The Maiden's Error

THE story of Julia Forrester is but a revelation of what occursevery day. I draw aside the veil for a moment, would that some onemight gaze with trembling on the picture, and be saved!

The father of Julia had served an apprenticeship to the tanning andcurrying business. He had been taken when an orphan boy of twelveyears old, by a man in this trade, and raised by him, without any ofthe benefits of education. At twenty-one he could read and write alittle, but had no taste for improving his mind. His master, beingwell pleased with him for his industry and sobriety, offered him asmall interest in his business, shortly after he was free, whichsoon enabled him to marry, and settle himself in life.

His new companion was the daughter of a reduced tradesman; she hadhigh notions of gentility, but possessed more vanity and love ofadmiration than good sense. Neither of them could comprehend thetrue relation of parents. If they fed their children well, clothedthem well, and sent them to the most reputable schools, theyimagined that they had, in part, discharged their duty; and, wholly,when they had obtained good-looking and well-dressed husbands fortheir daughters. This may be a little exaggerated; but such aninference might readily have been drawn by one who attentivelyconsidered their actions.

I shall not spend further time in considering their characters.Their counterpart may be found in every street, and in everyneighbourhood. The curious student of human nature can study them atwill. Julia Forrester was the child of such parents. When she wasfifteen, they were in easy circumstances. But at that criticalperiod of their daughter's life, they were ignorant of human nature,and entirely unskilled in the means of detecting false pretension,or discovering true merit.

Indeed, they were much more ready to consider the former as true,and the latter as false. The unpretending modesty of real worth theygenerally mistook for imbecility, or a consciousness of questionablepoints of character; while bold-faced assurance was thought to be anopen exhibition of manliness--the free, undisguised manner of thosewho had nothing to conceal.

It is rarely that a girl of Julia's age, but little over fifteen,possesses much insight into character. It was enough for her thather parents invited young men to the house, or permitted them tovisit her. Her favour, or dislike, was founded upon mere impulse, orthe caprice of first impressions. Among her earliest visitors, was ayoung man of twenty-two, clerk in a dry-goods' store. He had anopen, prepossessing manner, but had indulged in vicious habits formany years, and was thoroughly unprincipled. His name I will callWarburton. Another visitor was a modest, sensible young man, alsoclerk in another dry-goods' store. He was correct in all his habits,and inclined to be religious. He had no particular end in view invisiting at Forrester's, more than to mingle in society. Still, ashe continued his visits, he began to grow fond of Julia,notwithstanding her extreme youth. The fact was, she had shot upsuddenly into a graceful woman; and her manners were reallyattractive. Little could be gleaned, however, in her society, or inthat of but few who visited her, from the current chit-chat. It wasall chaffy stuff,--mere small-talk. Let me introduce the reader totheir more particular acquaintance. There is assembled at Mr.Forrester's a gay social party, such as met there almost every week.It is in the summer time. The windows are thrown open, and thepassers-by can look in upon the light-hearted group, at will.Warburton and Julia are trifling in conversation, and the others arewasting. the moments as frivolously as possible. We will join themwithout ceremony.

"A more beautiful ring than this on your finger, I have never seen.Do you know why a ring is used in marriage?"

"La! no, Mr. Warburton. Do tell me."

"Why, because it is an emblem of love, which has neither beginningnor end."

"And how will you make that out, Sir Oracle? ha! ha!"

"Why as plain as a pike-staff. True love has no beginning; for thosewho are to be married love each other before they meet. And itcannot have an end. So you see that a ring is the emblem of love."

"That's an odd notion; where did you pick it up?"

"I picked it up nowhere. It is a cherished opinion of my own, and Ibelieve in it as firmly as some of the Jews of old did in thetransmigration of souls."

"You are a queer body."

"Yes, I have got some queer notions; so people say: but I think Iam right, and those who don't agree with me, wrong. A meredifference of opinion, however. All things are matters of opinion.Aint it so, Perkins?" addressing the young man before alluded to.

"What were you talking about?"

"Why, I was just saying to Julia that all different ideasentertained by different persons, were differences of opinionmerely."

"Do you mean to say, that there is no such thing as truth, orerror?"

"I do--in the abstract."

"Then we differ, of course--and as it would be, according to yourestimation, a mere difference of opinion, no argument on the subjectwould be in place here."

"Of course not," replied Warburton, rather coolly, and dropped thesubject. Julia almost saw that Warburton had made himself appearfoolish in the eyes of the dull, insipid Perkins--but her mentalvision was closed up as firmly as ever, in a moment.

A loud burst of laughter from a group at the other end of the room,drew the attention of the company, who flocked to the scene ofmirth, and soon all were chattering and laughing in a wild andincoherent manner, so loud as to attract the notice of persons inthe street.

"Ha! he! he!" laughed a young lady, hysterically, sinking into achair, with her handkerchief to her mouth--"what a droll body!"

"He-a, he-a, he-o-o-o," more boisterously roared out a fun-lovingchap, who knew more about good living than good manners. And so thelaugh passed round. The cause of all this uproar, was a merryfellow, who had made a rabbit out of one of the girl'shandkerchiefs, and was springing it from his hand against the wall.He seemed to have a fair appreciation of the character of hisassociates for the evening; and though himself perfectly competentto behave well in the best society, chose to act the clown in this.

In due course, order was restored, more from the appearance of awaiter with nuts and raisins, than from an natural reaction.

"Name my apple, Mr. Perkins,"--(don't smile, reader--it's a truepicture)--whispered a young lady to the young man sitting next her.

"It is named."

"Name my apple, Mr. Collins," said Julia, with a nod and a smile.

"It is named."

"And mine, Mr. Collins"--"And mine, Mr. Warburton"--"And mine, Mr.Jones."

The apples being eaten, the important business of counting seed camenext in order.

"How many have you got, Julia?"

"Six."

"She loves!"

"Who is it, Mr. Collins?" asked two or three voices.

"Mr. Warburton," was the reply.

"I thought so, I thought so,--see how she blushes."

And in fact the red blood was mounting fast to Julia's face.

The incident escaped neither the eye of Warburton nor of Perkins. Togo through the whole insipid scene would not interest any reader,and so we will omit it.

After the apples were eaten, "hull-gull,"--"nuts in my hand," &c.,were played, and then music was called for

"Miss Simmons, give us an air, if you please."

"Indeed you must excuse me, I am out of practice."

"No excuse can be taken. We all know that you can play, and we musthear you this evening."

"I would willingly oblige the company, but I have not touched thepiano for two months, and cannot play fit to be heard."

"O, never mind, we'll be the judges of that."

"Come, Miss Simmons, do play for us now, that's a good soul!"

"Indeed you must excuse me!"

But no excuse would be taken. And in spite of protestations, she wasforced to take a seat at the piano.

"Well, since I must, I suppose I must. What will you have."

"Give us 'Bonny Doon'--it is so sweet and melancholy," said aninteresting-looking young man.

"'Charlie over the Water,' is beautiful--I dote on that pong; dosing it, Miss Simmons!"

"Give us Auld Lang Syne.'"

"Yes, or Burns's Farewell.'"

"'Oft in the Stilly Night,' Miss Simmons--you can sing that."

"Yes, 'Oft in the Stilly Night,'--Miss Simmons," said half-a-dozenvoices, and so that was finally chosen. After running her fingersover the keys for a few moments, Miss Simmons started off.

Before she had half finished the first verse, the hum of voices,which had commenced as soon as she began to sing, rose to such apitch as almost to drown the sound of the instrument. She labouredon through about a verse and a half of the song, when she rose fromthe piano, and was proceeding to her vacant seat.

"O no!--no!--no!" said half-a-dozen voices at once.

"That will never do-we must have another song."

"Indeed I can't sing to-night, and must be excused," said the ladywarmly, and so she was excused. But soon another was chosen to bevictimized at the piano, and "will-ye-nill-ye," sing she must.Simultaneous with the sound of the instrument rose the hum ofvoices, which grew louder and louder, until the performer stopped,discouraged and chagrined.

"That's beautiful! How well you play, Miss Emma!" and Miss Emma wasforced to resume the seat she had left half in mortification. Allwas again still for a moment.

"Can you play the 'Harp and Lute,' Miss Emma?"

"No sir."

"Yes you can, though, for I've heard you many a time," said a smartyoung lady sitting on the opposite side of the room.

The blood mounted to the performer's cheeks. "Indeed you're mistakenthough," half pettishly replied Miss Emma.

"But you can play 'Yankee Doodle,'" retorted the first speaker.Miss Emma left the instrument in anger.

"I'll never speak to the pert minx again as long as I live,"whispered Miss Emma in the ear of a friend.

Thus ended the musical exhibition for that evening. As the spirit ofwine grew more active, the men became less formal in theirattentions, and the young ladies less reserved. Before the companybroke up, I almost blush to say, that there was scarcely a ladypresent who had not suffered her red-ripe lips to be touched bythose of every young man in the room. And on all these proceedings,the parents of Julia looked on with keen satisfaction! They liked tosee the young people enjoying themselves!

Then there were rambles by moonlight, during which soft things werewhispered in the ears of the young ladies. These were the occasionson which Warburton loved most to steal away the fond confidence ofJulia; and, by degrees, he succeeded in fixing her regard uponhimself. Consent was asked of the parents, and given; and soon JuliaForrester was Mrs. Warburton. It was only six months after themarriage that a commercial crisis arrived; one of those reactionsfrom prosperity which occur in this country with singularregularity, every ten or fifteen years, and swept from Julia'sfather the whole of his property. This sudden revulsion so preyedupon his mind, that a serious illness came on, which hurried him ina brief period to the grave. The mother of Julia soon followed him.Warburton, ere this, had neglected his wife, and wrung from her manya secret tear. He had married her for the prospect of worldly gainwhich the connection held out, and not from any genuine regard. Andwhen all hope of a fortune was suddenly cut off, he as suddenlyappeared in his real character of a heartless and unprincipled man.

He held the situation of clerk, at the time, in the same store wherehe had been for years. But immediately upon the death of hisfather-in-law, a flood of demands for debts due here and there camein upon him, and not having where with to meet them, he was throwninto jail, and obtained his freedom only by availing himself of thelaw made and provided for the benefit of Insolvent Debtors.

