g of
small-pox."

"Small-pox!"

"Yes _sir_! I have attended her during the last five nights, and fear
that I am infected with the disease; but I am willing to lose my life in
the holy cause of charity."

"Good God, sir! You will communicate the disease to _me_! Let go my
hand, sir, and leave this house before you load the air with
pestilence!"

"No, _sir_! I couldn't think of leaving until you have done something
for the relief of that distressed widow and her twelve small children."

"D----n the distressed widow and--bless my soul! what am I saying? My
good young man, what will satisfy you?"

"Five dollars, reverend sir."

"Here, then, here is the money. Now go, go quickly. Every moment that
you remain here is pregnant with evil. Pray make haste!"

"But won't you come and pray with the distressed widow and her--"

"No! If I do may I be--blessed! _Will_ you go!"

"I'm off, old Porkhead!"

With these words I bolted out of the library, stumbled over a corpulent
cat that was quietly reposing on the landing, descended the stairs in
two leaps, upset the fat flunkey in the hall, and gained the street in
safety with my booty--a five dollar city bill. I hastened back towards
the residence of Mrs. Raymond, but stopped at an eating-saloon on the
way and loaded myself with provisions ready cooked. I did not forget to
purchase two bottles of excellent wine. Thus provided, I entered the
apartment of Mrs. Raymond, who received me with a smile of gratitude and
joy which I shall never forget.

We sat down to the table with sharp appetites, and did full justice to
the repast, which was really most excellent. The wine raised our
spirits, and, forgetting our misfortunes, merrily did we chat about old
times in New York, carefully omitting the slightest allusion to the
bloody affair in William street. When we had finished one bottle, Mrs.
Raymond favored me with an air upon her harp, which she played with
exquisite skill. After executing a brilliant Italian waltz, she played
and sang that plaintive song:

"The light of other days have faded,
And all their glory's past."

Just as the song was finished, there came a loud knocking at the door.

"It is my landlady," said Mrs. Raymond, in a low tone, "conceal
yourself, and you will see how she treats me."

I stepped into the closet; but through a crevice in the door I could see
all that transpired.

A fat, vulgar-looking woman entered with a consequential air, and a fa