—just what I used to have before father was sick!" I was forced to turn aside to conceal my tears.

— And all this happiness has been purchased for little more than a guinea! How many have I squandered to buy me torture, both of mind and body!— I tore off the back of a letter which I had in my pocket, and seating myself at the table, took my pencil and wrote the following lines to my uncle Timothy:—

"One, who, though at present a stranger to Doctor Levis, is not ignorant of his real benevolence, ventures to appeal to that virtue in behalf of a most wretched, though most worthy family.

"It is to Doctor Levis, as a physician, that this note is addressed. The bearer will further explain its meaning."

I handed the slip of paper to the woman, who had just

finished feeding the invalid. "Take this to "(and

I told her the address). "If there is any physician that can restore your husband to health, it is he.—I would go for him myself; but I am, unhappily, at variance with him, and my application would not be listened to."

"God knows I wish to thank you, sir," said the woman; "but 1 can't!"—and she burst into tears.

"I am already more than thanked." I spoke from the

heart. "But stay! you must not go at this late hour"

(and my caution was not idle; for the woman was still young, and her emaciated features showed the remains of beauty,)—it will be only needlessly exposing yourself; for I am confident your husband is in no immediate danger."

"O, I must go !—there is no risk—no one would harm such a poor being as me."

"Sarah, you must not—you shall not go!" cried the sick man, exerting his feeble voice. His wife threw on her hood, and rushed from the house as though she feared to be prevented.

"God make me worthy of such goodness!" exclaimed the husband, and fainted from weakness.

I poured some wine into the cup, which stood conveniently upon the chest, and bathed his face and temples with it, standing in such a position as to prevent the children's seeing the situation of their parent. With some difficulty he was recovered. He attempted to speak. "Hush!" I said, gently placing my hand upon his mouth, "I know all you would say. Be silent, now, for my sake. A day may come when I shall need a like service to that I now render you, and you may have it in your power to make me an ample return."—I little knew how nearly I was prophecying then.

"God forbid that you should ever need it!" said the sick man; "God will forbid it; he cannot suffer one who is so kind to me to need such help from others—one too so very young." Poor man! he diH not know that this was the one bright spot in a life where all the rest was darkness, or without polish.

"Well, do one thing to oblige me at present:—let me serve you without thanks." And, leaving him, I went to the hearth, broke the candle-box into small pieces, made little Dick kindle them, and placed upon them the iron pot, into which I put some water that he brought me from the cupboard. I then set my little assistant, who was delighted with his office, to watch the water, bidding him tell me when it should boil, that I might stir in it some of the oatmeal I had bought. Returning to the sick man, who all the time had entreated me to desist, "You must let me act," I said, "as your nurse, till your wife returns. This gruel, with the addition of a little of that good wine, and some sugar, you will find will do you more service than all the medicines in the world; and I am much deceived if Doctor Levis does not tell you so too."

The man sobbed, oppressed by his emotions. "Shall I not know at least the name of my benefactor 1"

"My dear sir, that can be of no importance whatever. It must satisfy you, that I esteem myself fortunate in being ,he means of procuring you the attentions of a truly honest physician—one, in whom you may place the most implicit confidence.” “Let me then study your features. Them I would never forget.” For the rest of the time, until the return of his wife, I sought to divert the invalid's thoughts from his obligations to me—a subject which, however agreeable to the one who spoke of them, was sufficiently unpleasant to him who was forced to be the listener. I talked to him of his health, flattered him with the hopes of a speedy recovery, and drew many bright pictures of the future, when he should be reinstated in the possession of his former comforts, till I actually produced a very sensible change in his spirits. - . In about a quarter of an hour, the woman returned. My uncle Timothy was with her.—The doctor's eyes instantly met mine, and he started back in complete amaze. ment. I had, however, no desire to observe what would be his subsequent behaviour; so, as the children, the moment they saw him, began to cry out “Here’s the doctor, father here's the doctor —Now, dear father, you'll get well again!” and press around him, I managed to escape in the confusion, first slipping beneath the bible a note for £50—the only money I had left about me, with the exception of a few loose shillings.

That night, I slept—as I never had slept before.—But the next night !—and the next

“O, DoN'T go yet, George!—don't go yet, Mr. Feinton ; we can have a game at something before we part, for it's but little over ten o’clock, and I know my friend Jerry loves play.” This was said by the Hon. Mr. Bonmot, as Lord Findue was preparing to follow Mr. Feinton, the last of the party which I had invited to meet my two new acquaintances. What could I say? “Mr. Bonmot is right, gentlemen— I cannot think of letting you go so soon. You must turn back, Feinton—O, I insist upon it!—My lord, I will not suffer you to leave us.” It had been the same, were I ever so tired of my company. Such is the advantage of those pests of society—your affable gentlemen, who make themselves at home in every house and on every occasion. The gentlemen suffered themselves to be persuaded, and laid down their hats; and the door was closed. “Now gentlemen, what will you play ? Shall we adjourn to the billiard-room ?” - “No” roared my friend of a day, constituting himself master of ceremonies, “not billiards—we have enough of them every day. Let us be vulgar for once, and play cards. We are just four—Whist for me!”

"Well, my friends, what say you to Mr. Bonmot's proposal?"

"I have no partiality for any particular game; I therefore vote with Mr. Bonmot," said Feinton.

"The choice of my friends is always mine," said Lord Findue.

"Then cards it is. John, bring us cards, and some more wine."

"No wine for me, I beg of you!" cried Bonmot; "I have already drunk more than I ought. I will join you in your cups; but it must be with a cup of something else."

"Well—what shall it be ?—Any thing that can be had you know is at your service, Mr. Bonmot."

"A cup of tea, then."

"A cup of tea?" I exclaimed, with a laugh.

"A cup of tea?" echoed Feinton—but in a tone of .strong distrust—which, though it struck my ear, I did not however particularly notice at the time. Lord Findue remained cold and silent as usual.

"O yes, a cup of tea," said Bonmot smiling. "Why, Jerry, you seem to think it odd I should prefer tea to wine; but wine, man, makes my head ache, and tea refreshes me. George well knows what violence I did myself in drinking so freely at table, in order to avoid the appearance of singularity: now we are alone, I mean to consult my comfort. Give me nothing but tea, my friends; you shall find I can be as merry as the best of you, though you wine it ever so much. Why, I can match Dr. Johnson himself!*