leave, therefore, he seized one of Hans's hands with a cordial gripe
that was felt through every limb, and into the other he put a bag of one
thousand rix dollars, saying, "My sister ought not to have come
dowerless into a good husband's house. This is properly her own: take
it, and much good may it do you."

Our story need not be prolonged. The new tailor soon fled before the
star of Hans's ascendency. A very few years saw him installed into the
office of Buergermeister, the highest of earthly honors in his eyes; and
if he had one trouble left, it was only in the reflection that he might
have attained his wishes years before had he understood the heart of a
good woman. The worshipful Herr Buergermeister, and Frau Buergermeisterin
of Rapps, often visited their colossal brother of the Boehmerwald, and
were thought to reflect no discredit on the old bergman family.

[From Dickens's "Household Words."]

LITTLE MARY.--A TALE OF THE IRISH FAMINE.

That was a pleasant place where I was born, though 'twas only a thatched
cabin by the side of a mountain stream, where the country was so lonely,
that in summer time the wild ducks used to bring their young ones to
feed on the bog, within a hundred yards of our door; and you could not
stoop over the bank to raise a pitcher full of water, without
frightening a shoal of beautiful speckled trout. Well, 'tis long ago
since my brother Richard, that's now grown a fine, clever man, God bless
him! and myself, used to set off together up the mountain to pick
bunches of the cotton plant and the bog myrtle, and to look for birds'
and wild bees' nests. 'Tis long ago--and though I'm happy and well off
now, living in the big house as own maid to the young ladies, who, on
account of my being foster-sister to poor darling Miss Ellen, that died
of decline, treat me more like their equal than their servant, and give
me the means to improve myself; still, at times, especially when James
Sweeney, a dacent boy of the neighbors, and myself are taking a walk
together through the fields in the cool and quiet of a summer's evening,
I can't help thinking of the times that are passed, and talking about
them to James with a sort of peaceful sadness, more happy, maybe, than
if we ware laughing aloud.

Every evening, before I say my prayers, I read a chapter in the Bible
that Miss Ellen gave me; and last night I felt my tears dropping forever
so long over one verse, "And God shall wipe away all tear