greatly respected; and was indeed the means of elevating her less naturally refined sister.

When Mr. Dalby and his companion died, they were comforted in respect to the influence which their daughter exerted in the community in which she lived; and considered themselves more than repaid for all their kindness to the lonely wanderer, whose case they compassionated, and who, perhaps through their instrumentality, had been rescued from the path of sin in which she might otherwise have been destroyed.

Sarah Anna, Mrs. Nelson, Mrs. Coleman, and Mrs. Howe, were associated in early life, and sympathized in each other's plans, joys, and sorrows. In riper years they still cultivated a friendship that lasted until death.

Sarah Anna survived these relatives, who were all her seniors in years. It was her duty to help administer to the last wants of the wretched Mr. Oliver; to assist in forming the character of the ill-fated Simon; also to strive to comfort his afflicted mother, and wipe the tear of sorrow from her eyes as she approached the end of her earthly pilgrimage.

The youngest children of Mrs. Nelson were objects of peculiar interest to her. The daughter of Mr. Johnson, who was the youngest of the family, it will be remembered, was deserted by her father in early infancy. That father, it will be recollected, was an inebriate, and the last the reader knew of him, he was in a distant city, free from all restraint, in lulging in his sinful habits.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Desire of Susan to see her long-absent Father

His unexpected return after thirty years' absence- Mr. Johnson's excuse for his absence- Susan happily disappointed in his appearance - His second wife and child in a distant city- Their trials on his

account.

The curiosity of Susan, the daughter of Mr. Johnson, to see her father, increased with her years. She had not been taught to love his memory, yet there was something endearing to her heart in the name of father, and she longed to behold his face.

Year after year glided away, and still no tidings of the wanderer ever reached his home. Susan, at one time, indirectly heard that he resided in a place situated on the western bank of the Hudson; and thither she immediately directed a letter, but received no answer. Still, she would not despair of seeing or hearing from him, until after the lapse of many years, during which she had attained to womanhood. She now thought less of him, and began to feel that he might be dead.

At this juncture, a friend called one day at the house where she lived in Braintree, and addressing Susan, said, 'Who do you think called to see me this morning?'

6

'I don't know,' replied she, I am sure.'

Try to conjecture,' said the gentleman, as it was some one who feels greatly interested in your welfare.'

In my welfare! who can it be?'

'Whom would you like it should be?' asked her friend.

'I should be pleased to have it be some dear absent relative, say my father, if he lives!"

'Well,' said the other, whom I saw this morning?'

what if I should say, it was he

'I should rejoice if you could say so truthfully.'

'I can say so, and affirm what is true;' answered the gentleman.

'O, I am thankful!' replied Susan; but where is he? why did you not bring him with you?'

'Because I feared the surprise would be too great for you, and thought I had better inform you first of his arrival.'

Her friend then left Susan, and went out to meet her father. He soon returned, followed by a gentlemanly looking man whom he introduced to Susan as the individual she had so long desired to behold. She extended her hand towards him, at the same time saying with emotion, it be that I see my own dear father.'

Can

'It is true;' replied her father, and cordially proffered his hand; 'I am your father, though you have known so little of me.'

'I am glad to see you, even at this late period,' said the daughter, for I feared I should never behold you in this life!'

Susan was happily disappointed, by the dignified appearance of her long absent parent, and her gladness was

increased on finding him a temperate man.

She had

been told that he was a loathsome drunkard; but now she was confident that she was not deceived, and that she saw him before her, free from any marks of dissipation.

There was one reflection which marred the happiness of the hour Susan had so long desired to behold, and that was the indifference manifested by this parent for her welfare, during the thirty long years of his absence from her.

Had he but said that he had done wrong, and regretted his neglect of a father's duty, it would have removed every unpleasant feeling from her mind. As it was, she felt that his return was only to gratify curiosity, and not because he felt interested for her.

She ventured to express her feelings on this subject to her father, who said that his affection for her had ever been great, while he excused his past conduct on the ground that he had not resolution to return and endure the reproaches he well knew would be heaped upon him by her mother and others.

He stated that he had always kept himself informed of the situation of the family he had left at home, and had thought it best to stay away, lest his presence should be unwelcome.

He had formed a connection abroad, and had left a family in the city which he now considered his home; and Susan rejoiced in the thought that he was not an unnatural father to those relatives she had never seen.

Her friends ridiculed the idea of his professed regard for his child, whom he had for so many years left to the

care of others. Susan could not blame them for so doing, but she grieved that her parent had such perverted views of right, as to think it less degrading to endeavor to palliate a wrong action than frankly to acknowledge it.

Had he magnanimously confessed his faults, and his determination to be governed by better motives in future, Susan would have felt that he elevated himself at once, as he really would, in the opinion of every generous individual. His views upon this subject were false, and he dreaded acknowledging that he was wrong, lest it should be considered too humiliating by the world.

It is not known whether he continued to entertain these feelings to the close of life, or whether he adopted nobler sentiments. Susan never saw him after he visited her on this memorable occasion. She heard that he returned to his family, and went down to the grave, in peace with himself and all mankind. The remainder is veiled from the view of mortals, and idle speculation may not presume to lift the covering from the invisible future.

The reader will doubtless feel interested to know something of the history of the second family of Mr. Johnson. The lady with whom he became connected, after his un fortunate union with the mother of Susan was dissolved was unlike his former companion in almost every respect She, too, like her, willingly believed him faultless, an dreamed not that so pleasing an exterior as he could boast, could conceal pitiable defects of moral character.

The parentage of this lady was highly respectable, an her education and talents placed her in an enviable ran in society. Her personal appearance, too, was attractive She was tall and graceful, and her mild, interesting cou: