to the end of that ball. A piece of paper fell to the ground, which had been the nucleus on which the ball was formed. I stooped to pick it up, and was just about throwing it into the fire, when it caught my mother's eye, and she stretched out her hand and seized it. In a moment she unfolded it before our astonished gaze: it was a bank note of fifty pounds. "O, dear, misjudged Cousin Deborah!" she exclaimed; "this is our Ada's reward in due season. It's just like her kind, queer We were not long in using up all the other balls of darning cotton in that marvellous work box; and such a reward as I found for my industry sure never was met with before or since. Truly, it was a fairy box, and my needle the fairy's wand. No less than ten fifty pound notes were thus brought to light; and my father laughingly declared I had wrought my own dower with my needle. No persuasions could induce him to appropriate the treasure; he said it was my "reward," and belonged to me alone. XIV. THE WRECK. MRS. HEMANS. [Felicia Dorothea Hemans was born in Liverpool, Engiand, September 25, 1794, and died May 12, 1835. Her poetry is remarkable for purity and delicacy of feeling, and a fine sense of the beauty of nature.] ALL night the booming minute gun And mournfully the rising sun Had veiled her topsails to the sand, Booming, heavily sounding or swelling. The queenly ship!- brave hearts had striven, And true ones died with her We saw her mighty cable riven, Like floating gossamer. We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn, For her pale arms a babe had pressed, Billows had dashed o'er that fond breast, Yet not undone the clasp. Her very tresses had been flung To wrap the fair child's form, Where still their wet long streamers clung, *Fretted, corroded or worn by the action of water. [Freeman Hunt is the editor of the Merchant's Magazine, an excellent periodical, published in New York, devoted to the interests of commerce.] "CAN you lend me two thousand dollars to establish myself in a small retail business?" inquired a young man not yet out of his teens, of a middle-aged gentleman, who was poring over his leger in the counting room of one of the largest establishments in Boston. The person addressed turned towards the speaker, and regarding him for a moment with a look of surprise, inquired, "What security can you give me, Mr. Strosser?" "Nothing but my note," replied the young man promptly. "Which I fear would be below par in market,” replied the merchant, smiling. "Perhaps so," said the young man; "but, Mr. Barton, remember that the boy is not the man; the time may come when Hiram Strosser's note will be as readily accepted as that of any other man.” "True, very true," replied Mr. Barton, mildly; "but you know business men seldom lend money without adequate security; otherwise they might soon be reduced to penury.” At this remark the young man's countenance became very pale, and, having observed a silence of several moments, he inquired, in a voice whose tones indicated his deep disappointment, can you?" "Then you cannot accommodate me "Call upon me to-morrow, and I will give you a reply," said Mr. Barton; and the young man retired. Mr. Barton resumed his labors at the desk; but his mind was so much upon the boy and his singular errand, that he could not pursue his task with any correctness; and, after having made several sad blunders, he closed the leger, and took his hat, and went out upon the street. Arriving opposite the store of a wealthy merchant upon Milk Street, he entered the door. "Good morning, Mr. Hawley," said he, approaching the proprietor of the establishment, who was seated at his desk, counting over the profits of the week. "Good morning," replied the merchant, blandly. "Happy to see you. Have a seat? Any news? How's trade? Without noticing these interrogations, Mr. Barton said,— "Young Strosser is desirous of establishing himself in a small retail business in Washington Street, and called this morning to secure of me a loan of two thousand dollars for that purpose." "Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Hawley, evidently surprised at this announcement; "but you do not think of lending that sum do you?" - "I do not know," replied Mr. Barton. "Mr. Strosser is a young man of business talent and strict integrity, and will be likely to succeed in whatever he undertakes." "Perhaps so,” replied Mr. Hawley, doubtfully; "but I am heartily tired of helping to establish these young aspirants for commercial honors." “Have you ever suffered from such a course?" inquired Mr. Barton, at the same time casting a roguish glance at Mr. Hawley. "No," replied the latter, "for I never felt inclined to make an investment of that kind." "Then here is a fine opportunity to do so. It may prove better than stock in the bank. As for myself, I have concluded that, if you will advance him one thousand dollars, I will contribute an equal sum." "Not a single farthing would I advance for such a purpose; and if you make an investment of that kind, I shall consider you very foolish." Mr. Barton was silent for several minutes, and then arose to depart. "If you do not feel disposed to share with me in this enterprise, I shall advance the whole sum myself." Ten years have passed away since the occurrence of the conversation recorded in the preceding dialogue, and Mr. Barton, pale and agitated, is standing at the same desk as when first introduced to the reader's attention. As page after page of his ponderous leger was examined, his despair became deeper and deeper, till at last he exclaimed, 66 'I am ruined utterly ruined!" "How so?" inquired Hiram Strosser, who entered the counting room in season to hear Mr. Barton's remark. "The last European steamer brought news of the failure of the house of Perleh, Jackson, & Co., London, who are indebted to me in the sum of nearly two hundred thousand dollars. News of the failure has become general, and my creditors, panic-stricken, are pressing for payment of their demands. The banks refuse me credit, and I have not the means to meet |