sought the opening proposed. Who knew?
The bad step might be concluded, and boyant
hours once more return.

Vicissitude quickens the eye. On being
marsholled to Mr. Berrington's visial apartment, it
became obvious as he was a new mortial. Proud
and solemn, and grown fat, and a costly, expensive
chain, with a ball like a magicion's, only
smaller, and other charms. Nor was the moral
of the tale long in the dark. A showy, stout
lady, more rubicandious than strict elegance
admits, was haughty reclining on the other side
of the fire.

"Mrs. Berrington, my darling, this is Mr.
Theodore. 'Bliss in the Cot,' you know, love."

The lady yawned, and said "O!" and that
was the sum bonum of her notice.

"Sit down, Theodore," said Mr. Berrington.
"You know Mrs. Berrington by reputotion;
Miss Kewney that was, till I prevailed on her
to change her name."

"Sir," said I, "wedlock is not wonderful in
the present state of parties, the Elderberry
Flower concidered. I beg to wish you both
propitious happiness," and my heart began on
the spot to beat like an anvil, for I discerned
Mr. Berrington a-fingering a paper book, and I
knew "Bliss in the Cot" again,—the child of
hours of Care's sweet hope.

"I've gone through this book of yours,
Theodore," said he; "and there's something to
be got out of it."

"Sir," I interrupted, with my eyes in an
absolate mist, "what you say imports life
to me."

"Pervided you will correct the grammar and
the autography, and set the rymes to rights, and
change the plot of ground in me third act. And,
by the way, Mrs. Berrington must have a part of
a page, and a rondo with castynets to bring the
curtain down. Have it ready by Easter, when
Mrs. Berrington opens at the Limited Royal
Commercial Academy of Music" (how he rolled
this out!), "and we'll talk about it then."

If I said anything—if I said nothing—or what
I did not say to a proposial so cold-bloodedly
fatal in the extreme, I do not recollect to this
existing day. I am fearful that the pangs of the
needy which explodes consequential in bad
language got the better of me; and I was tearing
along the Strand like an insane wild beast
of the wild forest, with my book crushed fast
in my thriling, disapointed hand, ere I knew
as I was out of that wicked house; and that
bloated, unfeeling oppressor of genius, with his
partner yawning subsiquient to a meal in the
corisponding chair. Malydictions would have
rose to my lips. Only such is not eligible in
thoroughfairs.

But worse it was to come behind. I reached
the portal of Povirty's poor abode at last. I. may
have deviated round by Hoxton or Camberwell,
for anything I can aver;—and my throat was as
choked, and my lips was as burning like a
furnace, as if I had been a party fresh from a sea-
fight or a earthquake. A cab drove up to the
house door simultaneous, and the cabman he
descended and opened the door wide, and out he
drew a large basket. There was a shawl over
it. Didn't I know by experiness its patron?

"Can you acquaint me, my good fellow,"
say's he, as superior as if we was equals, "if
Timothy Wignett has a room here?"

"Pull the second bell, and ask if so be you
want to ask any inquiry," was my reply.

"Because," said the same party, sniggering,
"I've brought him a present and a note."

"Hand it over," says I; " a present is
welcome to all." I knew as how it was in request.

"When my fair's paid," says he; and down
he flumped the baskit on the door-step, as
impuident as Lucifer.

I had only a hard three shillings about me
towards the week's eighteen for the boy.
He got all three, and drove off like a
thundarbolt. I had eat nothing since morning,
for high hopes had extinguished appetite,
and I saved all as I could. So he drove off,
and I was left on the steps with the baskit, and
the note. I knew the handwriting as confidentially
as I knew tbe shawl, erst Lady Maria's,
now full of slits.

This was in its contents the date was not
Maida-vale:

"We are going abroad. My sister having
unitad herself to one of the best of men, and
about to embark with me in a prosperous
undertaking. Never mind were. Baby being out
of the question, I forward him to you per bearer.
He is delicate, above all when he is in his
tempers. "M. W."

I tottered. This last feather launched against
one unable to cope with any fresh unpleasantry,
broke me down as no expressions can convey.
I got my female landlady to aid me up-stairs
with the reluctant unwelcome burthen, though
it was no weight to speak of.

"Why, what is this, Mr. Theodore?" said
she, crying out suddon, as she unpinned the
shawl, which had fastened the child in its place
tighter as should have been so. "The baby's
dead, and only just! Feel, it's hardly quite cold
yet. Poor little thing!"

O sir, I would not wish the most presuming
and imperuous of them as has pursued me with
calculatang cruelties to feel what I felt as I
touched the little curled-up hands (the arms
was dismal lean), and the little purple lips, and
the eyes as was half open, dim. Conscienstious
remorse gnawed like a file. I could not be in
a due passion with that misterous sister-in-law of
mine, as had wound my wife round her finger;
for Mrs. Wignett, though weak, would never,
by her own importunities, have contrived at the
neglect of infancy equal to this. Guilty I felt
myself, having too willing easy resigned an
offspring of my bosom to them pair of pernicious
females. If ever there was a moving
spectacle to ring a repentant roving being, it was that
poor, pale, unhealthy dead creature, as had never
requested to enter this life of its own free
will and concord. I flung myself on the ground
with a desperate torrent of grievous sobs and
grones, and wished as I was dead likewise to
lay beside it. How long I prostrated there