His poor wife knew nothing of the proceedings against him, until hewas lodged in the jail. Hour after hour had passed since the timefor his return to dinner, and yet she listened in vain for hiswell-known footsteps. She felt strangely oppressed in feeling whenthe dim twilight came stealing sadly on, and still he came not home.But when the clock struck nine, ten, eleven,--her distress of mindbecame heightened to agony. The question, so often asked of herself,"Where can he be?" could find no answer. All night long she satlistening at the window, and sunk into a heavy slumber, just as thegrey light of morning stole into the window and paled the expiringlamp. From this slumber, which had continued for nearly two hours,she was aroused by the entrance of a servant, who handed her a note,addressed in the well-known hand of her husband. Tremblingly shetore open the seal; at the first words:

Jail.

DEAR JULIA:

the note fell from her hand, and she pressed her aching head for amoment, as if she feared that her senses would leave her. Thensnatching up the paper, she read:--

"Yesterday I was sent here for debt. I owe more than I can possiblypay, and I see no chance of getting out but by availing myself ofthe Insolvent Law, which I am determined to do. Don't let it troubleyou, Julia; I shall not be here long. To-morrow I shall probably beat liberty. Good-bye, and keep a brave heart,

H. WARBURTON."

For some time after reading this letter, a stupor came over hersenses. Utterly unprepared for such a distressing event, she knewnot how to act. The idea of a jail had ever been associated in hermind with disgrace and crime, and to think that her own husband wasin jail almost bereft her of rational thought. Slowly, however, sheat length rallied, and found herself able to appreciate hersituation, and to think more clearly on her course of action.

Her first determination was to go to her husband. This sheimmediately did. When admitted, she fell senseless in his arms, andit was a long time before she recovered her consciousness. Herpresence seemed to move his feelings less than it annoyed him. Therewas nothing about his manner that sought affectionately her sympathyand confidence--that which gives woman, in situations no matter howdistressing, something so much like happiness to bestow. He gave herbut little satisfaction as to the manner in which he becameinvolved, and when, after several hours, she prepared to go home, athis suggestion, he told her that she must not come there again, asit was not a fit place for her.

"If you are here, Henry," was her reply, the tears starting freshlyto her eyes--"it is a fit place for me."

"That's all nonsense and sentiment, Julia! This is no place for you,and you must not come again. I shall be out in a day or two."

"A day or two is a long--long time,"--and the poor wife's voicetrembled as she spoke.

"It will soon pass away."

"It will seem ages to me, and you in this dreadful place. I mustcome tomorrow, Henry. Tell me who has imprisoned you, and I will goto him, and come to-morrow with his answer. He cannot stand thepleadings of a wife for her husband."

"It's no use, at all, Julia. He is a hard-faced villain, and willinsult you if you see him."

"He cannot--he dare not!"

"He dare do anything."

"Dear Henry, tell me his name."

"No!--no!--no!--It's no use to ask me."

She had many times before suffered from his petulance and coldness;but under present circumstances, when she sought to bring himsympathy and relief, to be repulsed, seemed as though it would breakher heart. Slowly and in tears did she leave the dreadful place thatconfined her husband, and sought her home. There she endeavoured torally her scattered thoughts, and devise some means of relief. Herfirst movement was to go to the employers of her husband. Theyreceived her coldly, and after she had stated the condition of herhusband, told her that they could offer no relief, and hinted thathis conduct had been such as to forfeit their confidence. This was adouble blow; and she returned home with but strength enough to seekher chamber and throw herself, almost fainting, upon her bed.

For hours she lay in a kind of nervous stupor, the most fantasticand troubled images floating through her brain. Sometimes she wouldstart up, at the imagined sound of her husband's voice, and springto the chamber-door to meet him. But the chilling reality woulddrive her back in tears. Where now were the crowds of friends thatbut a short time since had hovered round her? They were butfashionable, soulless insects--the cold winds of adversity had sweptthem away. Since the failure and death of her father, not one of themany who had called her friend had come near her lonely dwelling.But she could not complain. More than one friend had she deserted,when misfortune came suddenly upon them.

She took no food through the whole of that dreadful day, and couldfind no oblivious sleep during the night of agony that followed. Onthe next day, just as she had determined to go again to the prison,her quick ear recognised the foot-fall of her husband. She sprang tomeet him, with a gladder heart than she had known for manyweeks--but his cold manner and brief words threw back upon herfeelings a sickening chill.

"We must move from here, Julia," said he, after a few silentmoments, and looked at her as though he expected objection as amatter of course.

"I am willing, if it is necessary, Henry. I will go anywhere withyou."

Her manner softened his feelings, and he said more tenderly,

"Things are changed with me, Julia. In expectation of somethinghandsome from your father, I have been imprudent, and am now largelyin debt. The Messrs. R. & L. will not, I am sure, take me back intotheir store, and it will be hard, I am afraid, for me to get asituation in town. Our furniture, which I have secured to you, isall we have, except about money enough to pay our quarter's rent nowdue. I see no wiser plan for us than to sell this furniture, exceptenough for one chamber, and then go to boarding. It will bring a sumsufficient to pay our board and other expenses for at least oneyear, if we manage prudently; and, surely, I can get something to doin the mean time."

"I am willing for anything, dear Henry!" said his wife, twining herarms about his neck, and laying her pale cheek to his. The furniturewas accordingly sold, and the reduced and humbled couple removed toa boardinghouse.

As he had expected, Warburton found it hard to get employment.Finally, after doing nothing for two months, he accepted thesituation of bar-keeper at one of the city hotels. Julia pleadedhard with him not to go there, for she feared the influence of sucha place upon him, but he would listen to no argument.

His wife soon began to observe indications of a change for the worsein his character. He grew more pettish and dissatisfied, andfrequently acted towards her with great unkindness. He was rarely,if ever, at home before midnight, and then repulsed everyaffectionate act or word. Several times he came in intoxicated, andonce, while in that state, he struck her a severe blow on the head,which caused an illness of several weeks.

At the end of a year, Warburton had not only become dissipated inhis habits, but had connected himself with a set of gamblers, who,as he proved to be a skilful hand, and not at all squeamish,resolved to send him on a trip down the Ohio and Mississippi, to NewOrleans, for mutual benefit. To this he had not the slightestobjection. He told his wife that he was going to New Orleans onbusiness for the Stage Office, and would probably be gone allwinter. Unkind as he had grown, it was hard parting. Gladly wouldshe have taken all the risk of fatigue, to have accompanied him withher babe but four months old, but he would listen to no suchproposal. When he did go, she felt sick at heart, and, as thethought flashed across her mind that he might probably desert her,helpless and friendless as she was, it seemed as if the fever of hermind would end in madness.

Regularly, however, for several months, she heard from him, and eachtime he enclosed her money; but little more than was sufficient tomeet expenses. In the last letter she received, he hinted that hemight return home in a few weeks. At the usual time of receiving aletter, she waited day after day, hoping and almost fearing toreceive one--anxious to hear from him, and yet fearing that he mighthave changed his mind as to his contemplated return.

Week after week passed, and there were no tidings. Day after day shewent to the post-office with an anxious heart, which throbbedquicker and quicker as the clerk mechanically and carelessly turnedover letter after letter, and at last pronounced the word "none,"with professional indifference. Then it would seem to stop, and lielike a motionless weight in her bosom, and she would steal awaypaler and sicker than when she came. At last, her distress of mindbecame so great, that she went, reluctantly, to the stage-office, toinquire if they had heard from him recently. To her hesitating,anxious inquiry, she received the brief reply that they knew nothingof him.

"But is he not in the employment of this office?"

"I hope not," was the short, sneering reply of one of the clerks.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asked, in an excited tone--"he is myhusband."

The manner of the man instantly changed. "Nothing, ma'am.--It wasonly a thoughtless reply. He is not, however, in our employment, andnever has been."

Mrs. Warburton turned pale as ashes. A chair was instantly handed toher, and a glass of water, and every kind attention offered.

At this moment a man entered, who eyed Mrs. W. with a vulgar stare.The person who had first spoken to Mrs. W. took him aside, and afterconversing in whispers for a few moments, turned to her and saidthat he had just learned that her husband had joined a band oftraders, and was now on his way to Mexico.

"How do you know?" was the quick reply.

"This gentleman has just told me."

"And how do you know, sir?"

"I received a letter from him three weeks ago, in which he statedthe fact to me. He has been in my employment ever since he has beenaway, but has left it and gone to Mexico."

"When did he say he would return?" she asked, in a calm voice.

"That is uncertain, madam."

She tottered out of the office, and stole home with an enfeebledstep. "Forsaken!--forsaken!"--was all the form her thoughts wouldtake, until she met the sweet face of her babe, and then her heartfelt warmer, and not all forsaken.

"Poor thing! how I pity her," said the clerk in the stage-office,when Mrs. W. had retired. "Her husband is a scoundrel, that's all Iknow about it," responded the gentleman-gambler, who had sentWarburton out on a swindling expedition.

"The more the pity for his poor wife."

"I wonder if she has any property of his in her hands?" queried thegambler.

"Why?"

"Why?--Why because I'll have my own out of it if she has. I have hisnote, payable in a week, for money lent; and if he has got a dollarhere, I'll have it."

"You'll not turn his wife out of doors, will you?"

"Will I?"--and his face grew dark with evil thoughts.--"WillI?--yes!--what care I for the whining wench! I'll see her to-morrow,and know what we have both to expect."

"Coulson!" said the clerk, in an excited but firm voice--"You shallnot trouble that helpless, unfortunate woman!"

"Shall not? ha! Pray, Mr. Sympathy, and how can you hinder me?"

"Look you to that, sir. I act, you know, not threaten."

The gambler's face grew darker, but the clerk turned away with alook of contempt, and resumed his employment.

That night he sought the dwelling of Mrs. Warburton. He found herboarding at a respectable house on--street. He named his businessat once, and warned her not to allow herself to get in the power ofCoulson, who was a gambler, and an abandoned villain.

