With a sadder heart than ever did poor Henry grope his way up into the cold garret that night, with but one thought and one image in his mind, the thought of home and the image of his mother. He dreamed of her all night. He was at home. Her tender voice was in his ear, and his head rested on her bosom. She clothed him in warmer garments, and set him beside her at the table, upon which was tempting food. But morning came at last, and he was awakened from visions of delight to a more painful consciousness of his miserable condition by the sharp, chiding voice of his cruel mistress. Slowly, with stiffened limbs and a reluctant heart, did he arise, and enter upon the repulsive and hard duties of another day. As he had not been permitted to go home, his next consolatory thought was that his mother would come out at once to see him. This hope he clung to day after day, but he clung to it in vain. It mattered not that, every time the shop door opened when he was in it, he turned with a quickened pulse to see if it were not his mother, or that he would pause and listen, when back in the house, to hear if the strange voice that came suddenly from the shop, were not the voice of her he so longed to see. She came not; nor was any word from her brought to him. And thus passed the whole of the severe month of January, the long and cold winter adding greatly to his other causes of suffering. (To be continued.) FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 2: Entered according to Act of Congress, by T. B. PETERSON, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.] [Illustration] LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRY-COOK'S: BEING THE CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN KITTY CLOVER AT SCHOOL, AND HER "DEAR, DEAR FRIEND" IN TOWN. EDITED BY HORACE MAYHEW. THE FOURTH LETTER LEFT. (_Dated March 9th._) SHOWING WHAT KITTY THOUGHT OF SOME MORE OF HER SCHOOLFELLOWS. IN my last letter, I forgot to tell you about the two Miss Suetts, Emilia and Julia. They are fat, and round, and heavy, like (Meggy says) a couple of yeast dumplings. Their parents are in India, and they never go home. No one cares much about that, however; for they are great _teazers_, and the most dreadful _tell-tales_. But they are never without preserves and pickles of some kind, and have such delicious pomegranates and guava jelly sent to them, in such large blue jars, that, after all, I doubt if any two girls would be more missed from the school than the two Suetts--disagreeable things as they are. You should only taste their tamarinds, Nell!