The mother and child were taking their last journey together, they were going through beautiful Greenwood, for the undertaker had received orders, in a letter enclosing money and directions, to bury the dead in that spot.

as

Had Nepenthe raised her head, as she came out of the gate, she might have seen the tall form of the watcher, she stood near the door of the nearest marble shop, muttering, "Well, she is dead, she is buried. It is as well, after all. There isn't room enough in this world for her and for me. The air choked me, while she breathed it. But there goes the undertaker," she added in a whisper. Yes, yes, he may well be called undertaker, for he takes us all under." The woman had a card in her hand, it was—

TRAP, FOGG & CRAFT."

"Well," said she, going on her way, "I've business enough for them now."

Though Mrs. Stuart had been some time ill, her death was sudden and unexpected; so much so, that there was a post mortem examination. She was heard to exclaim the morning of her death, that her "heart was breaking." The examination proved the correctness of her feelings.

The tremendous propulsion of the blood, consequent upon some violent nervous shock forced the powerful muscular tissues asunder, and life was at an end. Her heart had

literally burst open.

Some months after Mrs. Stuart's death a stranger passing through one of the sylvan dells in beautiful Greenwood, stopped to read this one word plainly carved upon a new marble slab over a not yet grass-grown grave

"CAROLINE."

A lady elegantly dressed, stood a long time by the grave, one pleasant morning, gazing intently at the simple inscription; she turned away, saying to herself, "She can never be identified, from that stone or its inscription. No man shall know where Caroline Stuart sleeps after life's fitful fever.' She shall sleep well and undisturbed."

The lady was too much absorbed in thought, to notice that a card had fallen from her half open card case, and

was lying on the ground. An old gentleman passing by a few moments after, picked up and read

"MRS. CLARA ELLIOTT,

"Thursdays."

"Fifth Avenue.

With scornful eye, firm step, and haughty bearing, the lady passed out of the portals of Greenwood, and took her seat by the side of a beautiful child, who was waiting in a carriage outside for her mother. The beautiful child was a perfect copy of the beautiful woman.

There was a gentleman in the carriage, and no one who had once seen him could mistake him for anybody else. It was Mr. John Trap, smiling and talking in his low tones, as plausible as ever.

CHAPTER V.

MRS. JOHN PRIDEFIT'S MURMURS, PERAMBULATIONS, CHARITIES.

"If I have money, I buy books; if I have any left, I buy food and ERASMUS. clothes."

MRS. JOHN PRIDEFIT was trying to decide whether a Tyrian purple, or a gay plaid ribbon would look the best on her new spring bonnet.

She sat quietly thinking, it was very still outside-nothing but the oyster man's most melancholy cry, prolonged and "That doleful, broke the unusual stillness of the night. man's oysters must have a solemn taste," thought she, as laying down the ribbon, and rocking impatiently back and Oh dear! ho, forth, she broke out into an emphatic hum!"

What is the matter, my dear ?" said Mr. Pridefit looking up from his evening paper, which he had been reading about ten minutes, is your neuralgia worse?"

"that for one month at

I do wish," said Mrs. Pridefit, least, there could be no newspapers,"

Every woman finds out after marriage, that a man's first love was his newspaper.

"Mr. Pridefit, you read when you are sick, you read when you are well, you read before breakfast and after breakfast, you read at dinner, you read in the cars. I'd like to know when can I find you without a paper; every mortal man must have a paper in his hat, or in his vest or coat pocket; and the moment he sits down, there is his paper, like a shadow before him. You're always waiting for the last of the Tribunes, the newest Herald or the latest Times. I'd like to see the last of these Tribunes, and I wish some final Herald would announce that the dull Times were over, and

that the last of Tribunes was about to appear. You say it is in the way of business, to keep up with affairs-there are things of local interest, and general importance, national politics, latest intelligence by telegraph, market, elections, commercial affairs, bank dividends, public needs, quack medicines, police reports, of all things these police reports. Michael kills Patrick one day, and then the next day, some other Patrick kills Michael. Then there's a supplement to the Times, a journal extra, which men must say they've read, of course. Handsome books with fashion-plates or stories, are so much more attractive to look at than this endless black and white. Then they don't litter up the house So. The week you were away, John, I thought it was a pity for the paper to come every day, and no body to read itso one rainy morning, I resolved to read one all through for once, and find out what was this wonderful charm. I read every thing, even to the general markets. I can't see for my life, how whiskey was quiet yesterday, and steady today; that Timothy was firm I understand; (that must mean Timothy Titus, he's the firmest man in town I ever saw,) and that tallow was flat, that is why the candles run down so in the kitchen last night. I can see how sugar is quiet with a downward tendency-but how rice is more animated, and cotton dull-how Scotch pig is quiet, I can't tell. It must be an uncommonly taciturn pig, and then how does Marsh dry Caloric for three dollars and fifty cents? I don't understand these general markets. I can't go into a car, but my ears are stunned with the bedlam cries of noisy urchins screeching out, Eagle, one cent,' Morning Herald,' or Herald,' or 'Weekly Tribune.' Won't these newspapers