When he understood her real situation--that she was in debt forboard, and without a dollar, forsaken of her husband, and amongstrangers, his heart ached for her. Himself but on the salary of aclerk, he could give little or no assistance. But advice andsympathy he tendered, and requested her to call on him at any time,if she thought that he could aid her. A kind word, a sympathisingtone, is, to one in such a sad condition, like gentle dews to theparched ground.

"Above all," was his parting admonition, "beware of Coulson! He willinjure your character if he can. Do not see him. Forbid the servantsto admit him. He will, if he fixes his heart upon seeing you, leaveno stone unturned to accomplish it. But waver not in yourdetermination. And be sure to let me know if he persecutes you tooclosely. Be resolute, and fear not. I know the man, and have crossedhis path ere this. And he knows me."

Early on the next day, Coulson called, and with the most insinuatingaddress, asked to see Mrs. Warburton.

"Ask him to send up his name," was Mrs. W.'s reply to theinformation of the servant, that a gentleman wished to speak to her.

"Coulson," was returned.

"Tell him that I cannot see him."

To this answer he sent back word that his business was important andurgent.

"Tell him that I cannot see him," was the firm reply.

Coulson left the house, baffled for once. The next day he called,and sent up another name.

"He is the same person who called himself 'Coulson' yesterday," saidthe servant to Mrs. W.

"Tell him that I cannot be seen."

"I'll match the huzzy yet!" he muttered to himself as he left thehouse.

It now became necessary for Mrs. Warburton to rally all the energiesof her nature, feeble though they were, and yet untried. The rate ofboarding which she was required to pay, was much beyond what shecould now afford. At first she nearly gave up to despair. Thus farin life, she had never earned a single dollar, and, from herearliest recollection, the thought of working for money seemed toimply degradation. But necessity soon destroys false pride. Hergreatest concern now was, what she should do for a living. She hadlearned to play on the piano, to draw and paint, and had practisedembroidery. But in all these she had sought only amusement. In not asingle one of them was she proficient enough to teach. Fine sewingshe could not do. Her dresses had all been made by the mantua-maker,and her fine sewing by the family sempstress. She had been raised inidle pleasure--had spent her time in thrumming on the piano, makingcalls, tripping about the streets, and entertaining company.

But wherever there is the will, there is a way. Through the kindinterference of a stranger, she was enabled to act decisively. Tworooms were procured, and after selling various articles of costlychamber furniture which still remained, she was enabled to furnishthem plainly and comfortably, and have about fifty dollars left.Through the kind advice of this same stranger, (where were all herformer friends?) employment was had, by which she was soon able toearn from four to five dollars a week.

Her employment was making cigars. At first, the tobacco made her sosick that she was unable to hold her head up, or work more than halfher time. But after awhile she became used to it, and could worksteadily all day; though she often suffered with a distressingheadache. Mrs. Warburton was perhaps the first woman who made cigarsin--. Through the application of a third person, to amanufacturer, the work was obtained, and given, from motives ofcharity.

She had been thus employed for about three months, and was beginningto work skilfully enough to earn four dollars a week, and give allnecessary attention to herself and child, when Mr.--, themanufacturer, received a note signed by all the journeymen in hisshop, demanding of him the withdrawal of all work from Mrs.Warburton, on pain of their refusal to work a day longer. It was aninfringement, they said, upon their rights. Women could afford towork cheaper than men, and would ruin the business.

Mr.--was well off, and, withal, a man who could brook nodictation, in his business. His journeymen were paid their regularwages, and had, he knew, no right to say whom he should employ; andfor any such interference he promptly resolved to teach them alesson. He was, moreover, indignant that a parcel of men, many ofwhom spent more money at the taverns and in foolish expenses, in theweek, than the poor forsaken mother of a young babe could earn inthat time, should heartlessly endeavour to rob the more than widowof her hard-earned mite.

"I will sacrifice half that I am worth, before I will yield to suchdictation," was his only answer to the demand. The foolish men"struck," and turned out to lounge idly in taverns and other places,until their employer should come to terms. They were, however, soonconvinced of their folly; for but a few weeks elapsed before Mr. hademployed females to make his cigars, who could afford to work forone-third less than the journeymen had been receiving, and make goodwages at that. The consequence was, that the men who had, frommotives of selfishness, endeavoured to deprive Mrs. W. of her onlychance of support, were unable to obtain work at any price. Severalof them fell into idle and dissolute habits, and became vagabonds.Other manufacturers of cigars followed the example of Mr.--, andlessened the demand for journeymen; and the result in this instancewas but a similar one to that which always follows combinationsagainst employers--viz: to injure the interests of journeymen.

It was not long before Coulson found out the retreat of Mrs.Warburton, and commenced his persecutions. The note of her husbandhad fallen due, and his first movement was to demand the payment.Perceiving, however, at once, that to make the money out of anyproperty in her possession was impossible, he changed his manner,and offered to befriend her in any way that lay in his power. For amoment she was thrown off her guard; but remembering the caution shehad received, she assumed a manner of the most rigid coldnesstowards him, and told him that she already had friends who wouldcare for her. The next day she managed to apprize the clerk in theStage Office of the visit of Coulson, who promptly took measures toalarm his fears, for he was a coward at heart, and effectuallyprevent his again troubling her.

Little of an interesting nature occurred for about a year, when shereceived a letter from her husband at Cincinnati. He stated thathaving despaired of getting along in the business he had enteredinto on leaving--which had involved him in debt, he had left with acompany of traders for Mexico, and had just returned with a littlemoney, with which he wished to go into business. But that if hereturned to--, he would be troubled, and all he had taken from him.He enclosed her a hundred dollar note, and wished her to come to himimmediately, and to leave--without letting any one know herdestination. He professed much sorrow for having left her in sodestitute a condition, but pleaded stern necessity for the act.

Mrs. W. did not hesitate a moment. In four days from the time shereceived the letter, she was on the way to Cincinnati. Arrivedthere, she was met by her husband with some show of affection. Hewas greatly changed since she had seen him, and showed manyindications of irregular habits. He appeared to have plenty ofmoney, and took rooms for his wife in a respectable boardinghouse.The improvement in his child pleased him much. When he went away itwas only about five months old--now it was a bright little boy, andcould run about and chatter like a bird. After some hesitation inregard to the kind of business he should select, he at lastdetermined to go into the river-trade. To this Mrs. Warburton gentlyobjected; because it would keep him away from home for monthstogether. But his capital was small, and he at length made his firstpurchase of produce, and started in a flat-boat for New Orleans.Poor Mrs. W. felt as if deserted again when he left her. But at theend of three months he returned, having cleared four hundred dollarsby the trip. He remained at home this time for two months, drinkingand gambling; and at the expiration of that period had barely enoughleft to make a small purchase and start again.

Her troubles, she plainly saw, were just beginning again, and Mrs.Warburton almost wished herself back again in the city, for which,though there she had no friends, her heart yearned.

Her husband did not return, this time, from his river-voyage, forthree months; nor did he send his wife during that time any money.The amount left her was entirely exhausted before the end of thesecond month, and having heard nothing of him since he went away,she feared to get in debt, and, therefore, two weeks before hermoney was out, applied for work at a cigar-factory. Here she wasfortunate enough to obtain employment, and thus keep herself aboveabsolute want.

Long before her husband returned, her heart had fearful forebodingsof a second blighting of all its dearest hopes. Not the lesspainful, were those anticipations, because she had once suffered.

One evening in June, just three months from the time her husbandleft, she had paused from her almost unremitted employment, duringthe violence of a tremendous storm, that was raging without. Thethunder rattled around in startling peals, and the lightning blazedfrom cloud to cloud, without a moment's intermission. She could notwork while she felt that the bolt of death hung over her. For halfan hour had the storm raged, when in one of the pauses whichindicated its passing away, she started at the sound of a voice thatseemed like that of her husband. In the next moment another voicemingled with it, and both were loud and angry. Fearfully she flungopen the door, and just on the pavement, drenched with the rain, andunregardful of the storm, for one more terrible raged within, stoodtwo men, contending with each other in mortal strife, while horribleoaths and imprecations rolled from their lips. One of these, fromhis distorted face, rendered momently visible in the vivid flashesof the lightning, and from his voice, though loud and disguised bypassion, she at once knew to be her husband. His antagonist was notso strong a man, but he was more active, and seemed much cooler.Each had in his hand an open Spanish knife, and both were striking,plunging, and parrying thrusts with the most malignant fury. It wasan awful sight to look upon. Two human beings striving for eachother's lives amid the fury of a terrible storm, the lightnings ofwhich glanced sharply upon their glittering knives, revealing theirfiend-like countenances for an instant, and then leaving them inblack darkness.

For a few moments, Mrs. Warburton stood fixed to the spot, but,recalling her scattered senses, she rushed towards the combatants,calling upon them to pause, and repeating the name of her husband ina voice of agony. The result of the strife was delayed but aninstant longer, for with a loud cry her husband fell bleeding at herfeet. His antagonist passed out of sight in a moment.

Lifting the apparently lifeless form of her husband in her arms,Mrs. Warburton carried or rather dragged him into the house, andplaced him upon the bed, where lay their sleeping boy. She thenhurried off for the nearest physician, who was soon in attendance.

The first sound that met the ear of Mrs. Warburton, on her return,was the voice of her dear child, eagerly calling, "Pa! pa! wake up,pa!"--And there was the little fellow pulling at the insensible bodyof his father, in an extacy of infantile joy at his return.

"Pa come home!--Pa come home, mamma!" And the little fellow clappedhis hands, and shook the body of his father in the effort to wakehim.

The mother gently lifted her child from the bed. His little faceinstantly changed its expression into one of fear, when he lookedinto his mother's countenance. "Pa's very sick, and little Charlesmust keep still," she whispered to the child, and sat him down inthe next room.

