Endeavor to live a better life than begging, little girl: I can do nothing for you."

The little beggar girl did not dare to say anything more, and went out crying to herself. Then the merchant went to his books. The very next morning he was sitting as before, (for these good men are like clockworks,) and reading the same morning paper, while the snow and wind ran gaily round the corner, racing in the icy air. A paragraph in the paper caught his eye:

"Last night about 9 o'clock, a little girl, dressed in a red frock and old blue bonnet, was found dead at the corner of Main and 150th street. It is supposed she froze to death."

"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the rich merchant, "the very same girl who was here! Really I am deeply grieved. But then the public charities should see to this. I subscribe my part."

And he passed on to the Stock column. But that day he did no business, though he had "subscribed!"

THE CHRISTMAS LETTER-BAG.

In the comfortable room of his comfortable home, far in the north, the young husband sat, watching the servants bringing in the great roast turkey and the plentiful dinner which he would have; though his beautiful wife and darling child were far in the south, spending the winter months at his father-in-law's.

and re

The poor husband raised his eyes ally seemed to see her sitting there, and smiling on him. He almost felt like asking her to be helped to turkey!

"Dear papa," said his little Puss, "we are so far off here that I can't kiss you, you know, or sit in my chair by you. But you can think I am there, dear papa, and kiss me, dear papa."

The poor father rested his arm upon the little chair back, and leaned his head close to it; and no one but himself knew he was resting it in thought upon her sunny curls. Poor father!

XII.

OH GAY NEW YEAR!

They all sat round the fire feeling very sad at the prospect of telling the brave old year good-bye. The fire was burning low, and the embers began to draw their white o ercoats on, and lie down in the cold to die.

"Oh, the good old year," they said. "It was a nice old year: a dear, sweet, glorious old happy year! And now the fire is going out, the new year comes in gloomily, and it will certainly be far less merry than the old. Burn up, fire!"

But the flame did not come-and in the gloom the faces looked very sad, and some of the party must needs sigh. Suddenly the clock struck twelve-the year was dead!

"Oh gay old year," they cried, "Oh sad new year!"

But quickly flashed up merrily the fire; a bundle of dry twigs caught, and a bright rosy flame lit up the room with warmth and light

He sat down, and the cold wind without made everything around him more comfortable. He ate his dinner in solitary loneli-most gloriously. And all cried : ness, thinking of his wife now far away.

Oh no! the brave old year is bright!

year!"

L. I. L.

"If Julia were only there in the chair op- good bye, old year: welcome, O young gay posite me," he said, smiling sadly, "and my little darling Puss here in the small chair, with the book in it, (for he would have it set to table,) I should be so happy!"

A servant came in bringing the letter-bag from the post-office: he snatched it eagerly; and out jumped two letters which he gaily tore open, and read:

"I shall sit with you on Christmas day at dinner, recollect," she said-his wife-"in the old chair facing you, you know, George."

November, 1852.

THE OLD BRICK QUARTERS.

BY E. Y. H.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

There are many sensations which come to us we know not why, and the nature of which seems to baffle investigation. Of this description is the impression not unfrequently described, that the circumstances of a passing event are but the repetition of what we have already seen and heard at another time, so that we even seem to anticipate the next thing to be said or done in the succession. And similar to this feeling is that of which many persons are conscious, on entering a new place, that it has been the scene of something strange and terrible; or in other words, that it has a story to tell, were there a tongue to give it utterance.

To a vague experience of this sort, and to the curiosity which it awakened, I owe my knowledge of the events which are embodied in the following tale, almost in the words of the narrator. And, however superstitious it may be, I cannot divest myself of the idea that the tragic occurrences have left their impress upon the old walls which beheld them.

I

In my early youth I was visiting a quiet, country neighborhood, with a dear friend who had formerly resided there; and in one of our evening strolls, she suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "I must really go to see old mammy: wont you come with me?" readily consented, and we took our way across a corn field, by a narrow path which led towards an old brick house, situated on a pretty, gentle, elevation, which I was surprised to find commanded a lovely and extensive prospect, with the beautiful James river winding in the distance.

