r turn.
Any considerable rise in shares would place Bullion on his feet and
enable him to resume payment. Most of his time-contracts had been met,
and the change would be of the greatest service to him. He placed his
shares, therefore, in Tonsor's hands with instructions to sell when
prices advanced. He then looked over the amount of his liabilities, and
saw, with some of his old exultation, that, if he could effect sales
at the rates he expected, he should have at least two hundred thousand
dollars after paying all his debts. Ambition again whispered to him,
that he might now take his old place in the business world, and perhaps
might more than retrieve his losses. But he thought of the last night,
and shrank from encountering a new brood of horrors. Firm in his new
purpose, he dismissed the broker and sent for his counsellor.

"My son," he meditated, "is a lawyer in good practice. He needs no
fortune. Twenty thousand will be enough for him; more than I had, which
wasn't a penny. My daughter is married rich. Didn't mean to have any
pauper son-in-law to be plaguing me. The same for her. The rest will
square those old accounts,--and the new one, too, on the book up yonder!
Best to fix it now, while I can muster the courage. If I once get the
money, I'm afraid I shouldn't do it. So my will shall set all these
matters right; and it shall be drawn and signed to-day."

That night Mr. Bullion needed no servant to watch with him. The ghosts
were laid.

[To be concluded in the next number.]

* * * * *

INSCRIPTION

FOR AN ALMS-CHEST MADE OF CAMPHOR-WOOD.

This fragrant box that breathes of India's balms
Hath one more fragrance, for it asketh alms;
But, though 'tis sweet and blessed to receive,
You know who said, "It is more blest to give":
Give, then, receive His blessing,--and for me
Thy silent boon sufficient blessing be!
If Ceylon's isle, that bears the bleeding trees,
With any perfume load the Orient breeze,--
If Heber's Muse, by Ceylon as he sailed,
A pleasant odor from the shore inhaled,--
More lives in me; for underneath my lid
A sweetness as of sacrifice is hid.

Thou gentle almoner, in passing by,
Smell of my wood, and scan me with thine eye;--
I, too, from Ceylon bear a spicy breath
That might put warmness in the lungs of death;
A simple chest of scented wood I seem,
But, oh! within me lurks a golden beam,--

A beam celestial, an