When the physician arrived, he found that the knife had entered theleft breast just above the heart, but had not penetrated far enoughto destroy life. There were also several bad cuts, in differentparts of his body, all of which required attention. After dressingthem, he left the still insensible man in the care of his wife andone of his assistants, with directions to have him called should anyalarming symptom occur. It was not until the next morning that therewas any apparent return of consciousness on the part of the woundedman. Then he asked in a feeble voice for his wife. She had left thebed but a moment before, and hearing him speak, was by his side inan instant.

"Julia, how came I here? What is the matter?" said he, rousing up,and looking anxiously around. But overcome with weakness from theloss of blood, he sank back upon the bed, and remained apparentlyinsensible for some time. But he soon showed evidence of painfulrecollection having returned. For his breathing became morelaboured, under agitated feelings, and he glanced his eyes about theroom with an eager expression. After a few minutes he buried hisface in the bed-clothes and sighed heavily. Distinct, painfulconsciousness had returned.

In a few days he began to grow stronger, and was able to sit up; andwith the return of bodily vigour came back the deadly passions thathad agitated him on the night of his return home. The man, he said,had literally robbed him of his money, (in fact, won it); hadcheated him out of every dollar of his hard-earned gains, and hewould have his life.

When hardly well enough to walk about, Warburton felt the evilinfluence of his desire for revenge so strong, as to cause him toseek out the individual who, he conceived, had wronged him, bywinning from him, or cheating him out of his money. They met in oneof the vile places in Cincinnati, where vice loves to do her darkwork in secret. Truly are they called hells, for there the love ofevil and hatred of the neighbour prompt to action. Every malignantpassion in the heart of Warburton was roused into full vigour, whenhis eyes fell upon the face of his former associate. Instantly hegrasped his knife, and with a yell of fiendish exultation sprangtowards him, like some savage beast eager for his prey. The othergambler was a cool man, and hard to throw off of his guard. Hisfirst movement was to knock Warburton down, then drawing his Spanishknife, he waited calmly and firmly for his enemy to rise. Blind withpassion, Warburton sprang to his feet and rushed upon the other, whoreceived him upon the point of his knife, which entered deep intothe abdomen. At the same instant, Warburton's knife was plunged intothe heart of his adversary, who staggered off from its point, reeledfor a few seconds about the room, and then fell heavily upon thefloor. He was dead before the cool spectators of the horrid scenecould raise him up.

From loss of blood Warburton soon fainted, and when he came tohimself, he found that he had been conveyed to his home, and thathis weeping wife stood over him. There were also others in the room,and he soon learned that he was to be conveyed, even in thecondition he was then in, to prison, to await his trial for murder.

In vain did his poor heart-stricken wife plead that he might be leftthere until he recovered, or even until his wound was dressed; butshe pleaded in vain. On a litter, faint from loss of blood, andgroaning with pain, he was carried off to prison. By his side walkedher whom no ill treatment or neglect could estrange.

Three months he was kept in jail, attended daily by hisuncomplaining wife, who supported herself and little boy, with herown hands, sparing much for her husband's comfort. The wound had notproved very dangerous, and long before his trial came on, he was aswell as ever.

The day of trial at length came, and Mrs. Warburton found that itrequired her strongest efforts to keep sufficiently composed tocomprehend the true nature and bearing of all the legal proceedings.Never in her life before had she been in a court of justice, and thebare idea of being in that, to her awful, place, stunned at firstall her perceptions; especially as she was there under circumstancesof such deep and peculiar interest.

Next to her husband, in the bar, did this suffering woman take herplace: and that husband arraigned before. his country's tribunal forthe highest crime--murder! How little did she dream of such an awfulsituation, years before, when a gay, thoughtless, innocent girl, shegave up in maiden confidence, and with deep joy, her affections tothat husband. Passing on step by step, in misery's paths, she had atlast reached a point, the bare idea of which, had it beenentertained as possible for a moment, would have almost extinguishedlife. Now, her deep interest in that husband who had abused herconfidence, and almost extinguished hope in her bosom, kept her up,and enabled her to watch with unwavering attention every minuteproceeding.

After the indictment was read, and the State's Attorney, in acomprehensive manner, had stated the distinct features of the case,which he pledged himself to prove by competent witnesses, poor Mrs.Warburton became sick and faint. A clearer case of deliberate murdercould not, it seemed to her, be made out. Still, she was sure theremust be palliating circumstances, and longed to be permitted to riseand state her impressions of the case. Once she did start to herfeet, but a right consciousness returned before she had uttered aword. Shrinking into her seat again, she watched with a pale faceand eager look, the course of the proceedings.

Witness after witness was called on the part of the state, eachtestifying distinctly the fact of Warburton's attack upon themurdered man, and his threat to take his life. Hope seemed utterlyto fail from the heart of the poor wife, when the testimony on thepart of the prosecution closed. But now came the time for theexamination of witnesses in favour of the prisoner. Soon Mrs.Warburton was seen upon her feet, bending over towards the witness'stand, and eagerly devouring each word. Rapid changes would passover her countenance, as she comprehended, with a woman's quicknessof perception, rendered acute by strong interest, the bearing whichthe evidence would have upon the case. Now her eye would flash withinterest and her face become flushed--and now her cheek would pale,and her form seem to shrink into half its dimensions. Oh! who canimagine one thousandth part of all her sufferings on that awfuloccasion? When, finally, the case was given to the jury, and afterwaiting hour after hour at the court-house, to hear the decision,she had to go home long after dark, in despair of knowing the resultbefore morning, it seemed hardly possible that she could passthrough that night and retain her senses. She did not sleep throughthe night's long watches--how could she sleep? Hours before thecourt assembled, she was at the court-house, waiting to know thefate of one, who now, in his fearful extremity, seemed dearer to herthan ever. Slowly passed the lingering minutes, and at length teno'clock came. The court-room was filled to suffocation, but throughthe dense crowd she made her way, and took her place beside heranxious husband. The court opened, and the foreman of the jury cameforward to read the verdict. Many an eye sought with eagercuriosity, or strong interest, the face of the wife. Its calmnesswas strange and awful. All anxiety, all deep interest had left it,and as she turned her eye upon the foreman, none could read theslightest exhibition of emotion. "GUILTY OF MURDER IN THE SECONDDEGREE!" Quick as thought a hundred eyes again sought the face ofMrs. Warburton. It was pale as ashes, and her insensible form wasgently reclining upon the arm of her husband, which had beenextended to save her from falling.

When recollection returned, she was lying upon her own bed, in herown chamber, with her little boy crying by her side. Those who had,from humane feelings, conveyed her home, suffered the dictates ofhumanity to die in their bosoms ere her consciousness returned; andthus she was left, insensible, with no companion but her child.

In due course, Warburton was sentenced to eight years imprisonment,the first three years to be passed in solitary confinement. Duringthe first term, no person was to be allowed to visit him. Theknowledge of such a sentence was a dreadful blow to Mrs. Warburton.She parted from him in the court-room, on the day of his sentence,and for three long, weary years, her eyes saw him not again.

But a short time after the imprisonment of Warburton, another babecame into the world to share the misery of her whose happiness hehad, in all his actions, so little regarded. When able again to goabout, and count up her store, Mrs. Warburton found that she hadlittle left her beyond a willing heart to labour for her children.It would have been some comfort to her if she had been permitted tovisit her husband, but this the law forbade.

"Despair is never quite despair," and once more in her life did Mrs.Warburton prove this. The certainty that there could be no furtherdependence upon her husband, led her to repose more confidently inher own resources, for a living, and they did not fail her. She hadlong since found out that our necessities cost much less than oursuperfluities, and therefore she did not sit down in idledespondency. Early in the morning and late at night was she founddiligently employed, and though her compensation was not great, itwas enough to supply her real wants.

For two years had she supported thus with her own hands herself andchildren. The oldest was now a smart little fellow of five years,and the youngest a fair-haired girl of some two summers. Thus farhad she kept them around her; but sickness at last came. Naturecould not always sustain the heavy demands made upon her, and atlast sunk under them.

There are many more cases of extreme suffering in this country thanpersons are generally willing to believe. These extreme cases areamong those whose peculiar feelings will not allow of their makingknown their real condition. They are such as were once members ofsome social circle, far removed indeed from the apparent chances ofpoverty. Their shrinking pride, their yearning desire forindependence clings closer and closer to them, and operates more andmore powerfully, as they sink lower and lower, from uncontrollablecauses, into the vale of want and destitution. Beggars with nofeelings, and no claims beyond those of idleness and intemperance,thrust themselves forward, and consume the bread of charity, thatshould go to nourish the widow and the orphan, who suffer daily andnightly, rather than ask for aid.

One to whom the idea of eating the bread of charity had ever been apainful and revolting one, was Mrs. Warburton. So long as she wasable, she had earned with untiring industry, the food that nourishedher children. But close confinement, insufficient nourishment,labour beyond her strength, and above all, a wounded spirit, at lastcompleted the undermining work, which threw down the tottering andfeeble health that had long kept her at her duties.

It was mid-winter when she was severely attacked by abilious-pleurisy. For some weeks she had drooped about, hardly ableto perform half her wonted labour--most of that time suffering froma hard cough and distressing pain in the side, which was augmentedalmost to agony while bending steadily, and for hours over her work.Taking, as it did, all that she could earn to keep herself andchildren in comfort during the winter, she had nothing laid up for atime of more pressing need; and, as for the last few weeks, she hadearned so little as to have barely enough for necessaries, whenhelplessness came, she was in utter destitution, Her wood was justout, except a few hard, knotted logs; her flour was out, and hermoney gone. When she could no longer sit up, she sent her little boyfor a physician, who bled her, and left her some powerful medicines.The first gave temporary relief, and the latter reduced her to astate of great bodily and mental weakness. He did not call in againuntil the second day, when he found the children both in bed withtheir mother, who was suffering greatly from a return of the pain inher side. The room was chilly, for there was no fire, and it wasintensely cold without, and the ground covered with a deep snow. Heagain bled her, which produced immediate relief, and learning thatshe had no wood, called in at the next door, where lived a wealthyfamily, and stated the condition of their poor neighbour A child ofsix years old stood by his mother while the physician was speaking.The lady seemed much affected when told of the sufferings of the,poor woman, politely thanked the physician for making her acquaintedwith the fact, and promised immediate attention.

