"Well, well, yer honor, many's the good penny ye have given me and the
childer, and maybe the next time I see you you'll have more change."

She was turning sadly away, when John Lawson requested her to remain,
and he made inquiries into the state of her family; the report
he heard seemed to touch him even to the forgetfulness of his own
sorrows; he bade her stop for a few moments and he would give her some
relief.

He walked rapidly toward the house and proceeded to the drawing-room.
It was a large and airy apartment, and furnished with evident
profusion; the sunlight of the bright summer-day, admitted partially
through the amply-draperied windows, lit up a variety of sparkling
gilding in picture-frames, and vases, and mirrors, and cornices; but
John Lawson looked round on the gay scene with a kind of shudder; he
had neither gold, silver, nor even copper in his pocket, or in his
possession.

He advanced to a lady who reclined on a rose-colored sofa, with a
fashionable novel in her hand, and after some slight hesitation he
addressed her, and stating the name and wants of the poor woman who
had begged for aid, he requested some money.

As he said the words "some money," his lips quivered, and a tremor
ran through his whole frame, for his thoughts were vividly picturing
a recently departed period, when he was under no necessity of asking
money from any individual.

"Bless me, my dear Mr. Lawson!" cried the lady, starting up from her