kindly warning us that we were constantly exposed to the sad fate of orphans, our tender mother being already gone forever; and with a trembling voice implored us to be good boys, to study hard, to be kind and obedient to Mr. Shaw, to cultivate manly virtues, and strive to become intellectual giants, and the pillars of our country, in peace or war, after the fathers of his generation had passed from the field of action. We both wept bitterly, and besought our dear and indulgent father to forgive the past, with assurances of our efforts to please him and our teacher in the future. We reach home, and father kindles a crackling, hickory fire, and gives us cider and walnuts, and tells us pretty stories, and puts on extra bed clothes, because the night is so piercing cold, and tucks our bed at the sides, to keep out the biting air, and then directs us to clasp and raise our little hands to God, and say after him our evening prayer of “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take;” and then gives us a parting kiss, and pats our little foreheads, and breathes sweet tones of affection until he passes from our view. Bill and myself make good resolves for the future, and breathe a fond “good night!” and then embrace the tranquil slumber and innocent dreams of early boyhood. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Office—114 Nassau Street ------------------------------------------------------ THE ALLIGATOR. ------------------------------------------------------ New York, Saturday, September 25, 1858. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The Alligator Lives for Another Week.