met you for the last time about two weeks ago, and that you refused
to speak to her. May we ask the reason."

"You may, certainly," was calmly replied.

Expectation was now on tiptoe.

"What, then, was the reason?"

"_I did not see her_."

"What? Didn't you refuse to speak to her?"

"Never in my life. I esteem Mrs. Jones too highly. If I passed her,
as you say, without speaking, it was because I did not see her."

In less than half an hour, Mrs. Todd was at the house of Mrs. Jones.
What passed between the ladies need not be told.

ALMOST A TRAGEDY.

A REMINISCENCE OF MR. JOHN JONES.

IT is now about five years since I met with a little adventure in
the West, which may be worth relating. It caused me a good deal of
excitement at first; regrets afterward, for the temporary pain I
inflicted, and many a hearty laugh since. New things come up so
rapidly that it is almost impossible to keep the run of them, and it
is not at all surprising that those who are content to go along in
the good old way should now and then be caught napping. I own that I
was, completely.

Business took me out West, in the spring of 18--, and kept me in
Ohio for the entire summer of that year. After a hard day's ride, in
the month of August, I entered, just before nightfall, a certain
town lying on the National Road, where I expected to remain for a
week. After taking possession of my room at the hotel; shaving,
washing, and improving my appearance in other respects, I came down
and took a seat in the porch that ran along the front of the house.
I had not been here very long before the stage from the East drove
up, and the passengers, who were to take supper, as this was a
stage-house, alighted. Among them, I noticed a woman with a pale,
emaciated, and, I would have said, dying child in her arms. Her face
was anxious and haggard in its expression. She was accompanied by a
man, whom I rightly supposed to be her husband. He immediately went
to the bar and engaged a room, saying that his child was too sick to
permit them to continue their journey.

"Do you wish a doctor?" asked the landlord.

"No," replied the man. "We have medicine, prescribed by our own
physician before we left home. If that does no good, we have little
confidence in any other remedies."

No more was said. The man was shown to his room, whither he retired
with his wife and sick child. The room, it so happened, was next to
mine, and the two rooms communicate