know. I always thought that proud Ida Norman would have a fall yet." "Fall, indeed," said Sally, "I guess it is a fall."

"Well, do tell me how you heard this," said Maria, "and what else you know."

Poor Ida was ready to faint;-she thought it wrong to listen; but was so much affected by the conversation as scarcely to be able to move.

"You know, Maria," said Sally, in a whisper, yet perfectly audible to Ida, "that window-seat in the room next to Mrs. Newton's, where one can sit behind the curtain without being observed;-well, this morning I was going to Mrs. Newton to ask her about going home in vacation; and as her door was open and I heard her talking very earnestly to Miss Westworth, I thought there would be no harm in listening; and so I just stepped behind that curtain where I could hear every word just as plain as day." "And were they talking about Ida Norman's father?" said Maria.

They were so; and I heard Mrs. Newton say, 'What a pity that a man like Mr. Norman should have fallen into bad habits; and that he seemed to have forgotten his children, for she had not, for a year, received

any letters from him; and that he had not for a long time sent any money to his children or for their support.'

"Good gracious!" said Maria, "just think! and Mrs. Newton herself has bought Ida Norman all those nice black dresses she has had out of her own money. I wonder she did not send her home, long ago!"

"Send her home! Why, she has no home to go to," said Sally; "but she will have to come down, any how, for I don't believe Mrs. Newton will always support her like a lady. But I have not told you the worst of the story yet. Miss Wentworth asked Mrs. Newton if she thought it possible Mr. Norman had married a foreign woman of doubtful character;—I remember the very words of Mrs. Newton's answer. She drew a long sigh, and said, 'That disgrace is the worst of all. The report is true, too true; I have learned all the particulars from a lady who has just returned from abroad, and saw Mr. Norman at Florence.'

"Hush! what noise is that?" said Sally. The malicious girl ran, and drawing forward the folding-door, beheld in a corner of the room, which had been concealed from their notice, Ida Norman lying senseless on the floor.

EARLY DAY IN NEW YORK.-LOUIS' FIRST ADVENTURE.

On reaching Broadway, Louis found his impatience had led him there too early for business. He wished to find a jeweler's shop, but none was yet opened. The carts of the milk venders were seen passing in the streets; the little chimney-sweeps were trilling forth their peculiar notes; here and there an industrious servant was washing the marble steps of a princely dwelling, or an idle one holding on by the street door and gossiping with a neighbor's servant loitering on an errand. Market-wagons rattled through the streets; and hacks towering with traveling-trunks and carpet-bags, and filled with gentlemen in surtouts, and ladies with traveling dresses and green vails, were moving in various directions, to the depots of steamboats and railroad cars.

Louis looked to see if one face betokened sadness like his own, but all appeared to him happy. "The poor chimney-sweep," thought he, "has some home to go to, when his daily toil is over. I am a wanderer and an adventurer, embarked on an unknown sea, not knowing the course before me, or the rocks upon which I may be driven." Tears filled the eyes of Louis, and his courage had well nigh failed; but he thought of the responsibility which now rested on him as the guardian of his sister; the supporting arm of faith was held out to sustain him, and with renewed hope he said to himself, "My Father's at the helm."

As the morning advanced, seamstresses, clerks, and men of business began to appear, omnibusses rattled through the streets, and New York, as a giant refreshed with sleep, was awake and in motion.

Louis soon saw a jeweler's shop, with the shutters open, and perceiving

a young man standing by the counter rubbing his eyes, he inquired, "Is the master of the shop within ?" for as he wished to make sale of his watch and the other articles of value in his possession, he supposed a clerk might not be the proper person to address.

"How do you know, mister, but what I am the boss?" replied the hopeful youth; "I guess you hain't seen through a mill-stone yet, for all your fine broadcloth."

"A bad beginning," thought poor Louis, as, in anguish of heart and without answering, he turned away. He walked on, and entered another shop. A man with sandy-red hair and whiskers stood waiting for customers, prepared to pounce upon his victim, somewhat as grimalkin may be seen watching for a mouse. Louis did not like the aspect of the man, but was anxious to accomplish his business; and he asked, somewhat hesitatingly, if he wished to buy a gold watch with chain, and valuable diamond ring and pin.

Looking inquisitively and suspiciously at Louis, the jeweler said, "Let me look at 'em, I can tell better whether I'll buy after I've seen 'em." Louis handed the box containing the articles, and the man grasping them closely, said, "I'll see what you have got here; no doubt, though, they are either false trinkets, or stolen goods."