The house was built of brick, evidently very old, and seemed to consist of only two rooms; but, adjoining the side of the entrance was a heap of ruins, which appeared, from the inferior quality of the materials, to be the relics of a later building. Two rude logs gave access to the door of the old house. We entered, and scarcely had my friend accosted the old woman, who was knitting at

the side of the fireplace, (although it w summer, and the fireplace empty,) when was seized with an undefined sense of hcror so oppressive, that, after struggling for few minutes to master it, I was compelled quit the house, telling my friend I wou wait for her under the trees. Short as w the time I remained in the room, its featur are indelibly fixed in my memory.

In one corner a stairway commenced the room three steps led up to a low do in the plane surface of the wall. On t same side was another door opening on t level of the floor. The apartment was larg one window and the entrance door were the opposite side, which seemed the front the house. A large fireplace, with a wi dow at its side, occupied a third side of t: room. The whole of the walls were pa elled with wainscot, though the pan were much split and defaced, and black w age and smoke. When my surprised frie joined me, she asked why I had so abrup quitted her. I replied with truth that I f as if I were suffocating, and could bear it longer; adding, that it seemed to me as some deed of horror had there been enacte and its presence still haunted the place.

"How strange," she replied; "a horril crime was indeed committed there, but h you guessed it I cannot imagine."

Such an answer was enough to provc' numerous and pressing questions; but she laughingly said she did not like horrors, a referred me to "Aunt Ceely."

This old lady was great aunt to my frien and lived with the relations we were visitin She had attained to old age, a cripple fro early youth, and although always confined her room, was a favorite with old and you for her cheerful temper, unrepining patien and remarkable memory.

She was so completely mistress of the ti ditional knowledge, or if it better please yo the "unwritten history" of lower Virgini that I am sure she could have traced the h tory of any family, which had a history be traced, from its appearance in the colo up to the time of which I speak; includi not only marriages and deaths, but many the most minute particulars. Then she w always ready to narrate to us, and many hour did I listen to her "old world" storie

tivities were over, to her estate, to live in that same house in which old Mammy has resided for twenty years. The field, now cultivated in corn or wheat, was then a smiling, graceful lawn, dotted with trees; and the house, although but little larger than at present, was entered from a broad colonnade, and stood in the midst of grand old trees, the relics of the original forest. Near the house were pretty flower-beds, well kept shrubberies, and smoothly-rolled walks. A little

with her large fortune, as a windfall come at went, immediately after their wedding festhe right time to keep up his high estate. As he intended to marry his niece to his only son, who would eventually be heir to all that his expensive habits, might leave, he flattered himself that he was only using his son's property, which was the same thing as his own, when he dissipated recklessly the ready money of his ward, which, in those days, it was not uncommon to find hoarded in its most solid forms-good Spanish and Portuguese coins. But the son and heir who was ten years older than his cousin, thought farther off fruitful orchards, neat out buildproper to marry at the age of twenty-five, ings, a picturesque dairy, built near a cool to please himself; and it thus became ne- spring bursting from the rock, and pleasant cessary for Mr. Grymes to plan some other summer houses, covered with luxuriant vines, mode of avoiding an account of his steward- completed the picture. ship.

Mr. Grymes, during the time that Mildred Miss Wilton, though only fifteen, was was his ward, had always passed his sumtall and womanly in appearance, and so much mers at this lovely spot; and, possessing readmired, that, but for the jealous guardian- fined tastes and habits, (although rather ship of her uncle, she would have had many careless at whose expense they were indulgsuitors. From among those he had kept at bay, ed,) he had not only kept the house and he selected a young Irishman, whose frank, grounds in good order, but even improved unsuspecting nature seemed to point him out and adorned them. as well fitted for his purpose. He gave him In this pleasant retreat, our young couple frequent opportunities of seeing his ward; enjoyed fully the purest cup of happiness and when her heart was won, artfully seemed which is granted to mortals on earth. Not to give a reluctant assent to their marriage. a cloud sullied the brightness of their sunIn the midst of the gaiety and dissipation at shine: every enjoyment was doubled to each that time always attendant on a wedding, of them by the sweet consciousness, that it Mr. Grymes easily obtained from the young was fully shared by the being best beloved husband, on delivering to him the deeds of his of each. wife's property, a complete relinquishment of all claims on him, arising out of his guardianship.

