you can yet be saved. Do it for my sake, for, in spite of all your
faults, I love you, and you are my father."

The first words of affection which had greeted his ear for many long
years made the wretched man weep, as he answered: "Lenora, I have
sworn to reform, and I will keep my vow. During one of my drunken
revels, in St. Louis, a dream of home came over me, and when I became
sober I started for Connecticut. There I heard where and what your
mother was. I had no wish ever to meet her again, for though I greatly
erred in my conduct toward her, I think she was always the most to
blame. You I remembered with love, and I longed to see you once more,
to hear again the word 'father,' and know that I was not forgotten. I
came as far as the city, and there fell into temptation. For the last
two months I have been there, gambling and drinking, until I lost all,
even the clothes which I wore, and was compelled to assume these rags.
I am now without home or money, and have no place to lay my head."

"I can give you money," said Lenora. "Meet me here to-morrow night,
and you shall have all you want. But what do you purpose doing? Where
will you stay?"

"In the village, for the sake of being near you," said he, at the same
time bidding his daughter return to the house, as the night air was
damp and chilly.

Within a week from that time a middle-aged man, calling himself John
Robinson, appeared in the village, hiring himself out as a porter at
one of the hotels. There was a very striking resemblance between him
and Lenora Carter, which was noticed by the villagers, and mentioned
to Mrs. Hamilton, who, however, could never obtain a full view of the