a sick person. This relative, (for Mr. Oliver was her nephew, and a cousin of Mrs. Nelson), evinced her gratitude towards him in warm expressions of regard for his future happiness, not only in this world, but in that beyond the skies; at the same time saying she had observed an expression of anxiety of late depicted in his countenance which she regretted to see.

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'Will you,' continued she, tell me if any thing weighs upon your spirits; or am I mistaken?'

'You are not mistaken, my dear aunt,' replied he; my spirits are depressed.'

'Will you reveal to me the cause of this dejection ? ' asked his friend, in a tone of sympathy.

6

'If I may confide in you, I will,' answered the other. 'You can do so without reserve,' said the lady, and if I can serve you in any way, be assured I shall be glad of an opportunity to do so.'

'It is in your power to benefit me greatly,' responded Mr. Oliver, with a deep drawn sigh; still, as you cannot do so without changing your mind in relation to what you have always intended to do for others, I have not courage to tell how you can serve me.'

His aunt did not exactly understand the bearing of his remarks, and begged him to explain their meaning.

Her nephew replied by asking if she had not heard it hinted that he had recently suffered by heavy losses.

6

'No, indeed, I have not,' answered his aunt; then I may safely conjecture that your recent depression has been caused by the embarrassed state of your affairs.'

You have judged rightly,' said he; and I feel glad this news has not reached you before, because I may infer

6

from that fact that it has not as yet become very public.' So am I,' replied the lady, but am sorry you did not communicate this important fact ere now.'

'I shrunk from the thought of it,' said this designing man, 'because I feared it might lead you to regret having bequeathed all your property to the family of Mrs. Savage, my cousin.'

'I have bequeathed it to this fatherless family,' said his aunt, in a feeble tone of voice (for she was at this time very weak, and becoming increasingly so every day), 'because I thought it my duty to do so, supposing they needed it more than any of my friends; I dreamed not that you would ever require my assistance, or I should have acted differently.'

I suppose it is altogether too late now for you to make any change in regard to the disposition you have made of your property,' said he.

'It is not,' said his friendly, but deceived relative; I can, even now, alter my will, and will do so, if your affairs are so much embarrassed as to make it more my duty to assist you than those I had designed to befriend.'

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'I am at present in great perplexity;' responded Mr. Oliver, and you may be assured that the family you have considered so liberally in your bequest, are likely to get along better than I can, without the aid of some friend like yourself.'

'But I had supposed,' replied she, that Mr. Savage had been unfortunate, and his family in danger of being greatly depressed in their pecuniary circumstances.'

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"That is a mistake,' said he, and I will risk this energetic widow, so far as there is any liability of her becom

ing poor, as long as it is in her power to manage for herself. You can feel satisfied that she is doing well.'

The weakness of the lady would not allow the conversation to be prolonged; and, confiding implicitly in the statements made by her nephew, she ordered her will to be brought to her, which was accordingly done, and at her instance destroyed. She then, with much difficulty, dictated a new one to be written, whereby she bequeathed the greatest part of her property to Mr. Oliver, and only a small sum to each of the family of Mr. Savage.

After the writing was completed, it was necessary for the lady to sign it with her own hand; yet she was unaable to do so without assistance, and Mr. Oliver held her hand steadily while she affixed her signature.

The excitement, produced by the unusual effort she had made on this occasion, greatly prostrated her strength, and she lived but a few days after, during which time she was unable to converse.

The family that experienced this disappointment, in regard to future expectations of independence, so far as money could make them so, were surprised at the conduct of their aunt, yet were ignorant, for many years, of the cause of the change she had manifested towards them.

Ere the reader concludes the perusal of this volume, he will learn something more of the history of the artful Mr. Oliver; at present, his curiosity must be gratified in regard to the destiny of Simon.

This youth was aware of the fact that the name of his mother had been changed the third time, yet he had heard the last repeated so seldom that it had actually escaped his memory; still, he doubted not but by asking for his

brothers and sisters, he might, upon going to Providence, easily find his mother. His friends, and he had many (being an intelligent and lovely youth), all felt gratified at the idea of his going to his mother; and trusted, notwithstanding she had manifested of late so little interest in his welfare, that she was far from feeling indifferent towards him.

Simon was accompanied by a friend the greatest part of the way to Providence, the place where the anxiously expecting young man trusted he should behold his mother, and experience from her that maternal tenderness which he had longed again to enjoy after he had been bereaved of the friend who had been in some respects even more than a mother to him. He parted from his friend at a place about seven miles distant from Providence, where he was obliged to remain sometime, waiting for the arrival of the stage-coach which was to convey him thither.

While sitting in the parlor of the hotel, musing upon the scenes through which he had passed, a stranger entered, and, seating himself on the sofa by the side of Simon, addressed him in a friendly tone of voice. The disposition of the youth was open and affectionate, and as his companion was a gentleman of engaging manners, he very soon drew Simon into a conversation, that enabled him to learn something of his interesting history. He also perceived that he was intelligent, even beyond what might be expected from a youth of his age; and this, added to his vivacity and good manners, greatly interested the stranger.

This gentleman was a nautical commander, and as he was going to Providence, entertained his young friend,

who was an eager listener, with facts drawn from his experience while upon the billowy ocean, during their ride together in the stage to that place, from which the captain expected to sail very soon for Europe.

Ere these new friends parted, after they arrived at the end of their journey, Simon learned that his companion was to take lodgings at a public house in a central part of the town. He felt interested to remember the name of the street, and number of the building, and sincerely thanked the gentleman, who handed him his card, and politely invited him to call upon him, if he found an opportunity to do so ere he should leave the place.

Alighting from the stage at the hotel, Simon immediately sought his mother, by enquiring for a person who he thought would be likely to know her. He vainly endeavored to remember her name, but though he recollected the first letter, he could not mention a name near enough like it, to enable the individual to imagine who he meant. He could not, either, learn any thing about his brothers or sisters, and returned to the public house where he parted with his new friend, and informed him of the disappointment he had experienced.

The humane gentleman sincerely pitied the youth, and cheerfully offered him all the assistance in his power, in his long continued, though fruitless attempt to find his parent, until they both felt it to be of little avail to seek her more.

At this juncture, Simon was perplexed, and knew not what course to pursue. He thought, at first, it would be best to return immediately to the friends he had left in Brookfield; but knew that this would be useless, as his