"Much of his comfort will depend on the price you pay for his pension."

"I knew you would sing that song!" said the woman, in a whining tone. "I must say it is the hardest thing of all for a poor lone widow-" "You'll accept my succor on my own terms or let it alone," said the man, coldly.

"You know I can't help myself, so what's the use of talking! I'll pay what I can, and you must promise me that your folk will do the best in their power for my boy; however, I'll go and see him occasionally, and judge for myself."

"That's the best plan; I, too, have sometimes business in that part of the country, for my master has an estate hard by, and I will now and then drop in to look after him. The people have plenty of children of their own, and companionship will reconcile your boy to everything, even to what at first he may term hardships. Come, Jakubska, be reasonable-can you put your child in a palace? If I were not afraid that, owing to my being the brother of the nurse and your cousin, and the child's having been here to-night, I might eventually be mixed up with this ugly business, I would not trouble myself so much about the matter, I can tell you, but even let you follow your own bent. It has been my principle through life never to let my name come to the ear of the great, either for good or for evil. The less they know about one the better. We have a proverb that says, 'The meanest bush can cast a shadowwhat must it be, then, with the huge oak?' '"

"You were ever a prudent man," said Jakubska, with a dubious expression about eye and lip.

"I never had occasion to repent it. But I'll tell you something more the child starts tonight-I have a good horse-your Pavel is not much of a load-I 'll draw out the cart this instant."

"But he is fearfully fatigued," said the wo

man.

"He'll not be more tired sleeping on straw at the bottom of my cart, than in my kitchen corner. It comes to this, Jakubska, he cannot wake here to-morrow; there are too many sharp ears and eyes about."

"Well," said the woman, sulkily, "I am in your hands, and you know it so it must be as you say, I suppose, but you take me with you."

"Not to-night-not till I have arranged everything for a thousand reasons it's better so.”

It was not till the whole household had retired to rest, that the man made his preparations for the road; and these preparations were simple enough. He harnessed one of his raw-boned, high-cruppered plough horses to an uncovered cart, at the bottom of which he shook an abundant supply of straw, taking care to make as little noise as possible; for, like most very prudent men in his country, he was apt to enwrap his movements in mystery, and his family knew better than to pry into those things which he chose to keep secret. He then

kubska leaning over the sleeping boy, and examining carefully every part of his raiment, in search of the valuable baubles which she fancied he must have on his person.

"What are you doing there?" said the host, severely.

"I am only looking after my own; surely I have a better right to anything the child may have about him than the people he is going to."

Well, it's no concern of mine," said the host, carefully sorting the objects he might need on the road; first, an ample provision of rope and twine-a very necessary precaution to those who travel along Polish roads-then, some nails wrapped in a sheet of brown paper, a hammer, a flask of brandy-then, a sheep's skin for himself, another to throw over the child, and, lastly, a tinder-box.

"And your gun," said Jakubska-" you forget your gun!"

"True,” said the man-" the wolves-one is sure to meet them in that neighborhood; and now, Jakubska, the money?"

"I have not yet touched a penny from my lord -it's all promise."

"Ay, but the people will be wanting some immediately, and I have none at home."

With a heavy sigh, the woman took from her under vestments a small faded purse which had once belonged to the countess, and which miraculously yet contained some remnant of her bounty. This the man buried in an inner pocket of his waistcoat, and raising the child gently from his straw pallet, carried him to the cart, and there deposited him, still plunged in the deepest sleep. He next mounted to the rough seat he had arranged in front for himself, and was about to shake the reins, when Jakubska stopped him by a parting exclamation

"Be kind to my Pavel," she said; "remember, though you are not his god-father, he is named after you."

"Ay, ay; lock the gate carefully after me, and put the key where I told you, and be off before any one is stirring." With these last injunctions, he departed.

