In the disposal of her wax-flowers Rosalie had met with better success—they were too exquisite not to win admiration, and several had purchased single flowers or small bouquets without disputing the price, and so encouraged, when she could procure the materials, she continued, upon a small scale, her tasteful manufacture, and thus, for the present, was enabled to provide comforts for her father, and defray the trifling expenses of her humble home. And thus to struggle on alone and unfriended, was indeed heroic in one born to better fortunes, and nurtured in a home of ease and indulgence, as was the young and gentle Rosalie. Early in life her father had emigrated from Lyons to New Orleans, where he established a mercantile house, which soon became one of the richest in the city. He married a lovely woman, and children gathered around him. But then troubles came, as they come to all—for they are part of life’s discipline, aiding us to solve its deep mysteries, and unveiling our spiritual sight to behold the glories of that higher life toward which the good and true are constantly ascending. An infant son died, and then a darling daughter, just budding into her tenth sweet summer. The mother was grief-stricken—the father’s energies paralyzed, and during this season of heavy trial, an ambitious and unprincipled partner of the house availed himself of the opportunity to embark in a daring and uncertain speculation, which failed, as might have been expected, involving the whole concern in irretrievable ruin. The same messenger who brought these evil tidings to the unhappy merchant, then residing at his country seat, brought also letters from an uncle of Mr. La Motte’s on the mother’s side, who had been for many years a resident in Canada, engaged there in the lucrative North West trade. The communication from Mr. McMillan stated that he had now retired from active business, and having no home of his own, he wished his nephew to remove with his family to Montreal, that he might find one with those whom he intended as the heirs of his fortune. Ruined in fortune, and broken down in spirit, Mr. La Motte resolved to accept his uncle’s cordial invitation, and accordingly wrote him to that effect, but unfortunately the letter never reached its destination. Again Mr. McMillan wrote, but by some untoward accident his letter went astray—and a rumor which soon after prevailed, owing to Mr. La Motte’s remaining in retirement, that he had returned with his family to France, reached the ears of his uncle, and prevented his writing again. In the meantime, the cholera broke out in the devoted city of Montreal, and Mr. McMillan was among its first victims. His life had not been such as to enable him to meet death in peace, and in the vain hope that he should thus make some atonement for his sins, he gave the whole of his property to the church, and died in the belief that its purchased masses would insure the safety of his soul.