"Why, isn't one street of a name enough?" says I, getting out of patience. "What on earth do you want?" "I want the name of the people." "Smith." "And the number of the house they live in." "Oh, then, houses go by numbers, not names, here in York, do they? Stop a minute!" Here I took a slip of paper from my pocket-book which Smith's daughter had written, and gave it to him. "All right," says he, hopping up the wheel, and going to his seat. Then away we rolled, genteel as could be. I bought the satchel at a store we drove by, and then we went on and on and on, till at last he stopped before a brick house with a good deal of iron about it. The driver jumped down, ran up the steps, pulled a rusty knob fastened to the door stone, and faced round towards his horses. A girl I should consider as hired help opened the door. "Is Mrs. Smith at home?" says I, a-putting my head out of the window. "Yes," says she. "I'll get out," says I. The driver unfolded a lot of steps that had been hid away under the windows. I went down them with a genteel trip. The man had been so polite, I stopped to thank him. "Three dollars," says he, a holding out his hand. "Three dollars? What for?" says I, all in a flutter. "For bringing you here," says he. "Stopping on the way, and so on." "But you invited me." The fellow grinned, and held out his hand harder than ever. The help on top of the steps giggled. "Come, look sharp, I can't wait all day," says he, as pert as a fox. "Well," says I; "being an unprotected female in a strange place, I can't help myself, I guess; but they do sell politeness awful dear in York. It must be scarce." I gave him three dollars without another word, feeling like a robbed princess as I did it. Then I took the bandbox and new satchel in my hand, and walked into Smith's boarding-house, about the homesickest creature that ever bore a cross. II. PHŒMIE'S FIRST VISIT. Sisters:--Some of you must remember my cousin Emily Elizabeth Frost, that married a Dempster ten years ago when most of us were little mites of things sewing our over-and-over seams. She was a smart creature enough, and as her mother was a proper, nice woman, it was reasonable to hope that she could be depended on to bring up her children; for her father was a deacon in the church, and her mother just the salt of the earth. Well, as soon as I got settled in my boarding-house, I took it into my head to go and see Cousin Elizabeth. She hadn't been to Vermont lately, and I'd rather lost track of her; so I gave one morning to hunting her up. Some useful things can be found in a great city like this. Now, I tell you, amongst them is a great, fat dictionary, crowded full of names, where everybody that keeps a decent house sets down the number, which is a convenience for strangers like me.