I felt a curious, smothered sensation at first, as I looked on the desolate surroundings--the pale, sad-faced mother, the blind grandfather, and ragged children. A dull fire was smouldering in the cooking stove, and beside it sat the grandfather, the baby on his knee, vainly trying to extract consolation from its own puny fist. As I looked at him closely I saw that Mr. Bowen had an unusually fine face--not old looking, but strangely subdued, and chastened. I fancied from his countenance, at once serene and noble, that he had beautiful thoughts there in the darkness and poverty of his surroundings. Mrs. Larkum was mending a child's torn frock, her eyes as red and swollen as ever. Her face brightened, however, when we went in. Mrs. Blake assured me afterward it would be better than medicine to them having one of the quality sit down in their house, I took the baby from its grandfather, and soon the little one was cooing contentedly in my arms, getting its fingers and face nicely smeared with the candies I had brought it. I divided the supply with the two other little ones--the eldest going direct to his grandfather, and dividing his share with him. I noticed that the gift was thankfully received, but placed securely in his pocket; no doubt to be brought out a little later, and divided with the others. I glanced at the blind man's clothing. Clean it certainly was; in this respect corresponding with everything I saw in the house; but oh, so sadly darned, and threadbare. Still, he seemed like a gentleman, and I fancied he shrank painfully within himself as if one's presence made him ill at ease. I resolved to say very little to him on this first visit, but later on try to find the key to his heart. I contented myself with the use of my eyes, and playing with the baby, leaving the two widows to indulge in a few sighs and tears together. My own tears do not come very readily, and it makes me feel cold hearted to sit dry-eyed while other eyes are wet. As I sat quietly absorbing the spirit of the place, my eyes rested on a shelf containing the few cheap dishes that served their daily food. Instantly the desolate fancies I had a few hours before indulged came forcibly to mind. I thought what would it be to cleanse the remains of meagre repasts from these coarse cups, and plates, through days and years, with no glad hopes or joyous fancies to lighten the toil! I was growing desolate hearted myself, and concluded my widowed friend had sighed and wept long enough; so returning the little charge to its grandfather, I went to Mrs. Larkum's side, and slipped the note into her hand, at the same time saying good-bye, and motioned to Mrs. Blake to come home. She arose very reluctantly, being unwilling to miss her friend's surprise and satisfaction. I too was constrained to look at her as she unfolded the note. A flush swept over her face as she saw the number, and handing it back to me, she said:-- "You have made a mistake, and given me the wrong bill."