It was on a beautiful September morning that we arrived in New York. As I had written to the good lady with whom I lodged, she was prepared to receive us, and I had the pleasure of finding that my beloved was satisfied with her apartments. But the moment came when I was to leave her for several hours—it would not do to linger in her dear presence any longer, and she was the first to hint that my duties must be resumed. To a solitary creature, whose existence was wrapped up in this one being, this separation, short as it might be, was most painful; I bade her farewell over and over again without moving, having a most horrible fear that something or some one would spirit her away during my absence. I was compelled at length to leave her, and I had the folly to beg her to lock herself in the chamber until my return. I smile now while I think of it, but O what tenderness steals over me when I look back to that dear one, and recollect how sweetly she soothed my apprehensions, and how careful she was not to ridicule my weakness. I reported myself to Mr. Blagge, who expressed great pleasure at my return, complimenting me on my improved looks. “I told you,” said he, “that you wanted a little country air; where have you been?” “I have been amongst the Highlands,” said I, “and I have brought back health, happiness, and a wife.” “Ah! that was the trouble, was it?” said he; “I feared it was a love affair, but you are such a shy fellow that one cannot come at what is passing in your mind.” “Well, my dear sir, you will not find that the case any longer,” said I, “I shall now carry my heart in my hand.” “That is,” said Mr. Blagge, “you think you will; but excepting that your face will be beaming with pleasure as it does now, no one will be the better of what is going on within; I know you very well now; you will be more reserved than ever.” I laughed at this, for I was in fact at that very moment grudging the time I spent in this little friendly talk, for I wanted to be thinking of my wife. “Oh, by the way,” said Mr. Blagge, “there is a letter for you from your old master, Mr. Bartlett; it came enclosed to me, and he requested that it might be given to you immediately. Now as you did not let me know where you were going, I could not send it to you. I suspect the good gentleman wants your services: but you must not leave me now, Mr. Parr, for I am almost beside myself with business.” I assured him that I would not; and as to Mr. Bartlett, much as I now desired an increase of income I would not live under his chilling influence, different as I was now in circumstances, for half his wealth. I actually shuddered at the thoughts of taking my wife to the scenes of my melancholy servitude.