My old nurse was the daughter of Mr. Wilton's steward, and had lived at the mansion house, as the family residence was called, O'Donnell had not been influenced by her with the housekeeper, from the time of her wealth, in seeking his youthful wife; and mother's death. Thus gradually trained to when the land and negroes belonging to her the management of the house, and the numwere surrendered to him, together with the berless duties of the housekeeper, on a farm proceeds of the last crop, he never thought in a slaveholding community, she was duly of inquiring as to the disposition of the in- installed in that office, when, in the second come which should have accumulated during year of Mrs. O'Donnell's marriage, the worher minority. He knew nothing whatever thy old lady died, who had so long sustained of the large personal property which had its dignity and its cares. Very different passed into Mr. Grymes's hands, and remain- then from the ordinary attachment of even ed unaccounted for.

a faithful servant, was the love of this good Married, as Mildred Wilton had been, woman for her young lady. Several years through the contrivance of her uncle, ere she older than her charge, she had watched over was old enough to form a proper judgment her, while yet an infant, and had rejoiced on a question of such importance, she was summer after summer, when her young fortunate in finding herself united to a man lady's affectionate greeting, "dear Winny" of honor, talent and purity of mind. They showed how fondly she was remembered du

ring the long absences from Oatlands; and, | eyes were closed forever in the solemn sleep when, by her lady's orders, she assumed the of the grave.

keys, and the title of Mrs. Winifred, she felt that the devotion of her life could not more than repay the trust confided to her.

CHAPTER II.

In this calm retirement, enlivened and improved by the judicious employment of time, We will not attempt to describe the these happy young persons spent five years wretchedness of the bereaved husband. His of unmixed enjoyment. The only interrup- faculties seemed paralyzed by the blow: tions to their residence at Oatlands, were the nothing on earth could interest him nor was visits to Williamsburg, rendered necessary he roused from his dejection and apathy, till by the duties of Mr. O'Donnell, as a the awakening intellect of his boy gave him member of the House of Burgesses. From something to live for. Then, indeed, as the these visits, they returned with renewed zest child began to repay notice with recognition, to their quiet country home. Here they and as the rapid development of feeling and were not, indeed, secluded from the world; passion called for the father's control and difor they had neighbors whose cultivated and rection, Mr. O'Donnell devoted himself, day refined society, gratified their best tastes; by day, to the task of his education, with the and, in summer, friends from a distance asthoughtful care of a wise father, and the lovsembled at Oatlands, until it not unfrequent- ing tenderness of a fond mother. ly happened, that all the well known contriHe guided his first steps, and taught him vances of a Virginia household were put in his first words, while Mrs. Winifred cared requisition to accommodate the guests. Mr. unceasingly for his creature comforts: and O'Donnell determined to build an addition the child grew on, seemingly unscathed by to the house, and it was erected on that side the bereavement which, nevertheless, cast a upon which the ruins now are. dark shadow over the future.

It was a handsome three story building, It was beautiful to see the devotion of the well built and furnished with many more young father to his boy. He was his only convenient arrangements for the comfort of companion. First before his father on horsefamilies, than was usual in those days. The back, and as soon as possible, on a pony of entrance was also changed to the front of the his own, Wilton accompanied his father to new building; to which the original one seem- the fields to overlook his laborers, to his vaed only an appendage. rious outdoor sports, which, after a time, he resumed, and on his visits to his neighbors.

The house was finished and furnished, and they had entered upon its enjoyment, when the time drew nigh for Mrs. O'Donnell to give birth to her first child.

Every year or so, rumor would proclaim that the widower was about to take another wife, but somehow, rumor never told the Great was the anxiety, many the prayers truth: though many fair ladies put on their for her safety. Redmond O'Donnell had ar- brightest smiles of welcome for him, and dently longed for such a blessing; and per- thousands of caresses were lavished upon the haps the most exquisitely happy moment of lovely boy, and expressions of fond admirahis life was that, in which Mildred commu- tion, that might possibly have been meant as nicated her first hope of it. But, as the time much for the father as the child, all were in approached, his anxiety become more and vain. Time passed on, and Mr. O'Donnell more intense: he remembered having heard still lived, absorbed in two thoughts-the that his own Milly received existence from memory of his wife, and the welfare of the a mother who died in giving it, and he felt son which she had left him. that nothing could repay him for such a sacrifice.

His fears, alas! were fatally realized. A few days before the young wife would have completed her nineteenth year, she gave birth to a son; and, 'ere she could look upon his face, her

Nor was his devotion ill-rewarded. Gifted with fine abilities, improved by education, and blessed with a temper so affectionate as to win the love of all who knew him, he inspired such interest in his son, as to enable him to meet resolutely the difficulties in his