A feeling of resentment rose in the breast of Louis, suffocating and oppressive. As the jeweler was opening the box, he continued, "You are rather a young rogue, but I'll examine your trumpery, and see if 'tis good for any thing." As the rich diamonds, with the heavy chased watch and chain of solid gold, met the eye of the man, he grasped them still closer, exclaiming, "I said if they were not false, you must have stolen them; I pronounce them to be genuine, and this proves you are a thief. You expect me to buy these things, do you? You need be thankful if I do not seize you, and send for an officer of the police to put you in prison."

Louis was thunderstruck; the possibility of such an accusation had never occurred to him-his property in the hands of a villain, and himself liable to be taken up as a thief! The dangers of his situation flashed upon his mind; but conscious innocence gave him courage, and prudence suggested the necessity of suppressing his indignation.

"If you do not wish to buy these articles, sir," said Louis with dignity, "you will at least return them to me; they are all I am worth in the world, and I wanted to sell them to pay a debt."

"Now, young man," said the shopkeeper, "you need not attempt to come over me in this way; I have seen rogues before you. Folks don't give boys such jewelry as this; you may as well be honest with me, and own where you got these things; and, between ourselves, if you will just be candid and confess, I'll try to keep you away from the police, (which will be no very easy matter, for they are cunning enough, I tell you,) and we'll go snacks."

The baseness of the man struck Louis with horror. He saw that it was

useless to urge him to restore his money, for he clutched the box closer and closer, and his eyes became more and more glowing and serpent-like. A sudden thought occurred to Louis ;-" And so you will give me part of the money, and screen me from punishment, if I confess where I got these things; it is rather hard, but I will go and see what somebody else says about it, and let you know."

"Who do you mean by somebody else, you young rogue? and so you've got an accomplice, have you? You must be well trained in your business, to get at such treasures. Well, every body has talents for something; if I had not taken to an honest calling, I think I should have made a pretty cunning rogue myself."

The man chuckling at what he meant for wit, and believing he was in a fair way of coming in for a large share of the plunder, again contemplated with eager eyes the tempting contents of the box; on looking up, Louis had disappeared.

As Louis silently fled from the shop of the wicked jeweler, he had the precaution to make a memorandum of the number, with the name on the sign. So sudden had been this new misfortune, that until he had walked some little distance, instinctively desiring to escape from the presence of a villain, he had formed no plan whatever for attempting to recover his property. The thought of Mrs. Newton's interest in him, and of the kindness of the Landons, presented itself; but he rejected the idea of troubling them, in an affair where they could give him no assistance.

The effect of this new misfortune was not to sink Louis into a state of despondency; but, on the contrary, he seemed animated with new resolution; his object now was no longer one from which his heart revolted, the disposing of what was dear to him from a thousand associations; but to recover those valuable gifts from the grasp of a knave, and to bring him to justice; and now, that he was called to act a manly part, his spirit grew strong within him. He was certain there was a way in which he could recover his property, though too little versed in legal operations to understand exactly how to proceed. His teachers and school-companions could prove the articles to be his, as the possession of such valuables by a school-boy had been a fact of some notoriety in his little circle.

But though his redress must be sought for in the law, Louis had no money to fee a lawyer; he had given his last dollar to his sister on Saturday, when he left her in her sick room. Searching his pockets he found a few pennies, which he regarded with more satisfaction than once he would have experienced at the possession of heaps of gold. He began to feel faint and hungry, and these pennies would enable him to buy some bread for his breakfast;-the thought of Dr. Franklin eating his penny-roll in the streets of Philadelphia occurred to him; and hope again gave him courage. Looking about for an eating-house, he saw in the window some ginger-cakes, and a loaf of bread; and entering the little shop to which they furnished a sign, he addressed a good-natured looking woman, as he laid down his penVOL. IV.-5

nies, desiring her to give him a roll. The woman, surprised at seeing a youth of his appearance enter her little shop, which was chiefly frequented by the poor, and that he should only call for bread, asked him if he would not take a cup of coffee-the coffee was tempting, but Louis had no more pennies, and declined the luxury.

"You had better take it young man," said the woman, observing that Louis looked wistfully towards the coffee-pot, "dry bread won't taste very good."

"I have no more money, good woman," said Louis.

"Well, I hope you won't be affronted with me if I ax you to take the coffee without pay; I don't think I should ever be the poorer for't; you look tired, and had better come and sit down and rest, while you drink your coffee."

"Thank God," mentally exclaimed Louis as he gratefully accepted the proffered kindness, "that disinterested benevolence exists among mankind. You are very kind," said he to the woman, " and just now, I have great need of friends."

"I was afeared you did," said the woman, "you looked sort o' troubled, and that was what made me venter to ax you to take the coffee. I should