You

ever get out of fashion? Why, yesterday morning when I rode down with you, John, you actually had three sticking out of your pocket, and were reading one besides. never said a word to me the whole way, and I kept nudging you to look at Miss Gouge's new brown bonnet. A fan is a good thing for a lady to flirt behind, and a paper is useful in one way to a gentleman. When you are riding home at night, tired, and get nicely fixed in a good seat, if you are deeply absorbed in some leading article in the paper before you, why, you need not see every lady who is standing up in the car, glancing round for some gentleman's seat! I have seen such unconscious gentlemen. It is a great deal of trouble to see all the Irish girls with big baskets, and the fat colored women with their bundles! and the old ladies with their bags; then, when you are not reading the paper in the evening, you are off attending some board meeting.' I wonder what good ail these board meetings do; so far as I can find out, they might as well be so many boards laid together, for any practical purpose. Why, men can't do anything for an object, but they must have a committee to draw up resolutions about it, and then a committee to discuss the resolutions; and then to consummate their wise plans, they get up these board meetings! and form, perhaps, some charitable association just to have great dinners occasionally, and see their names in the paper. If you go to them with any application for some individual's relief, they'll be sure to say that that particular case doesn't come within their organization."

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'Well, Mrs. Pridefit," said her husband, resignedly laying down his paper, "you shall have a hearing; you can be the reporter for the evening."

Mrs Pridefit had been rocking restlessly back and forth, as if anxious to reveal some newly-gathered information. "Where do you think I've been to-day, John ?" said she. "At Stewart's or Madame Flummery's, looking at fashions."

66

No such thing, John, I've not looked at a bonnet, a shawl, or a dress; but I never walked so much in a day in my life. I went up Broadway and down Broadway, and across Broadway, and around Broadway; through the ave nues and over the squares. I visited all the Intelligence Offices, the Bible House, and the Home for the Friendless.

I looked in the Times and the Herald at the wants; climbed up back stairs in the Bowery, and explored basements in Madison and Pearl streets. I've seen English, Scotch, German and Irish of all ages, sizes and descriptions. None suited me. All were respectable, and could do all kinds of work; and accustomed to have ten dollars a month, but they would come to me for eight. Passing up Eighth avenue, I saw some fine sugar almonds in a small toy shop." "Of course," said Mr. Pridefit, knowing her failing in that line, "you laid in a quantity."

"Yes, there's a pound to keep you good natured while you listen," said she, handing him a small package.

Sugar almonds were the only thing in the confectioner's line Mr. Pridefit cared any thing about.

"Well, well!" said Mr. Pridefit, looking wistfully at the evening paper which had fresh news from England, lying on the table before him—" What have the almonds got to do with the girl?"

You want me to

You always talk like a lawyer, John. state the bare facts of the case, just as if I were a witness on the stand, and you cross-questioning me. You've been away all day. I think you might have a few moment's patience for once, and let me tell my story according to the best of my knowledge, information and belief."

"Well, go on and state your case, and swear to it, too, if you've a mind to.”

"As I was turning to go out of the shop," said Mrs. Pridefit, I happened to see on one of the shelves, some of those comical little Quaker pin-cushions, like the one you saw on Mrs. Trap's dressing table, which you admired so much. That was the first I ever saw, and I've wanted one ever since. There were only three left. The woman said the last basket came in last week, and she couldn't get any more, as the lady who made them had died a few days since. While I was deciding which one to take, the one with white, drab, or black bonnet, a woman came in.

66 6

Susan,' said the toy woman, have you found a place for the girl yet?'

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No,' replied the woman, 'she's a nice girl, and willing though she is small, and she grieves so much after her mother. She was in a swoon-like most of the time for a week after she died. Her mother was an industrious smart