That evening there was to be at this house a large party. Extraservants had been employed that day, and all was bustle andpreparation.

"Sarah," called the lady, a few minutes after, to herhousekeeper--"Sarah, Dr. H--was here just now, and said that thepoor woman who lives next door is sick and out of fuel. Tell John totake her in an armful of wood, and do you just step in and see whatmore she is in want of."

"Yes, ma'am," responds Sarah, and muttering to herself somedissatisfaction at the order, descends to the kitchen, and addressesa sable man-servant, and kind of doer-of-all-work-in-general, indoors and out,

"John, Mrs.--says you must take an armful of wood in to Mrs.Warrington; I believe that is the woman's name who lives next door."

"Who? de woman whose husband in de Penitentiary?"

"Yes, that's the one, John."

"Don't love to meddle wid dem guess sort of folks, Miss Sarah.'Druder not be gwine in dere," responds the black, with a broad grinat his own humour.

"Well, I don't care whether you do or not," responds Sarah, andglides swiftly away, satisfied to do one part of her order andforget the other, which related to her going in to see the poorwoman herself. Mrs.--shifted off the duty on her housekeeper, andshe contented herself by forgetting it.

Little William, who was present with his mother when the doctorcalled, was, like all children, a true republican, and had oftenplayed with the child of the sick woman. He had seen his littleplaymate but a few times since the cold weather set in; but had allhis sympathies aroused, at the doctor's recital. Being rather moresuspicious of the housekeeper than his mother, and no doubt for goodreasons best known to himself, he followed on to the kitchen, andwas an ear-witness to what passed between John and the sub-mistressof the mansion.

"Come, John, now that's a good fellow," said he to the negro, afterthe housekeeper had retired, "take in some wood to poor Mrs.Warburton."

"'Fraid, Massa Billy, 'deed. 'Fraid of penitentiary--ha! ha!!ha!!!"

"She can't help that, though, John. So come along, and take the woodin."

"'Fraid, i'deed, Massa Billy."

"Well, if you don't, I'll take it in myself, and dirty all myclothes, and then somebody will find it out, without my turningtell-tale."

John grinned a broad smile, and forthwith, finding himselfoutwitted, carried in the wood, and left it in the middle of thefloor, without saying a word.

Towards evening, just before the company assembled, little William,not at all disposed to forget, as every one else had done, the poorsufferers next door, went to the housekeeper's room, where she wasbusy as a bee with preparations for the party, and stationed himselfin the door, accosted her with--

"Miss Sarah, have you been in to see Mrs. Warburton, as ma told you,to-day?"

"That's no concern of yours, Mr. Inquisitive."

"But I'd just like to know, Miss Sarah; 'cause I'm going in myself,if you hav'nt been."

"Do you suppose that I have not paid attention to what your ma said?I know my own business, without instruction from you."

"Well, I don't believe you've been in, so I don't, that's all; andif you don't say yes or no at once, why, you see, I'll go right inmyself."

"Well (coaxingly) never mind, Billy, I haint been in, I've been sobusy; but just wait a little bit, and I'll go There's no use of yourgoing; you can't do nothing."

"I know that, Miss Sarah, and that's why I want you to go in. But ifyou don't go in, I will, so there, now!"

"Well, just wait a little bit, and I'll go."

The child, but half satisfied, slowly went away, but lingered aboutthe passages to watch the housekeeper. Night, however, came on, andhe had not seen her going. All were now busy lighting up, and makingthe more immediate and active preparations for the reception ofcompany, when he met her in the hall, and to his, "Look here, I say,Miss Sarah," she hurried past him unheeding.

The company at last assembled, and the hours had passed away untilit was nine o'clock. Without, all was cold, bleak, and cheerless.Within, there was the perfection of comfort.

Little William had been absent for some time, but no one missed him.Just as a large company were engaged in the various ways of passingtime, dancing, chatting, and partaking of refreshments, the roomdoor opened, and in came Master Billy, dragging in by the hand, alittle barefoot fellow about his own age, with nothing on but aclean, well-patched shirt, and a pair of linen trowsers. Withoutheeding the company, he pulled him up to the glowing grate, and inthe fulness of his young benevolent heart, cried out,

"Here's fire, Charley! Warm yourself, old fellow! Hurrah! I guessI've fixed Miss Sarah now." And the little fellow clapped his handsas innocently and as gracefully, as if there had been no one in theroom but himself and Charley.

All was agreeable and curious confusion in a few minutes, and scorescrowded around the poor child with a lively interest, who, an hourbefore would have passed him in the street unnoticed.

"Why, Willy! what does all this mean?" exclaimed the father, aftersomething like order had been restored.

"Why, pa, you see, this is Charley Warburton," began the littlefellow, holding the astonished Charley by the hand, and presentinghim quite ceremoniously to his father. "Doctor H--came hereto-day, and told ma that his mother was sick next door, and thatthey had no wood. So ma tells Sarah to send John in with some wood,and to go in herself and see if they wanted anything. So Sarah goesand tells John to go and take some wood in. But John he wa'nt goingto go, till I told him that if he didn't go I would, and if I wentto carrying in wood, I'd dirty all my clothes, and then somebodywould want to know the reason. So John he carried in some wood. ThenI watched Sarah, but she didn't go in. So I told her about it. Andthen she promised, but didn't go. I told her again, and shepromised, but didn't go. I waited and waited until night, and stillSarah didn't go in. Then you see, awhile ago I slipped out the frontdoor, and tried to go in to Mrs. Warburton's. But it was all so darkthere, that I couldn't see anybody; and when I called 'Charley,'here, his mother said, softly, 'who's there,' and I said 'it's onlylittle Willy. Ma wants to know if you don't want nothing.' 'Oh, it'slittle Willy--it's little Willy!' says Charley, and he jumps on thefloor, and then we both came in here. O! it's so dark and cold inthere--do pa go in, and make John build them a fire."

During the child's innocent but feeling recital, more than one eyefilled with tears. Mrs.--hung down her head for a moment, insilent upbraidings of heart, for having consigned a work of charityto neglectful and unfeeling servants. Then taking her child in herarms, she hugged him to her bosom, and said,

"Bless you, bless you, my boy! That innocent heart has taught yourmother a lesson she will not soon forget." The father felt prouderof his son than he had ever felt, and there were few present who didnot almost wish him their own. Little Charley was asked by Mr.--ifhe was hungry, on observing him wistfully eyeing a piece of cake.

"We haint had nothin' to eat all day, sir, none of us."

"And why not, my little man?" asked Mr.--in a voice of assumedcalmness.

"'Cause, sir, we haint got nothin' to eat in the house. Motheralways had good things for us till she got sick, and now we are allhungry, and haint got nothin' to eat."

"Here, Sarah, (to the housekeeper, who came in at the moment)--no,not you, either--do you, Emma, (to his wife,) give this hungry childsome nourishing food with your own hands. He has a claim on you, forthe sake of our little Willy."

Mrs.--was not slow in relieving Charley's wants and then, afterexcusing herself to the company, she visited, with John and Sarah,the humble, uncomplaining child of humanity, who had been suffering,so painfully, in the next house to her comfortable dwelling.

The light carried by John revealed, in the middle of the floor, thearmful of wood, in large logs, almost impossible to kindle, whichthe servant had thrown down there without a word, or an offer tomake a fire. Mrs.--'s heart smote her when she saw this evidenceof her neglect of true charity. Enveloped in the bed-clothes, shefound Mrs. Warburton and her little child, the former suffering frompain and fever, and the latter asleep, with tears glistening on hereyelashes. The room was so cold that it sent chills all over her, asshe had come in without throwing a shawl around her shoulders.

"I am sorry to find you so sick, and everything around you so coldand comfortless," she said, addressing Mrs. Warburton.

"I don't feel so very sick, ma'am, only when I try to sit up, I growso faint, and have to lie down again. If my little things hadanything to eat, I wouldn't mind it much."

Just then, aroused by the voice of her mother, the little girlawoke, and began moaning and crying. She could not speak plain, andher "bed and mik, mamma"--"O, mamma, bed and mik," thrilled everyheart-string of Mrs.--, who had never before in her life witnessedthe keen distress of a mother while her child asked in vain forbread. She drew the child out of bed, and kissing it, handed it toSarah, whose feelings were also touched, and told her to take thelittle thing into her house, and give it to the nurse, withdirections to feed it, and then come back.

By this time, John, rather more active than usual, had kindled afire, the genial warmth of which began already to soften the keenair of the room. Some warm drinks were prepared for Mrs. Warburton;and Mrs.--had the satisfaction to see her, in the course of halfan hour, sink away into a sweet and refreshing slumber. On glancingaround the room, she was gratified, and somewhat surprised, to seeeverything, though plain and scanty, exhibiting the utmost order andcleanliness. The uncarpeted floor was spotless, and the single pinetable as white as hands could make it. "How much am I to blame," washer inward thought, "for having so neglected this poor woman in herdistress and in her poverty!"

On returning to her company, and giving a history of the scene shehad just witnessed, the general feeling of sympathy promptedimmediate measures for relief, and a very handsome sum was placed inthe hands of Mrs.--, by the gentlemen and ladies present, for theuse of Mrs. Warburton. Rarely does a social company retire with eachindividual of it so satisfied in heart as did the company assembledat Mrs.--'s, on that evening. Truly could they say, "It is moreblessed to give than to receive."

The incident just related, possessing a kind of romantic interest,soon became noised about from family to family, and for awhile itwas fashionable to minister to the wants of Mrs. Warburton--whosehealth continued very delicate--and to her young family. But a fewmonths passed away, and then one after another ceased to remember orcare for her. Even Mrs.--, the mother of little Billy, began togrow weary of charity long continued, and to feel that it was aburdensome task to be every day or two obliged to call in or inquireafter the poor invalid. Finally, she dismissed the subject from hermind, and left Mrs. Warburton to the tender mercies of Sarah, thehousekeeper.

