ng this intelligence was forthwith dispatched by my mother to
Sir Hercules, who sent a short reply, stating that if I conducted myself
properly he would not lose sight of me. This letter, however, very much
increased the family consequence in Fisher's Alley, for my mother did
not fail to show it to everybody, and everybody was anxious to see the
handwriting of a real baronet.

About a week afterward I went to the shop of the widow St. Felix to
purchase some tobacco for my father, when she said to me, "So, Jack--or
Tom--as I hear you request to be called now--you are going to leave us?"

"Yes," replied I, "and I shall be sorry to leave you, you have been so
kind to me."

"A little kindness goes a great way with some people, Tom, and that's
the case with you, for you've a grateful heart. You're to be a pilot, I
hear; well, Tom, I've a present to make you, which you will find very
useful in your profession, and which will make you think of me
sometimes. Stop a moment till I come down again."

The widow went upstairs, and when she came down held in her hand a
telescope, or spy-glass, as sailors generally call them. It was about
two feet long, covered with white leather, and apparently had been well
preserved.

"Now, Tom, this is what a pilot ought not to be without, and if what was
said by the person to whom it belonged is true, it is an excellent
spy-glass; so now accept it from your loving friend, and long may you
live to peep through it."

"Thank you, thank you," replied I, delighted, as Mrs. St. Felix put it
into my hands. I surveyed it all over, pulled out the tube, and then
said to her, "Who did it belong to?"

"Tom," replied the widow, "that's a sad trick you have of asking
questions; it's quite sufficient that it is mine, and that I give it to
you--is it not?"

"Yes," replied I, "but you're the only person who says that I ask too
many questions. Why, here's a name, F.I."

The widow stretched herself over the counter with a sudden spring, and
snatched the telescope out of my hand. When I looked at her she stood
pale and trembling.

"Why, what is the matter?" inquired I.

She put her hand to her side, as if in great pain, and for some seconds
could not speak.

"Tom, I never knew that there was a name on the telescope; the name must
not be known, that's the truth; you shall have it this evening, but you
must go away now--do, that's a dear good boy."

The widow turned to walk into the back parlor, with