The stranger commenced unwrapping the package which he carried under his arm. It was a small mirror, with a veil hanging before it. He slowly withdrew the veil, and said, “Look!” A change passed over the surface of the mirror. Mr. Hathaway, as he looked at it intently, found that it reflected a small room, scantily furnished; while a fire flickered in the grate. A bed stood in one corner of the room, on which reposed a sick man. By the side of it sat a woman, with a thin shawl over her shoulders, busily plying her needle. An infant boy lay in a cradle not far off, which a little girl called Alice, whose wasted form and features spoke of want and privation, was rocking to sleep. “Would you hear what they are saying?” asked the stranger. The merchant nodded acquiescence. Immediately there came to his ear the confused noise of voices, from which he soon distinguished that of the sick man, who asked for some food. “We have none in the house,” said his wife. “But I shall soon get this work finished; and then I shall be able to get some.” The husband groaned: “Oh that I should be obliged to remain idle on a sick bed, when I might be earning money for you and the children! The doctor says, that, now the fever has gone, I need nothing but nourishing food to raise me up again. But, alas! I see no means of procuring it. Would that some rich man, out of his abundance, would supply me with but a trifle from his board! To him it would be nothing; to me, every thing.” The scene vanished; and gradually another formed itself upon the surface of the mirror. It was a small room, neatly but not expensively furnished. There were two occupants,—a man of middle age, and a youth of a bright, intellectual countenance, which at present seemed overspread with an air of dejection. Mr. Hathaway, to his surprise, recognized in the gentleman Mark Audley, a fellow-merchant and formerly intimate friend, who, but a few months before, had failed in business, and, too honorable to defraud his creditors, had given up all his property. Since his failure, he had been reduced to accept a clerkship. “I am sorry, Arthur,” said he to his son, “very sorry, that I could not carry out my intention of entering you at college. I know your tastes have always led you to think of a professional career; but my sudden change of circumstances has placed it out of my power to gratify you. It is best for you to accept the situation which has been offered you, and enter Mr. Bellamy’s store. It is a very fair situation, and will suit you as well as any.” “I believe you are right, sir,” said Arthur, respectfully; “though it will be hard to resign the hopes that I have so long cherished. I met Henry Fulham to-day. He was in my class at school, and is to enter college next fall. I couldn’t help envying him. How soon will Mr. Bellamy wish me to enter his store?” “Day after to-morrow, I believe,—that is, with the beginning of the year; New Year’s Day being considered a holiday.”