tape. "Oh, the papers--now, my
dears, let uncle go. Gustave, let go your hold of my leg, or I can't get
up. Amy, ring the bell, dear." This operation Mr. Moyese was obliged to
lift her into the chair to effect, where she remained tugging at the
bell-rope until she was lifted out again by the servant, who came running
in great haste to answer a summons of such unusual vigour.

"Tell George I want him," said Mr. Moyese.

"He's gone down to the office; I hearn him say suffin bout de nordern mail
as he went out--but I duno what it was"--and as he finished he vanished
from the apartment, and might soon after have been seen with his mouth in
close contact with the drumstick of a turkey.

Mr. Moyese being now released from the children, took his way to the
office, with the portentous red-tape document that was to so greatly change
the condition of George Winston in his coat pocket. The old man sat down at
his desk, smiling, as he balanced the papers in his hand, at the thought of
the happiness he was about to confer on his favourite. He was thus engaged
when the door opened, and George entered, bearing some newly-arrived orders
from European correspondents, in reference to which he sought Mr. Moyese's
instructions.

"I think, sir," said he, modestly, "that we had better reply at once to
Ditson, and send him the advance he requires, as he will not otherwise be
able to fill these;" and as he concluded he laid the papers on the table,
and stood waiting orders respecting them.

Mr. Moyese laid down the packet, and after looking over the papers George
had brought in, replied: "I think we had. Write to him to draw upon us for
the amount he requires.--And, George," he continued, looking at him
benevolently, "what would you like for a New-year's present?"

"Anything you please, sir," was the respectful reply.

"Well, George," resumed Mr. Moyese, "I have made up my mind to make you a
present of----" here he paused and looked steadily at him for a few
seconds; and then gravely handing him the papers, concluded, "of yourself,
George! Now mind and don't throw my present away, my boy." George stood
for some moments looking in a bewildered manner, first at his master, then
at the papers. At last the reality of his good fortune broke fully upon
him, and he sank into a chair, and unable to say more than: "God bless you,
Mr. Moyese!" burst into tears.

"Now you are a pretty fellow," said the old man, sobbing himself, "it's
nothing to