ngs by making
further enquiries, followed him in silence, til they arrived at the
Fleet prison.

The officer enquired for Captain Eldridge: a person led them up several
pair of dirty stairs, and pointing to a door which led to a miserable,
small apartment, said that was the Captain's room, and retired.

The officer, whose name was Blakeney, tapped at the door, and was bid to
enter by a voice melodiously soft. He opened the door, and discovered to
Temple a scene which rivetted him to the spot with astonishment.

The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, was
neat in the extreme. In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon his hand,
his eyes fixed on a book which lay open before him, sat an aged man in
a Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, would sooner call a
blush of shame into the face of those who could neglect real merit, than
cause the hectic of confusion to glow on the cheeks of him who wore it.

Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount. She was
fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her cheek before it
was half blown. Her eyes were blue; and her hair, which was light brown,
was slightly confined under a plain muslin cap, tied round with a black
ribbon; a white linen gown and plain lawn handkerchief composed
the remainder of her dress; and in this simple attire, she was more
irresistibly charming to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have
been, if adorned with all the splendor of a courtly belle.

When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking Blakeney
by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; and there
being but three in the room, seated himself on the side of his little
bed with evident composure.

"This is a strange place," said he to Temple, "to receive visitors of
distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station. While I am
not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush
at my situation? Our misfortunes are not our faults; and were it not for
that poor girl--"

Here the philosopher was lost in the father. He rose hastily from his
seat, and walking toward the window, wiped off a tear which he was
afraid would tarnish the cheek of a sailor.

Temple cast his eye on Miss Eldridge: a pellucid drop had stolen from
her eyes, and fallen upon a rose she was painting. It blotted and
discoloured the flower. "'Tis emblematic," said he mentally: "the rose
of youth and health