th a deep sigh.

To a man of his mental activity the loss of almost the sole object of
his thoughts created an aching void, and yet so hopeful was he in spite
of the constant repetition of blasted hopes and unfilled desire that
two or three days after the occurrences just narrated he had resolved
on a new plan of action.

"Poons and Jenny shall marry at once," said he as he arose that morning
and dressed himself to go to the rehearsal of a new songstress at the
Museum.

"The son of your old friend and the niece of your good landlady shall
mark a new epoch for you, Barwig. You overrated yourself, you loved
the daughter of millions, you lived beyond your means, my friend. Now
it is time you lived within your income," he said, looking at himself
in the glass, as he combed his grey hair. "Love Jenny and Poons; poor
little neglected ones, you had forgotten their existence! No more
extravagances, no more reaching for the impossible! Here down in
Houston Street is your life! It is your own, live it! Don't go after
the fleshpots of Fifth Avenue, don't cheapen yourself that servants and
lackeys may insult and deride you."

Yet ever as he spoke, a mental image of his beloved pupil came before
him, and his heart sank as he thought that he should never see her
again.

"Why has a mere thought, a stray idea the power to make us so unhappy?"
he asked himself. This question was still unanswered when there came
into his mind the memory of the unfortunate young woman he had met on
Union Square a few nights before. Her misery, her agony of mind, the
crying babe, all came before him in a flash. "My God, when I think of
her, I am ashamed of myself! Here I howl and tear my hair and rail at
fortune because I lose something that I never had; she was never
mine--this girl of millions--I had no right to her. But the sufferings
of that poor child-wife are real, deep, heartrending; and there are
thousands of others like her in this world. Get up, sluggard, get up!
Go out and comfort them; go out into the world and mend broken hearts.
It is your trade! You have qualified, for your own is battered to
pieces."

This idea gave him peace of mind for a short time, but presently his
thoughts ran into the old groove. Try as he would he could not direct
them away from the line of easiest mental resistance.

"If I could only see her once again," he thought, "perhaps I could
explain away the cause of our separation. Perhaps I--" and