Mrs. Strangeways’ rent. Her lodger, Jacob Gray, is going to the other end of the world, and he has taken his nephew with him. The lady gave a great shriek (after pocketing the money), which roused the house, and in a few minutes the room was full of company, among whom was Albert Seyton, with apprehension in his looks. “Good Heavens!” he cried, “is anything the matter with Harry?” “What is it—what is it?” cried a dozen voices at once. “Oh, that villain, Jacob Gray!” gasped Mrs. Strangeways. “Where is he?” cried everybody. “At the other end of the world,” replied Mrs. Strangeways. “Harry! Harry!—where are you?” shouted Albert, at once rushing into the little closet which had been the sleeping-chamber of the delicate and sensitive boy. All was still and empty. Harry’s little bed had evidently never been slept in. Jacob Gray’s was in the same state. Every little article that had belonged to them was removed. There was nothing in the rooms but what was the lawful property of Mrs. Strangeways, except the old oaken chest. “That chest,” said Albert—”he has left that.” “It’s mine,” cried Mrs. Strangeways. “The villain has run away, as you all see, and cheated a lone and defenceless, delicate female out of her lawful rent. Oh, the wretch!” Albert Seyton sprang to the box. It was locked. “I think we ought to see what’s in here,” he cried. “Do you, Jackanapes?” screamed Mrs. Strangeways, who by no means wished, should there be anything worth having in the chest, to let every one know it. “I’d have you to know, Master Albert Seyton, as it’s no business of yours.” “It’s locked,” cried Albert; “but the poker, I dare say, will open it.” “Do you dare say the poker will open it!” screamed Mrs. Strangeways. “Let anybody touch it if they dare.” So saying the lady, to make sure of her real or fancied prize, rushed forward and sat herself down on the old, chest with such a thump, that the crazy lid gave way, and with a shriek Mrs. Strangeways fell in a singular position into it. When she was hauled out by the united exertions of everybody, it was satisfactorily discovered that the chest was empty. Albert Seyton saw at a glance that it was so, and he immediately left the deserted rooms in grief for the loss of his young friend Harry, to whom he felt warmly attached. He went to his father’s apartments, and throwing himself into a chair, he burst into tears, exclaiming— “My poor Harry, I shall never see you again!” Albert Seyton’s father had been a gentleman of considerable property, but he had lost all by his adherence to the royal family, who, now at the end, as they thought, of a civil war, were seated on the throne of England. In vain he had sought compensation. A scanty pension just sufficient to keep him and his only boy Albert from actual want, was all he could wring from the government, and now, day after day, he haunted the court with the hope of calling attention at some fortunate moment to his just claims.