ll the fine sights
she saw.

The shop-keepers flew round as if they had St. Vitus' dance, when Mrs.
Simon's carriage stopped at their door, with the glossy, sleek-coated
horses and their silver-mounted harness, and the liveried servants.
They bowed and smirked, and skipped round, and pulled little "Cash's"
ears for not getting her "change" quicker, and offered to send home
any, and all, and every bundle she chose to order, quicker than chain
lightning, if it were only a paper of No. 6 needles.

When she got into her carriage again, and rode down Broadway, whiskered
gentlemen on the pavement hoisted their beavers, and bent themselves as
low as their corsets would possibly allow, and ladies nodded, and
showed their pretty little teeth, and declared that Mrs. Simon was "a
perfect little love."

From all this show and luxury, she came down to an empty purse, and a
widow's weeds. Her husband lost all his property at once. Money was all
the poor man had ever cared for. He had not the courage to live and
look his misfortune boldly in the face, but took his own life, (like a
coward,) and left his dainty wife and child to bear _alone_ the cross
that his manly shoulders couldn't carry.

Well, Mrs. Simon buried her husband, and then looked about her for her
friends; but alas! they had all fled, like butterflies, with the
sunshine. Her fine house, furniture and carriage and horses, were all
taken from her, to pay her husband's debts; and she wandered forth, no
one knew whither.

My dear children, it is a very sad thing to be proud and poor. Mrs.
Simon was very proud. She could not make up her mind to work. She
fancied, poor mistaken woman, that it would degrade her. She didn't see
that all whose opinion is worth caring for, would respect her the more,
for her striving to earn bread for herself and her child.

So she sat and cried, and worried herself almost sick, instead of
looking at little Rosa, and then stepping out, with a brave heart, and
saying: I have been rich; I am now poor:--I want some work to do. She
couldn't bring her mind to _that_; so, as I told you, she disappeared,
nobody knew whither, and the world went on just the same without her.

Other gay carriages rolled up and down Broadway, with the glittering
harness, and sleek horses, and pampered servants; bearing ladies as gay
and as pretty as Mrs. Simon. None of them asked what had become of
their old friend; they were all too busy about their own affairs;
fr