant came to the door and waited on me to a handsome drawing-room with plain but good furniture. There was no plate on the outer door, so 1 could not even tell the name of the person wishing to see me. 1 was standing by the ohimney-piece, when a little ohild ran into the room. It was so like little Katty that I would have oalled her so had not the pretty embroider ed robe and silk apron looked so differently from our children’s plain clothes. But another little head was peeping through the open door, and that was little Charlie, only for the soarlet frock and neat gaiters, and then the two made a long rush over the floor and ran into my arms, while slowly and majestically sweeping in her ample orapes and bombazines, eame portly Mrs. Jones, and behind her Susy, smiling and blushing like the dawn. I felt a sort of faintness, and passed my hand across my eyes, to be sure I was awake. Susy laid her hand on myshoul der. ‘ You owe it to your kind friend here,’ said she gently. ‘ She has been trying you very deeply.’ ‘ Trying me V I repeated. ‘ Yes, my good friend,’ said Mrs. Jones, ‘1 was rich, and had none but selfish and interested people about me, who wanted