From a state of deep despondence to one of hope, had Mrs. Warburtonbeen raised, by the timely aid afforded through the perseveringinterference of the little playmate of her son. But she soon beganto perceive, after a time, that the charity was only spasmodic, andentered into without a real consideration of her peculiar case. Themoney given her was the best assistance that could have beenrendered, for with this she obtained a supply of wood, flour, meal,potatoes, and some warm clothing for her little ones. But this wouldnot last always, and the multitude of little nice things sent fromthis one and that, were of but little service.

The month of March, so trying to a weak and shattered constitution,found her just well enough to venture out to seek for employment ather old business of cigar-making. She readily obtained work, andagain sat down to earn for herself and children, the bread thatshould nourish them. But she was soon made to feel keenly that herhealth was not as it had been. A severe pain in the side was herdaily companion, and she had to toil on, often sick and faint, fromdaylight until long after others had sought the grateful repose oftheir pillows. Painfully alive to a sense of dependence, she wasready at any time to work beyond her strength rather than to eat thebread of charity. This kept her steadily bending over her work untilnature again became exhausted, and she was forced, from directdebility, to suspend her labours for at least the half of every day.As April came in, with an occasional warm day, her appetitegradually left her, and she began to experience a loathing of food.Weakness, headaches, and other painful warnings of nature, were theconsequences. Her earnings were now so small, that she withdifficulty procured enough of food for her children. She knew thatif she would let Mrs.--know her pressing destitution, food andother necessaries would be supplied; but she shrank from telling herwants. Finding, however, that her strength continued to fail, untilshe was unable to sit up but for a few hours at a time, and that, inconsequence of her extreme weakness, the nausea produced by thetobacco was so great, as to render it almost impossible for her towork in it, she made up her mind to let her boy go in to Mrs.--,with a request to send her some little thing that she could eat, inhopes that something from her table might provoke an appetite.

Mrs.--was sitting at her dinner-table, which was covered with theluxuries of the season, when little Charley came into the room andhanded in his poor mother's request.

"Please, ma'am, mother says will you be so good as to send her somelittle thing that she could eat. She has no appetite, and not eatin'makes her so weak."

"Here's some pie, Charley," struck in little Billy. "It's good, Itell you! Eat it now; and ma, do send in Charley's mother a piece,too: I know she'll like it."

But Billy and his mother did not agree in this. The latter thought alittle sago would be much better. So she gave Charley a paper inwhich were a few spoonfuls of sago.

"Here is some sago, mother," said Charley, on his return,"Mrs.--says it will do you good."

Now it so happened that, from a child, she had never liked sago.There was something in it so insipid to her, that she had never feltan inclination to more than taste it. Particularly now did herstomach loathe it. But, even if she had felt an inclination to tastethe sago, she had not, at the time, any way to prepare it so as tomake it palatable. She did not, however, at the time, send foranything else. She still had some flour and potatoes, and a littlechange to buy milk, and on these her children fared very well.Healthy food does not cost a great deal in this country, and Mrs.Warburton had long before learned to husband well her resources.

On the next morning she tried to get up, but fainted away on thefloor. Her children were still asleep, and were not even awakened byher fall. It was some time before she recovered sufficiently tocrawl upon the bed; and there she lay; almost incapable of thoughtor motion, for hours. As feeble nature reacted again, and she wasable to think over her situation, she made up her mind to send inher little boy again to Mrs.--, with an apology for not using thesago, and request her to give her some little thing from hertable--anything at all that would be likely, as she said, "to put ataste in her mouth," and induce an appetite for food. The childdelivered the message in the best way he knew how, but some how orother it offended the ear of Mrs.--, who had begun to be tired ofwhat she was pleased to call the importunities of Mrs. Warburton;though, in fact, she had never before even hinted that she was inwant of anything. The truth was, Sarah, the housekeeper, had heardsomething from somebody, about Mrs. Warburton, and had been relatingthe puerile scandal to Mrs.--, who, instead of opposing thetattling propensity in her servant, encouraged it, by lending to hersilly stories an attentive ear. But the story was false, frombeginning to end, as are nearly all the idle rumours which areconstantly circulating from one family to another, through themedium of servants.

"How did she do," she had just been saying to Sarah, "before Ibefriended her? It is a downright imposition upon my good-nature,and I have no notion of encouraging idleness."

"The fact is, ma'am," chimed in the maid, "these here poor people,when you once help 'em, think you must be a'ways at it; they find itso much easier to beg than work."

Just at this stage of conversation, the child timidly preferred thehumble and moderate request of his sick mother; a request thatshould have thrilled the heart of any one possessing a single humansympathy. But it came at the wrong moment. The evil of self-love wasactive in the heart of Mrs.--, and all love of the neighbour wasfor the time extinguished. She cast upon the child a look soforbidding that the little fellow turned involuntarily to go.

"Here, Sarah," said she, in a half-angry tone, "send Mrs. Warburtona dried herring. Perhaps that will 'put a taste in her mouth.'"

And a herring was sent!

"It's a pretty pass, indeed," said Miss Sarah, as the child closedthe door, "when beggars become choosers!"

Only half satisfied with herself, Mrs.--turned away and made noreply. How differently did she feel on the night, when, with her ownhands, she ministered to the wants of this same suffering child ofhumanity! Then her heart, though melted even to tears, felt abounding gladness, from the consciousness of having relieved thesuffering. Now it was heavy and sad in her bosom, and she could nothush the whispers of an accusing conscience.

Little Charley carried home the herring, and laid it on the bedbefore his sick mother. His own little heart was full, for he couldnot mistake the manner of Mrs.--for kindness. Mrs. Warburtonlooked at the uninviting food, and turned her head away. Afterawhile, it did seem to her as if the fish would taste good to her,and she raised herself up with an effort, and breaking off a smallpiece, put it languidly to her lips. The morsel thrilled upon thenerve of taste, and she ate the greater part of it with a relish shehad not known for many weeks.

In the mean time the heart of Mrs.--smote her so severely, whenall at once she remembered having lost her appetite after a spell ofsickness, and the difficulty with which she regained it;--how duringthe day, nothing could tempt her to eat, while all night long shewould dream of rich banquets, of which she eagerly desired topartake, but which changed to tasteless morsels, when she lifted theinviting food to her lips. For a time she strove against herfeelings, but at last gave up, and ringing for the cook, directedher to broil a couple of thin slices of ham very nicely, make a goodcup of tea, and a slice or two of toast. When this was ready, it wassent in to Mrs. Warburton. It came just in time, and met the excitedappetite of the faint-hearted invalid. It was like manna in thewilderness, and revived and refreshed her drooping frame.

From this time she gradually regained her appetite and strength; andhad the gratification of being able to earn with her own handsenough for the support of her children.

This she continued to do until the expiration of the solitaryconfinement term of her husband. How wearily passed the long, longdays and nights, as the time approached for her again to look uponthe face that had been hid from her sight for three sorrowful years!The long absence had only excited her affection for him. Not as thedead had she thought of him, but as of the living, and of thesuffering. Her own deep poverty, sickness, and anxious concern forher children she counted as nothing to his lonely endurance of life.

Some weeks before the expiration of the first term of imprisonment,she gathered together all her little store, and having sold manyheavy articles, packed the rest, and had them started for Columbus,the capital of the state. She then took a deck-passage for herselfand children in a steamboat for Portsmouth, from which place shedetermined to walk, carrying her youngest child, a little girl ofnearly three years, in her arms. I will not linger with her, nortrace her toilsome and lonely journey through strange places,continued without a day's intermission, until she at last came insight of the long-looked-for place. After the time-worn state-house,the next building that met her eye, was the old, dark-lookingprison, in which was confined her husband. How gladly did her eyesgreet its sombre walls! It was the dwelling-place of one, for whom,in all his wanderings, her heart retained its warm emotions of love.Suddenly, like a parching wind of the desert, came upon her thethought that he might be dead. For three long years she had not beenpermitted to receive tidings from him, and who could tell, if inthat time, the wing of death had not o'ershadowed him? Trembling,weary, and sick at heart, she made her way first to the prison-gate,and there, to her unspeakable joy, she learned that he still lived.

For many nights previous to the day on which permission would begranted her to see him, sleep had parted from her eyelids; and whenthe time did come, she was in a high state of mental excitement.Morning slowly dawned upon her anxious eyes, but seemed as if itwould never give place to the broad daylight. At last the sun cameslowly up from his bright chambers in the east. It was the day onwhich she should again see her husband; the long-looked-for, thelong-hoped-for. Tremblingly she stole out, ere the day was an hourold, and ran, not walked, to the gloomy dwelling-place of herhusband.

For several days previous she had not been able to keep away fromthe prison, and the keeper, who knew her errand, had become muchinterested in her case. He received her kindly, and made instantpreparation for the desired interview.

For three years Warburton had not heard the music of a human voice.Far away from the sight or sound of his fellow-prisoners, he haddwelt alone, visited only by the mute keeper who had brought hisdaily food, or otherwise ministered to his wants. To his earnest andoft-repeated inquiries if nothing was known of his wife andchildren, for whose welfare a yearning anxiety had sprung up in hisbreast, he was answered only by a gloomy silence. He did not know,even on the morning of his release from solitary confinement, thatthe all-enduring companion of his better days had come to cheer hisanxious eyes with her presence. Soon after daylight of this morningthe door of his cell turned heavily on its hinges, and he wasbrought out among his fellows, and heard again the sweetest musicthat had ever fallen upon his ear, the music of the human voice. Astronger thrill of pleasure had never passed through his frame. Hefelt as though he could remain thus shut out from the rest of theworld for ever, so that he could see and talk with his fellow-men.He did not then think of the keen delight that awaited him, for inthe first impulse of selfish gratification he had forgotten thebeing who loved him better than life.

An hour had not passed when he was again called for. The door of aprivate apartment in the keeper's house was thrown open, and heentered alone. There was but one being present: a pale, haggardwoman, poorly clad, who tottered towards him with extended arms. Atthat moment both hearts were too full, and their lips were sealed insilence. But oh! how eagerly did each bind the other in a long, longembrace! It seemed as if their arms would never be unlocked. For onehour were they left, thus alone. But how were years crowded intothat hour; years of endurance--terrible endurance!