The rain had abated, but the night was cold, and the air impregnated with the damp of the previous day. The count, in his hermetically closed, easy, travelling carriage, in vain courting slumber, looked out on the starless night under an overwhelming sense of isolation and strangeness. But a few days back a husband and a father, and now quite alone and joyless in the world, to which, it seemed to him, no tie now bound him. The general thought of his own sorrows, his own trials, of himself whom the world would be so happy, so proud to console; but of that poor, lone boy, that very morning sitting by his side in the pride of station and wealth, now littered on straw at the bottom of a peasant's cart of that existence crushed in its bud-of those first and purest affections trampled down-of that abandoned human being the count thought not. And herein lies the cruelty of those whom fortune has spoiled-in their fearful egotism! In the total oblivion of everything but self, or what, by position and circumstances, comes nearest to self, exists the gulf that separates them from the rest of the world. What right had the vassal's son, the impostor, to occupy any place in the General Count Stanoiki's remembrance? And Leon-or rather Pavel, as we must henceforth call him-slept on under his sheep's skin covering, unconscious of the deep ruts and hard stones he was rumbling over; for he slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.

The morning light was struggling through the hazy atmosphere when the cart arrived at the frontier. A couple of drowsy, grumbling officials turned out, but not so drowsy as to neglect looking very sharply after the contents of the vehicle.

fortitude of both horse and man. Bridges composed but of a few trees carelessly lopped of their branches, and as carelessly thrown across the many brooks that bisected the road, had to be traversed; and, where these were wanting, the ferry was of so indifferent a kind, that considerable time elapsed before the cart was in a condition to proceed. Where the road lay through the forest, it at times altogether lost the character implied by its denomination; and it required practice to trace the land-marks among broken boughs, and trot away over the trunks of felled trees, with the indifference evinced both by man and beast.

"Surely," thought the driver, "this jolting and bumping must have awoke the boy." In this supposition he was in part correct. Pavel had raised his aching head and was staring around him with a bewildered air, too stupefied to take notice,

Austrian Poland now lay behind them; they were entering the Russian division, which retains a more national character than those that have fallen under the German sway. Striking off from the high road to Warsaw, into one that led to a town of minor importance, they soon reached a village of some appearance. Here the man rested awhile, for his horse's sake as much as for his own, and made an attempt to rouse the boy in order to give him some refreshment; but Pavel could not be awakened. His conductor thought it would be cruel to insist; and having seen his horse properly attended to, he patiently waited the proper time for resuming his journey, though, in fact, impatient enough to get rid of his troublesome charge. With the falseness peculiar to, and characteristic of, nations accustomed to live under strong pressure, the Pole, as well as the Russian, is ever desirous of avoiding observation, and giving the change on his movements. He lies even without necessity, from excess of caution. Even though no one suspected or questioned him, Jakubska's cousin thought fit to gratify the possible curiosity of the innkeeper by a long-winded story of the most improbable texture, to account for circumstances that needed no explanation, and which would have given rise to suspicion had it been worth the while of the inn-folk to feel any curiosity about him or his concerns.

The horse being once more fit for the road, the tedious journey was resumed. Deep ruts and deeper holes had now to be avoided with a skill which kept the driver's mental faculties on the stretch. To escape upsetting or breaking down on most of the Russian-Polish roads some twelve or fifteen years ago, demanded skill that might well establish a man's reputation as a whip; but here there were difficulties to be encountered that tried the

"I want some water," said the child, fretfully, "water-water!"

"There is no water here; take a little sip of this," handing him his brandy-flask; "it will comfort you, for we have yet a long pull before us; but you'd better eat something along with it."

The boy instinctively repulsed the proffered food, for he was no longer master of his impulses ; but of the brandy he took a deep draught. In vain did the driver interpose, saying, "For Heaven's sake have done, will you? you 'll be quite beside yourself." Pavel drank on, eager to slake his burning thirst, without being even aware of the liquid wherewith he quenched it. When he returned the stone bottle to the man, and the latter perceived the diminution his young companion had caused in his resources, he muttered with a sort of grunt: "Like the mother-like the mother. after all. I don't wonder she was loth to part with him; if the old folk have not a care, he'll play the deuce with their cellar; however, it 's no concern of mine."

Soon the brandy, taken for the first time in his life, and in such an immoderate quantity, acting, too, on a stomach which had received no food for the last twenty-four hours, and on a frame prostrate with unaccustomed fatigue, completely stupefied the poor boy, and he sank to the bottom of the cart in a state of apparent lifelessness.

"He is dead drunk!" exclaimed the man, as he gazed on him-" perfect image of his mother! he'll be a pride and a pleasure to her! And as to the count, he could never have made a silk purse out of a sow's ear-it's all for the best." So saying, he cracked his whip, and strained every nerve to fly over a bridge of planks of doubtful solidity.

