twisted furniture dazzled and bewildered his
senses. All was so strange, so strange; nowhere
a familiar object to give rest to the
wearied eye. Wherever he looked he saw his
shabbily attired figure repeated in the long
crystal mirrors, and he became uncomfortably
conscious of his threadbare coat, his uncouth
boots, and the general incongruity of his
appearance. With every moment his uneasiness
grew; and he was vaguely considering the
propriety of a precipitate flight, when the rustle of
a dress at the farther end of the room startled
him, and a small, plump lady, of a daintily
exquisite form, swept up toward him, gave a
slight inclination of her head, and sank down
into an easy-chair:

"You are Mr. ----, the Norwegian, who
wishes to give music lessons?" she said, holding
a pair of gold-framed eyeglasses up to her eyes,
and running over the note which she held in her
hand. It read as follows:


DEAR MARTHA,--The bearer of this note is a young
Norwegian, I forgot to ascertain his name, a friend of
Olson's. He wishes to teach music. If you can help the
poor devil and give him something to do, you will oblige,
Yours, H. V. K.