It seemed scarcely one-tenth of that short time, when Mrs. Warburtonwas summoned away, but with the kind permission to visit her husbandat the same hour every day. Slowly she passed beneath the ponderousgate, and still more slowly moved away, thinking how long it wouldbe before another day had passed, bringing another blessedinterview.

The case of Warburton and his faithful wife soon came to the ears ofthe governor, and he having expressed considerable sympathy forthem, the fact was soon made known to Mrs. Warburton, who wasrecommended to petition him in person for a remission of thesentence. The hint was no sooner given than acted upon, and after adelay of several months of hope and fear, to the joy of her heart,she found her husband at liberty.

In some of his former business or gambling transactions he hadbecome possessed of a clear title to three hundred acres of land,upon which was a log-cabin, situated about thirty miles eastwardfrom the capital of the state, and nearly upon the national road.Searching among his papers, still preserved by his wife, he foundthe deed, and as nothing better offered, he started with his familyand but ten dollars, to begin the world anew as a backwoods farmer.The few articles of furniture which his wife had preserved, servedto render the dilapidated cabin, in which was not a single pane ofglass, sash, or shutter, barely comfortable. It was early in thespring when they re-moved, and though the right time for plantingcorn and the ordinary table vegetables, yet it would be monthsbefore they would be fit to use. In the mean time, a subsistencemust be had. The quickest way to obtain food Warburton found in theuse of his rifle, for wild turkeys and deer abounded in the forest.He also managed to take a few dozen turkeys now and then to aneighbouring town, and dispose of them for corn-meal, flour, andgroceries. In about a month he was enabled to sell one hundred acresof his land for three hundred dollars, one hundred in money, and thebalance in necessary things for stocking a farm. He was now fairlystarted again, with a cow, a horse, and all requisite agriculturalimplements.

Mrs. Warburton did not feel satisfied in her own mind that thissudden relief from daily pressing want would be a real benefit tothem. She had learned to suspect the reformation which was effectedby the force of external circumstances, while no salutary change inthe will was going on. For some time, however, she had every reasonto be encouraged. Her husband was industrious, and careful to makethe best he possibly could out of his farm, and was kind andattentive to her and his children. Their garden, as the summer woreaway, presented a rich supply of vegetables, and their corn andpotatoes in the fall yielded enough for their use during the winter,besides several bushels for sale.

The winter, however, did not pass away without several indicationson the part of Warburton of a disposition to indulge in thepleasures of the bottle. There had been, in the course of thesummer, a tavern erected, about a mile from his dwelling, on thenational road; and here, during the dull winter months, he toofrequently resorted, to pass away the hours, with such persons asare usually to be found at these haunts of idleness.

The income of this house, as a place of accommodation fortravellers, was very small, for within four miles of it stood atavern and stage-house, kept in a style that had made it known tothe travelling public. It was simply a receptacle for the odd changeof the neighbours, at times when they had an hour or two to sparefrom business. Gradually, its business increased, and as graduallythe farms of one or two individuals in the neighbourhood, who were,more frequently than others, to be found at the tavern, evinced acorresponding decrease in their flourishing condition. Fences thatnever wanted a panel were now broken in many places; and barns thatnever admitted a drop of rain, now leaked at a hundred pores. Once,there was an air of cheerfulness and plenty around their dwellings;now, wives and children looked, the former troubled and broken inspirits, the latter dirty and neglected. Where once reigned peaceand quietness, existed wrangling and strife.

During the succeeding farming season, Warburton gave considerableattention--cultivating his ground, which in the fall yielded him anabundant return. Still, during the summer, he visited the "WhiteHall Tavern" too frequently, and was too often under the bewilderingand exciting influence of liquor. The next winter tended greatly tocomplete the work of dissipation, which had been commenced a yearbefore. Frequently he would come home so much intoxicated as to belost to all reason. At such times he was not the stupid,good-natured, drunken fool that is often met with; he was then acruel, unreasonable and exacting tyrant. His poor wife and childrendid not only suffer from his wordy ill temper, but had to endure insilence his blows, and often tremble even for their lives. Whensober, an indistinct remembrance of his cruelties and other badconduct, instead of softening his feelings towards his family, madehim moodily silent, or cross and snappish if a word were said tohim.

The constant and almost daily drain of small change for liquor, hadnearly exhausted all the money in the house long before the winterwas over. The accommodating landlord seemed to discover, as byinstinct, this condition of things, and encouraged Warburton to runup a score. He well knew that at any time it was easy to get thepayment out of a man who had a good farm, well stocked. Not so muchfor the money to be made at the business, as for the purpose ofattracting more persons to his tavern, the landlord of the "WhiteHall" kept a small store. At this store, Warburton, long before thewinter was over, had also made a pretty large bill. As if to atonefor his unkindness to, and neglect of his family, he would rarelyreturn from his voluntary visits at the tavern, without bringinghome something. A few pounds of sugar to-day, some cheese or fishto-morrow, or some dried fruit on the day after. The excuse, thatsuch and such a thing was wanted, was often made to get away to thepublic house, and thus scarcely a day passed without a dollar or twobeing entered against him on the books of the smiling landlord.

When the spring opened, and his bill was made out, much to hissurprise, he found his account to be one hundred and fifty dollars!After some two or three weeks' pondering on the matter, during whichtime he was cross and sulky at home, two fine cows and one of hisbest horses were quietly transferred from his pasture to the morecapacious one of the landlord of the "White Hall;" and thus hisaccount was squared with Boniface.

The discouragement consequent upon such a reduction of his stock,tended to make him less industrious and less pleasant. He wasconstantly grumbling about his expensive family, and could notafford to send his two oldest children to a school just opened inthe neighbourhood, although the master offered to take them both forfive dollars a quarter. His wife, he said, could teach them at home.And in this she was not neglectful, as far as her time allowed.

How rarely does the drunkard, when once fairly started, stop in hisdownward course! How similar is the history of each one! Neglect ofbusiness--neglect of family--confirmed idleness--abuse offamily--waste of property--and finally, abject poverty.

In less than three years from the day on which he breathed the airagain as a free man--free, through the untiring assiduity of hisneglected but faithful wife, he struck her to the ground, andunregardful of all the ties of nature, left her alone with herchildren, in the wilds of the west, after having made over house andfarm to the land lord of the "White Hall," for fifty dollars and hisbill at the bar.

Day after day did his poor wife wait and look for him to return,until even hope failed, and she at last, with a heavy heart,commenced the task of recalling her own energies in aid of thelittle ones around her.

But she soon found her condition to be far worse than she hadimagined. But a few days passed after her husband had left herbefore the hard-hearted tavern-keeper came, and removed everythingbut the house in which she lived from off the place, and then gaveher notice that she must also remove, and in three weeks, as he hadrented the farm to a man who wished to take immediate possession.

Hope, the kind and ever attendant angel of the distressed, for morethan a week seemed ready to depart; but at the end of that time, afaint desire to return to her native city began to grow into aresolution, and by the time a second week had passed away, she hadfully resolved to set out upon the journey.

But she had only twenty dollars, after disposing of the few thingstheir rapacious creditor had left them, and with this she had to goa journey of nearly five hundred miles, with three children, theoldest about twelve years of age. But when once her mind is made up,there are few things a resolute mother will not undertake for herchildren.

By persevering in her applications, day after day, to the wagonerson the national road, she at length so far prevailed on one of themas to let her and her children ride as far as Zanesville, for thetrifle of a dollar or two, in his wagon.

In the true spirit of success, she looked only at the presentdifficulty, reserving thought and attention for all succeedingdifficulties, whenever they might come. In this spirit she cutherself loose from her place in the west, and started for--utterlyunable to say how she should ever reach the desired spot.

For the first day or two, the wagoner held no conversation with her;he had been unable to resist the promptings of his kind feelings infavour of one who had asked him for aid, although he had much rathernot have given her a place in his wagon. By degrees, however, histemper changed, and he occasionally asked a question, or made apassing remark; and by the time he had reached Zanesville, he hadbecome so interested in her case, that he refused to take thestipulated price, and kindly offered to carry her as far asWheeling, and to--, if he found it to his interest to go there.

The way thus providentially opened for her, few obstacles remained,and in the course of a few weeks she found herself again in the homeof her childhood, the dear spot that had lived in her memory, greenand inviting, for years.

But how changed was the poor sufferer! But a very few dollars of hermoney was left. The fatigue of travel. ling so long and in souncomfortable a manner, had gradually shaken the props of a feeblebody; and by the time she looked again upon the old, familiarplaces, her form was drooping with sickness.

Slowly she descended from the wagon, received her children, one byone, from the hands of the wagoner, thanked him with a tearful look,and tottered away. But where could she go? She had neither home, normoney, nor friends--was sick and faint. Years before, she hadtripped lightly along the very street through which she now draggedher weary limbs. She even passed by the same house, and heard thelight laughter of thoughtless voices, from the same window fromwhich she had once looked forth in earlier years, a joyful andlight-hearted creature. How familiar did that dear spot seem! buthow agonizing the contrast that forced itself upon her! Little didthe merry maiden who looked out upon the pale mother, with droopingform and soiled garments, who gazed up so earnestly towards her,imagine, that but a few years before, that poor creature lookedforth from that same window, a glad-hearted girl.

Scarcely able to act or decide rationally, for her head achedintensely, and she was burning with fever, Mrs. Warburton wanderedabout the streets with her three children, one a boy about twelveyears old, the other a little girl about nine, and the third, alittle one tottering by her side, scarce two years old. All at once,as she turned her steps into--street, her eye caught sight of thetall poplars that indicated the home of the homeless. "I have nohome but this," she murmured to herself, and turned her stepsinstinctively towards the dark mass of buildings that stood near thepresent intersection of--and--streets.

"Where is your permit?" said the keeper, as she falteringly askedfor admission.

"I have none," was the faint reply.

"We cannot take you, unless you bring a permit from one of thecommissioners."

"I don't know any commissioner."

"Where are you from?"

"I have just come to town from the west, and am too sick to doanything. I feel faint, and unable to go farther. Can you not admitme, and let application be made to the commissioners for me?"

