“I saw you were looking at the oranges in that window. Now, I will buy you a dozen, if you will let me help you carry them home.” The purchase was made; and the merchant walked along, conversing with his little conductor, who soon lost her timidity. Arrived at the little girl’s home, he found that he had not been deceived in his presentiments. It was the same room that he had seen pictured in the mirror. The sick man was tossing uneasily in bed when Alice entered. “See, papa,” said she, joyfully,—“see what nice oranges I have for you! And here is the kind gentleman who gave them to me.” The merchant, before he left the humble apartment, gave its occupants a timely donation, and made New Year’s Day a day of thanksgiving. Mr. Hathaway soon found himself at the residence of his friend Audley, who gave him a warm welcome. “This is indeed kind,” said he. “The friendship that adversity cannot interrupt is really valuable.” Mr. Hathaway now introduced the object of his visit, asking, “What do you mean to do with Arthur? He was nearly ready to go to college,—was he not?” “He was; and this is one of the severest trials attending my reversed circumstances, that I am compelled to disappoint his long-cherished wish of obtaining a college education.” “That must not be,” said Mr. Hathaway. “If you and Arthur will consent, I will myself pay his charges through college.” “Mr. Hathaway,” said Mr. Audley, in a glow of surprise and pleasure, “this offer evinces a noble generosity on your part that I shall never forget. You must let me tell Arthur the good news.” Mr. Audley summoned his son, and, pointing to Mr. Hathaway, said, “This gentleman has offered to send you to college at his own expense.” The eyes of the youth lighted up; and he grasped the hand of his benefactor, saying, simply, “Oh! if you but knew how happy you have made me!” “I do not deserve your thanks,” was the smiling reply. “I have learned that to make others happy is the most direct way to secure my own happiness.” Mr. Hathaway took his way to the store. Arrived there, he sought out Frank Durell, and requested him to step into his office, as he wished to speak to him in private. “Your salary is five hundred dollars a year, I believe?” said he. “Yes, sir,” said Frank Durell, somewhat surprised. “I have come to the conclusion that this is insufficient, and I shall therefore advance it two hundred dollars; and, as a part of it may not be unacceptable to you now, here are a hundred dollars that you may consider an advance.” “Sir,” said Frank Durell, hardly believing his senses, “you cannot estimate the benefit I shall derive from this generosity. My mother, who depends upon me for support, was about to be deprived of her furniture by an extortionate creditor; but this timely gift—for I must consider it so—will remove this terrible necessity. I thank you, sir, from my heart.”