Nothing more passed between them through the whole of that weary day, which, however, is short enough at that time of the year, in those countries.

distance; the brooks of the neighborhood swelled

rapidly; and the man, growing every moment more anxious, applied his whip incessantly to his now wearied brute. They had not proceeded much further, however, before a safe port was announced, by a steady light on the left side of the road. It was from a window of the solitary pot-house which was, henceforth, to be the home of the pampered heir; and though circumstances combined to soften the wretched outlines of the hovel, and to make any place of rest desirable, yet not even fatigue, time, or weather, could prevent its squalid appearance from striking the eye painfully.

"So much the better," murmured the man; "it'll break with the past all the more effectually;" and, carefully turning his horse's head in the direction of the public house, he slowly and cautiously drove into the well-known gate; but so slippery and rapid was the descent into the yard, and awkward the entrance, he must have upset at once had not his cart been a strong one. A single glance at the host and hostess, who came out to meet their guest, would have been sufficient to reveal, had he not previously known, their despised origin-they were Jews. So iminense is the contempt, in these countries-a legacy of the barbarity of the feudal times for these Parias of ages, that the man had not dared to mention the fact to old Jakubska, who would, doubtless, have considered it an insuperable objection. But her cousin, with quick perception, immediately felt that they were exactly the people for an emergency like the present; for, whereas no Christian serf would venture to meddle with anything mysterious in its appearance, from fear of being involved in matters displeasing to his master, the Jew was ever ready for profit, great or small, to run his neck into any noose. Stolen sheep or stolen watches were alike to him; to the hard-pressed smuggler or eloping damsel, for a certain consideration, he was ever ready to offer his sympathizing assistance. He troubled the ready-money customer with no questions, and faithfully fulfilled, so far as in him lay, the conditions he agreed to. To these people. therefore, Jakubska's cousin determined to consign Pavel. This was by no means the only establishment of the kind within his acquaintance: but it was the most distant from the estate of Stanoiki, and he knew the man and his wife, whatever might be their line of business, were kind and inoffensive. Moveover, few travellers ever stopped at the house; there was little chance of the boy being recognized, or gaining information respecting his late home.

"Well, Salome-well. Noah; how are you getting on?"

"As well as people will let us; but what brings you here to-night? Surely something worth your while to have come all this way in such weather-corn for brandy? but unless it be

gown.

"It's a fine living child I am bringing you," said the guest, triumphantly. "A full-grown child, too."

"You're joking," said Salome; "we have enough of our own."

"Let me chaffer a little with your husband. Have you any one within?"

"Not a soul, and it is not likely we shall have many interruptions to-night."

"So much the better. But before you help me to stable the horse, let me remove my burden. Come, stir up, Pavel," he said, shaking the child. "Ah, well, he is again asleep, and no wonder, he must be thoroughly tired out. I suppose you 'll have a bed for him?"

"Why, no," said Salome; "that's just what we have not."

"I am afraid," said Noah, “ you must carry your wares further, I don't say for to-night, but"

"Wait-wait till we have talked the thing over."

They now adjourned to the principal, indeed the only sitting, apartment in the inn; a long, low chamber, with deal benches along the walls, before which stood as many tables, cut and hacked, and burnt, in a manner to show that those who were in the habit of regaling themselves here did not belong to the soberest part of the population. Round a huge stove which occupied no inconsiderable portion of the room, not only in breadth but in height, for it reached almost to the ceiling, sat half a dozen children of various ages; whilst beneath it, as usual, the whole poultry yard was at roost, and gave audible tokens of being disturbed by the entrance of strangers.

"I am afraid this child is very ill," said Salome, as Pavel was brought in and laid upon a bench; "and such a fine boy as he is, too! he looks fit to be a lord's son such small, white hands, and such nice clothes!"

"He has had good friends, but they are gone, and we must look to it that he be fit, one day, to earn his own bread; he must be provided with clothes more befitting his station."

"But he is ill," persisted Salome.

"A little fatigued from the road, that's all. But now let's have some refreshment, and get to business, for I must be off right early to-morrow. I never told my people where I was going, nor, indeed, that I was going at all, and if I be not back by times they'll get anxious. We strike our bargain to-night, and I leave you the boy for five years--for to that time his lord's permission extends-or he goes back with me to-morrow to another person of your creed, who, I know, will be glad enough to have him."

"Well, well, we'll hear of your conditions," said Noah.