The appearance of Mrs. Warburton too plainly indicated her sickcondition, and the keeper thought it best to admit her for thepresent. A meeting of the commissioners was held on the sameafternoon, and a formal admission given.

The first indication that Mrs. W. had, that she was no longer atliberty to choose or think for herself, was the entire separation ofher children from her. True, she was soon too ill to attend to them,but that would have made no difference. After a dangerous illness ofmany weeks, during most of which time she was insensible toeverything around her, she was again able to droop about a little.Her first questions, after the healthy reaction of body and mind,were about her children; her first request, to see them. But thiswas denied. "They are doing well enough," was all the answer shecould get.

"But cannot I see Emma, my little one? Do let me see her!"

"It is contrary to the rules of the institution. You cannot see hernow."

"When can I see her?"

"I don't know,"--and the nurse of the sick woman left her and wentto attend somewhere else, utterly insensible to the keen agony ofthe mother's heart. Was she not a pauper? What right had she tohuman feelings? But a mother's love is not to be chained down torules, or circumscribed by the narrow policy of charteredexpediency. As Mrs. Warburton slowly gained strength, a quickerperception of her situation grew upon her, and she soon determinedto know all about her children. In vain had she asked to see them;but each denial only increased the desire, and confirmed herresolutions to see them and know all about them.

One day, when she could walk about a little, a day on which she knewthe board of commissioners were in session, she watched heropportunity, and when the nurse was attending in another part of theroom, stole quietly out, and soon made her way to the commissioners'room.

"Gentlemen, a mother asks your indulgence," was her appeal, as thekeeper checked her entrance.

"Let her enter, Mr.--," said one of them.

"What is your wish, good woman?" continued the first speaker.

"I want to see my children."

Her voice was so low and mournful, and her pale face, which stillretained many traces of former beauty, expressed so strongly hermaternal anxiety, that the hearts of all were touched.

They looked at each other for a few moments, and after somewhispered words, directed that she should be allowed to see herchildren for half an hour each day.

The keeper now called their attention to certain of theirproceedings, some weeks past, and they found that places had beenobtained for two of them, the oldest boy, and the little girl,scarce ten years old.

"We have obtained good places for two of your children, madam; theother, aged two years, you can have under your own care, whilehere."

"And all without allowing me one word, as to who should take them,or where they should go! My poor little Mary, what can you do as aservant?"

"They are well provided for, madam. You can now retire."

Mrs. Warburton did retire, and with a bleeding heart. Her littleEmma was restored to her, and was constantly by her side. She hadbeen two months in the alms-house, when she was strong enough towork, and by a rule of he place, she had to work two months, to payfor her keeping while sick, before she would be allowed to go out,and maintain herself.

Slowly and heavily passed the hours for two weary months, when shepresented herself for a release from imprisonment.

"Where can I find my children?" she asked of the keeper, as she wasabout to leave.

"It is against the rule to give any such information in regard topauper children. And in this particular instance, it was the requestof both persons taking your children, that you should not be toldwhere they were, as they wished to raise them without being troubledby foreign influence."

The mother attempted no remonstrance, but turned away, and homeless,and almost penniless, leading her little one by the hand, againentered the city where her happiest years had been spent.

As she passed down a street, she saw on the door of an old brickhouse, the words "A room to let." She made application, and engagedit, at two dollars a month. A pine table, and an old chair, shebought at a second-hand furniture store for a dollar; and with theother dollar she had left, the pittance saved from the twentydollars she had when she left Ohio, she bought some bread, driedmeat, milk, &c. She had no bed, and was for some time compelled tosleep with her child on the hard floor.

The art of making cigars, which she had learned years before, andwhich had more than once stood between her and want, was againbrought into use. She applied at a tobacconist's, and obtained work.Giving all diligence, day and night, she was able to make five orsix dollars every week, with which, in a short time, she gathered afew comfortable things about her, among which was a bed.

Two months had passed since she left the alms-house, and still shecould gain no tidings of her children. Daily, for an hour or two,had she made search for them, but in the only way she could devise,that of wandering about the streets, in hopes of finding them out onsome errand. As the winter drew on, she became more and more anxiousand concerned. If her little girl, who was always a delicate child,should be in unkind hands, she sickened at heart to think how muchshe would suffer. Night after night would she dream of the dearchild; and always saw her in some condition of extreme hardship.

One night she thought she saw little Mary sitting on the curb-stone.She went up to her, and dreaming that it was very cold, found herbare-foot, thinly clad, and almost perishing. The child threw herlittle arms, naked and icy cold about her neck, and as herwell-known voice sounded in her ears, she awoke.

She slept no more through that night, and soon after breakfast,started out, being unable, through the uneasiness of her mind, towork. Without questioning the reason why, she naturally wandered inthe direction indicated in her dream. When near the place, she wasstartled by the piercing screams of a child that seemed in greatagony, and there was entreaty and supplication mingled in the tones.The voice was like the voice of her own child. She knew it was herown child; a mother's ear is never deceived. Darting towards thespot, she found a bucket of hot water spilled upon the pavement,from which the vapour was rising in a cloud, and glancing her eyedown the alley, she saw her little one half-dragged, half-carried,by the arm, by a tall, masculine woman, who seemed in a violentrage. Following like the wind, she reached the dwelling of thevirago as she entered and dashed the child upon the floor. Just asMrs. Warburton came up, and was lifting it, the woman had obtained astout cow-hide, and was turning to lacerate the back of the littleone, as she had often done before, her face red and expressing themost wicked passions.

At once Mrs. Warburton felt that only in retreat was their safety,and catching up the child in her arms, she darted out as quickly asshe had entered. Not more swiftly, however, did she go, thanfollowed the enraged woman to whom this child of nine years old hadbeen bound to do the work of a woman. Finding herself gained upon bythe person in pursuit, she looked about for a place of retreat, andseeing "Magistrate's Office" on a sign, she darted into that lowercourt of justice. Here she was safe from molestation, until somedecision was made in the case, by those deputed to act. A crowd soongathered about, attracted by the strange sight of a woman flyingwith a child in her arms, and another in hot pursuit. Themagistrate, who was a humane man, and held his office in a part ofhis dwelling, instinctively perceived that the mother and her childneeded kindness and consideration, and had them, after examination,removed back into his dwelling, and placed under the care of hiswife, while he entered more fully into the merits of the case.

When Mrs. Warburton was sufficiently at ease to examine her child,she found her a pitiable object indeed. Her face, neck, and bodywere dreadfully scalded, and her back was in scars and welts allover, and in some places with the skin broken and festering. Itappeared, from the statement of the child, that the woman she livedwith had placed on her head a bucket of scalding water for her tocarry to a store, which she was going to scrub out. The heavy weighton her head caused her to lose her balance and fall, when the wholecontents of the bucket were spilled over her face and neck, andpenetrated through her clothes to the skin, in all directions.

Of course, she was suffering the most excruciating pain. Medical aidwas called in by the magistrate, and every attention extended to thelittle sufferer, who seemed to forget her pain in the consciousnessof her mother's presence. The inhuman wretch who had thus brutallymaltreated a mere child, enraged to a state of insanity in findingherself thwarted in obtaining the child, made an appeal to the citycourt, then in session, and had all the parties present. It neededbut this to give Mrs. W. uncontrolled possession of little Mary. Thecondition in which the court found the child, added to the touchingstory of her mother, caused an instant cancelling of the indentureby which the unfeeling woman claimed possession of her.

In a few days after, Mrs. Warburton found her boy, who, much to hersatisfaction, had a good place, with which he was pleased, and waslearning a good trade. She was now fairly started again, and as herspirits revived, her health became much improved. Month after monthpassed away, and brought with it new sources of comfort, new causesfor satisfaction. Of her husband, she now thought with no affection.It is true, earlier feelings would sometimes return, but with noforce, and after moving the waters of her quiet spirit for a moment,would tremble into rest.

When a man once extinguishes his own self-respect, he is a burden tosociety. But when a husband and father descends so low, he becomes acurse to his family. After abusing them, and making their conditionso wretched that even he cannot share it, he will forsake the wifeof his bosom and the children of his early love, and leave them tothe tender mercies of strangers. But let the mother gather herlittle ones around her, and by toiling early and late, make theircondition comfortable, and the brutalized wretch will return andconsume the food of his children, and abuse them if they complain.

A year had passed away, when early one evening in the fall of theyear, a man pushed open the door of the room she occupied, and witha "well Julia," took a chair, and made himself at home withoutfurther ceremony. Though dirty and ragged, with a beard of a week'sgrowth, and half drunk, Mrs. Warburton could not mistake the form ofher wretched husband.

"O, husband! can this be you?"

"Yes, Julia, this is me. I've come back at last. I've tried hard tomake something for you and the children, but it is no use, fate isagainst me; so here I am again, poor as ever. But give me somethingto eat, for I'm hungry as a badger."

Six years had passed away since Warburton had returned, and thewretchedness which had been with him in his absence, he brought asan abiding guest to the dwelling of his wife. During that time, shehad endured sickness, hunger, abuse, and been nigh unto death; butthrough it all she had come with a heart still unsubdued, thoughalmost broken. For her children's sakes, two more of whom had beenadded in that time, she had stood up and breasted the storm.

At last, her miserable husband, sunk in the lowest depths ofdrunkenness and degradation, died, as he had lived. It was the dawnof a brighter day for Mrs. Warburton when the spirit of her husbandtook its flight to the world of spirits. Her son was nearly freefrom his trade, and her oldest girl could assist her greatly in thehouse, as well as by earning something for their support.

Content and health having taken up their abode with her, we willleave her to fill up her allotted space in life unobtrusively andpeacefully. The story of Mrs. Warburton has been introduced asanother illustration of the ill effects which so often arise fromthe want of watchfulness on the part of parents, in regard to thecharacters of the young men who are allowed to visit and play uponthe affections of their daughters. It also shows how unconquerableis a mother's love. Here a weak, foolish girl, by strong trial,becomes a woman with a strength of mind that nothing can subdue,and, as a mother, overcomes difficulties from which most men wouldshrink in despair.

THE END.

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