ght be valuably reflected over
this heathen world. Like many other very excellent ladies, however, she
has no candles for a heathen world outside of Antioch."

Mr. Toddleworth escorts her safely into Centre street, and directs her
to the House of the Foreign Missions.

"Thank you! thank you!--may God never let you want a shilling," he says,
bowing and touching his hat as Mrs. Swiggs puts four shillings into his
left hand.

"One shilling, Madam," he pursues, with a smile, "will get me a new
collar. A clean collar now and then, it must be said, gives a body a
look of respectability."

Mr. Toddleworth has a passion for new collars, regards them as a means
of sustaining his respectability. Indeed, he considers himself in full
dress with one mounted, no matter how ragged the rest of his wardrobe.
And when he walks out of a morning, thus conditioned, his friends greet
him with: "Hi! ho! Mister Toddleworth is uppish this morning." He has
bid his charge good morning, and hurries back to his wonted haunts.
There is a mysterious and melancholy interest in this man's history,
which many have attempted but failed to fathom. He was once heard to say
his name was not Toddleworth--that he had sunk his right name in his
sorrows. He was sentimental at times, always used good language, and
spoke like one who had seen better days and enjoyed a superior
education. He wanted, he would say, when in one of his melancholy moods,
to forget the world, and have the world forget him. Thus he shut himself
up in the Points, and only once or twice had he been seen in the Bowery,
and never in Broadway during his sojourn among the denizens who swarm
that vortex of death. How he managed to obtain funds, for he was never
without a shilling, was equally involved in mystery. He had no very bad
habits, seemed inoffensive to all he approached, spoke familiarly on
past events, and national affairs, and discovered a general knowledge of
the history of the world. And while he was always ready to share his
shilling with his more destitute associates, he ever maintained a degree
of politeness and civility toward those he was cast among not common to
the place. He was ready to serve every one, would seek out the sick and
watch over them with a kindness almost paternal, discovering a singular
familiarity with the duties of a physician. He had, however, an
inveterate hatred of fashionable wives; and whenever the subject was
brought up, which it frequently was by