that Emily was more to be pitied than blamed for the notions she got from this woman, into whose hands she fell when she was so very young. Her father, you all know, was not the wisest man in the world. She had no mother. Harry was too young to guide her. Mrs. John Norton flattered her vanity, removed her entirely from her early associates, indulged her in every idle wish, and would have probably ruined the poor child, had it not pleased Providence to remove her from her influence. Mrs. Norton has gone back to her uncle's, to live again in idle dependence upon him, and has shown how little real affection she had for Emily; for she has given herself no concern as to what is to become of her, though she knows she has not a penny, nor a relation to take care of her."

The children looked sad and pitiful.

"She is young enough, I believe," continued Mr. Barclay, "to be admitted either into the orphan's asylum or the alms-house."

"Both very good places for her,” said Aunt Betsey.

"Aunt Betsey!" exclaimed Charles; "Emily Norton go to the alms-house!

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Harry's sister go to the alms-house,-awful! cried Alice. Do, father, let her come and live with us.

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Alice, are you beside yourself?" asked Aunt Betsey. "After your father has been all but ruined by old Norton, to think of his taking upon himself the support of Emily!

Mr. Barclay went on, without directly answer

ing either Alice or her aunt.

"I have seen a

great deal of little Emily since her father's death, and do not believe it will be difficult to give her right notions. Poor child, her heart is melted, and takes any impression you please to put upon it. She is any thing but proud now, Mary; and the fine clothes that offended you so much, are all gone.

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Gone, father?"

"Yes. I told her the greatest honor that children in their case could do to father's memory, was, as far as possible, to pay his debts; and I told her what exertions and sacrifices Harry had made. She immediately went up stairs, and packed up all her finery, her little trinkets, and every ornamental thing she had in the world, and begged me to have them sold to pay the chambermaid, who had complained bitterly of the loss of the wages due to her."

"Did she, father?" said Mary; "her watch, her gold chain, and her real enamel buckie?" Yes, my dear, those, and every article but her necessary clothes.

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"I always thought," said Wallace, "that Emily had something noble in her."

"I felt sure of it," said Charles.

"Most persons, my dear boys, have something noble in them, if you but touch the right spring to set it in motion. I think poor little Emily has fine qualities, but her character will depend much on the circumstances in which she is placed, for she is easily influenced."

"I like persons who are easily influenced," said Wallace, as if thinking aloud. This was

true, and a common disposition enough it is, with those who are strong willed, and who seem born, like our friend Wallace, to influence others.

"I called in on Harry and Emily as I came home to tea," continued Mr. Barclay. "Their house is in complete order for the auction which is to take place to morrow. Harry has worked like a beaver, and with the help of one man and one woman and little Emily, who has done all she could, every thing is ready."

"O dear!" said Alice, heaving a deep sigh, "how sadly they must feel."

"No, Alice, they do not, and they ought not. It is family love and happy domestic intercourse that attaches us to the inanimate objects of our home. This table around which we have many pleasant gatherings, the sofa, grandmamma's rocking-chair, the baby's cradle, are all so many signs, which, as often as you look upon them, call forth delightful feelings. No books or maps will ever look to you like those we have read and studied together. But suppose our parlor emptied of all it now contains, and costly furniture put in it, such as would make us appear genteel in other people's eyes; suppose we never entered it but to receive morning calls, or evening company; our vanity might be gratified, but do you think the furniture would excite any sensations worthy of the name of happiness??? No, sir, no, was the general verdict.

"The case I have supposed is just that of Harry and Emily, the family moved into a new house when John Norton was married, all the

old furniture was sent to auction, and new was bought. Harry has passed most of his evenings with us, and poor little Emily, when they had not company at home, has been left alone with her father, who did not know how to amuse or instruct her, or with the servants, who were very unfit companions, for Mrs. John Norton was never nice in the selection of her servants, and was continually changing them. This evening, I found Harry and Emily in the little breakfastroom. There was a light on the table, and a book from which Harry had been reading to his sister; but they had drawn near the fire. They were sitting on the same chair. Emily's arm was round his neck, and she was listening to what he was saying with such a tender, confiding look—" "I wonder what he was saying, father," said Alice.

"But why need they be separated, father? why can't they both come and live with us?"

It had been a settled matter, from the moment of Mr. Norton's death, that Harry was to come into the family.

"Are you crazy, Alice?" asked Aunt Betsey. "I am sure I don't think Alice crazy at all," said Mary. 66 There are two beds in our room, and Haddy sleeps with Alice, and I should like of all things to have Emily sleep with me."

"And it is exceedingly important," said Wallace, as wise as Socrates on the occasion, "that Emily should live in a good place, because, father

"And where can she go, if she don't come here? " asked the tender-hearted Charles.

The children had arrived at the very point Mr. Barclay desired.

"Your right dispositions, my dear children," he said, "gratify me; but you must remember that it is on your mother that the burden of an increased family must chiefly fall. Consult her. If she is willing to extend the blessing of a home to both these orphan children, at the cost, as must needs be, of much labor and self-denial to herself, she will set us an example of disinterestedness and benevolence that we will try to follow."

The children now all clustered round their mother. To Mrs. Barclay, sound in health, serene in temper, and of most benignant disposition, no exertion for others seemed difficult; and with one of her sweetest smiles she said, that, as far as she was concerned, she should be most happy that Harry and Emily should not be separated. The children clapped their hands, and returned to their father, shouting, "It's all settled."

"Not quite so fast; there is something yet to be considered. You all know that we allow ourselves a fixed sum for our annual expenses. If we indulge in the luxury of doing this kindness to Emily, we must all give up something. You and Mary, Alice, must give up the dancing-school that has been running in your heads for the last six weeks, and Charles and Wallace cannot have a drawing-master.'