y cent she could get to Mrs. Brown--every one; to do
everything Mrs. Brown asked her to do; and she called her over and over
again "_good_ lady," and "_dear_ lady."

Mrs. Brown kept on talking too fast to be understood. She was very
angry, and slapped Biddy's cheeks, and pushed her toward the cellar.
Biddy stumbled along as she was pushed, and kept on praying for her
doll, and making every promise she could think of to the old woman. When
they reached the cellar steps, Charley pulled Mrs. Brown's dress, showed
her a bright new quarter dollar, and said she might have it if she would
give up the doll to Biddy.

Mrs. Brown took the quarter, looked at it, rang it on the step, and then
handed the doll to Biddy, telling her that she might have it that night,
but that she must pay extra every day for what she called the
"craythur's boord an' lodgin'."

This idea seemed to please Mrs. Brown very much, for she called it a
great joke, and put her hands on her hips and laughed. Then she looked
savage again, and said, she would keep the doll herself on nights when
Biddy could not pay extra. She went off to her fruit stand, with her
hands on her hips, laughing and muttering by turns. Biddy sat down with
her doll. Now and then she looked at Charley and smiled, and seemed to
be thinking very hard about something.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

NEW YORK PRISONS IN 1776-77.

Those who tread the floor of what was recently the Post-office, once the
great Middle Dutch Church, and now a Brokers' Exchange, at the corner of
Nassau Street and Cedar, can scarcely believe that it was once a
military prison, that its walls re-echoed the groans and cries of sick
and dying patriots, that a large part of Washington's army was once
confined on the very spot where now the broker is calling his stocks and
the photographer fitting his lenses. The fine church in 1776 was
converted at once into a royal prison. Its pews were torn out, its
interior defaced, but the walls are the same that shut in the
unfortunate Americans, and their only shelter was the lofty roof that
still rises among the haunts of trade. The ancient building is one of
the most touching of the historical remains of the early city. The
number of persons shut up at once within its precincts is variously
estimated; one account gives 800, another 3000, as the probable limit.
It is certain that they were crowded in with no care for comfort, no
regard for health or ease; that one aim of th