not a happy New Year."

Scarcely had Mr. Edgar passed the dwelling of his unfortunate debtor,
when the latter, who had been walking the floor of his parlor in a
troubled state of mind, came to the window and stood by his child, who
was as dear to him as a child could be to the heart of a father.
"Happy New Year, papa!" It was the third time since morning dawned
that he had received this greeting from the same sweet lips. Mr. James
tried to give back the same glad greeting, but the words seemed to
choke him, and failed in the utterance. As the two stood by the
window, the wife and mother came up, and leaning against her husband,
looked forth with a sad heart. Oh, no! it was not a happy New Year's
morning to them. Long before the dawn of another year, they must go
forth from their pleasant home; and both their hearts shrunk back in
fear from the dark beyond.

"Good morning, dear," said Mr. James, soon afterward, as, with hat and
coat and muffler on, he stood ready to go forth to meet the business
trials of the day. His voice was depressed, and his countenance sad.

The business assigned to that day was a painful one for Mr. James. The
only creditor who had commenced a suit was Mr. Edgar, he having
declined entering into any arrangement with the other creditors,
coldly saying that, in his opinion, "the first loss was always the
best loss," and that extensions were, in most cases, equivalent to the
abandonment of a claim. He was willing to take what the law would give
him. Pursuant to this view, a suit had been brought, and the debtor,
to anticipate the result, confessed judgment to two of his largest
creditors, who honorably bound themselves to see that a _pro rata_
division was made of all his effects.

The business of this New Year's Day was to draw up as complete a
statement as possible of his affairs, and Mr. James went about the
work with a heavy heart. He had been engaged in this way for over an
hour, when one of his clerks came to the desk where he was writing,
and handed him a letter, which a lad had just brought in. He broke the
seal with a nervous foreboding of trouble; for, of late, these letters
by the hands of private messengers had been frequent, and rarely of an
agreeable character. From the envelope, as he commenced withdrawing
the letter, there dropped upon the desk a narrow piece of paper,
folded like a bill. He took it up with almost reluctant fingers, and
slowly pressed back the ends so as to read