terrupted by a sudden exclamation from her aunt.

"Clarissa has been at death's door," cried Miss Euphemia, startled out
of her usual composure. "I knew this long silence boded no good. Listen,
I will read it," and the three girls gathered round her chair at once.

"Dear and Honored Aunt" (ran the letter), "I take up my pen, after many
days of pain and dire distress, to send loving greetings to you, my
Beloved father, and my dear sisters. For the hand of death was nearly
upon me; thank God that I am still preserved to my dear Husband and to
you.

"It was a very malignant and severe attack of Fever, and Gulian procured
the services of no less than three Physicians, as for days I laid
unconscious. My little baby died at two hours old, and I never saw him.
Alas, how I have suffered! I am now very weak, altho' able to be dressed
and sit up each day. This is my first letter; and I pine so sorely for
you, my dear ones, that my dear Husband permits me to write, and begs
with me that you will permit one of my sisters to come to me and cheer
my heart"--

"Come to her! Good lack!" cried impetuous Betty, interrupting the
reader, "how is one to go when the British are in occupation?"--

"How, indeed," sighed Miss Euphemia; "but perhaps the letter will tell,"
and she resumed her reading, after wiping her eyes softly. "Where was
I?--oh"--

"Father will no doubt be able to procure a pass from General Washington,
which will admit the bearer into the City, and Gulian will himself be
ready when you advise us, and will await you at King's Bridge Inn. Dear
Aunt, send me some one soon, and let me see a dear home face, else I
shall die of grief and homesickness, far from my own people.

"Your loving and obedient niece,

"CLARISSA VERPLANCK."

By this time Pamela was sobbing aloud, and tears flowed down Miss
Euphemia's cheeks, but Betty sprang to her feet with a little impatient
stamp, crying,--

"Aunt, aunt, which of us shall go? Pamela, you are a gentle and charming
nurse; shall it be you?"

"I!" sighed Pamela; "oh, I would go to the world's end for Clarissa."

"But this is to go to New York," cried Betty, with unconscious irony;
"and as we can neither of us go alone, why could not my father arrange
for one of us to accompany Mrs. Seymour, who leaves shortly to be near
her brother for the winter? Did you not tell me, Sally, that she was
going to New York?"

"Yes," answered Sally Tracy, "she has been making all manner of
pre