am not aware of what has become of the young
men."

"Then they are not dead--I thought not!" exclaimed the man, joyously.

"That's more than I can say. It's many years since I lost sight of the
only one I ever saw; and they may be both dead for what I know."

"Indeed!" said the man. "Then you can give me no kind of--of--hint like,
to find them out?"

"No. Do they owe you anything?"

"It does not signify talking now, sir. I beg your pardon."

"Stay--who are you?"

"I am a very poor man, sir."

Mr. Morton recoiled.

"Poor! Oh, very well--very well. You have done with me now. Good
day--good day. I'm busy."

The stranger pecked for a moment at his hat--turned the handle of the
door-peered under his grey eyebrows at the portly trader, who, with both
hands buried in his pockets, his mouth pursed up, like a man about to
say "No" fidgeted uneasily behind Mrs. Morton's chair. He sighed, shook
his head, and vanished.

Mrs. Morton rang the bell-the maid-servant entered. "Wipe the carpet,
Jenny;--dirty feet! Mr. Morton, it's a Brussels!"

"It was not my fault, my dear. I could not talk about family matters
before the whole shop. Do you know, I'd quite forgot those poor boys.
This unsettles me. Poor Catherine! she was so fond of them. A pretty boy
that Sidney, too. What can have become of them? My heart rebukes me. I
wish I had asked the man more."

"More!--why he was just going to beg."

"Beg--yes--very true!" said Mr. Morton, pausing irresolutely; and then,
with a hearty tone, he cried out, "And, damme, if he had begged, I could
afford him a shilling! I'll go after him." So saying, he hastened back
through the shop, but the man was gone--the rain was falling, Mr. Morton
had his thin shoes on--he blew his nose, and went back to the counter.
But, there, still rose to his memory the pale face of his dead sister;
and a voice murmured in his ear, "Brother, where is my child?"

"Pshaw! it is not my fault if he ran away. Bob, go and get me the county
paper."

Mr. Morton had again settled himself, and was deep in a trial for
murder, when another stranger strode haughtily into the shop. The
new-comer, wrapped in a pelisse of furs, with a thick moustache, and
an eye that took in the whole shop, from master to boy, from ceiling to
floor, in a glance, had the air at once of a foreigner and a soldier.
Every look fastened on him, as he paused an instant, and then walking up
to the alderman, said,--

"Sir, you are doubtles