you and Em." And he leant back and repeated the
word "home," and paused afterward, as one touches some favourite note upon
an instrument, and then silently listens to its vibrations. "How is Em?" he
asked at length.

"Oh, well--very well," replied Charlie. "She has been busy as a bee ever
since she received your last letter; such a charming room as she has
prepared for you!"

"Ah, Charlie," rejoined Clarence, mournfully, "I shall not live long to
enjoy it, I fear."

"Nonsense!" interrupted Charlie, hopefully; "don't be so desponding, Clary:
here is spring again,--everything is thriving and bursting into new life.
You, too, will catch the spirit of the season, and grow in health and
strength again. Why, my dear fellow," continued he, cheerfully, "you can't
help getting better when we once get hold of you. Mother's gruels, Doctor
Burdett's prescriptions, and Em's nursing, would lift a man out of his
coffin. Come, now, don't let us hear anything more about dying."

Clarence pressed his hand and looked at him affectionately, as though he
appreciated his efforts to cheer him and felt thankful for them; but he
only shook his head and smiled mournfully.

"Let me help your man to get you up. When once you get ashore you'll feel
better, I've no doubt. We are not going to an hotel, but to the house of a
friend who has kindly offered to make you comfortable until you are able to
travel."

With the assistance of Charlie and the servant, Clarence was gradually
prepared to go ashore. He was exceedingly weak, could scarcely totter
across the deck; and it was with some difficulty that they at last
succeeded in placing him safely in the boat. After they landed, a carriage
was soon procured, and in a short time thereafter Clarence was comfortably
established in the house of Charlie's friend.

Their hostess, a dear old motherly creature, declared that she knew exactly
what Clarence needed; and concocted such delicious broths, made such
strengthening gruels, that Clarence could not avoid eating, and in a day
or two he declared himself better than he had been for a month, and felt
quite equal to the journey to Philadelphia.

The last night of their stay in New York was unusually warm; and Clarence
informed Charlie he wished to go out for a walk. "I wish to go a long
distance,--don't think me foolish when I tell you where. I want to look at
the house where little Birdie lives. It may be for the last time. I have a
presentiment that