"The hand of providence is in this," I muttered. I grieved much for the loss of my two patients, for I had conceived quite a fatherly affection for them both. As soon as decency would permit, I called upon the parents of Charles. The account they gave of the reason of his death caused me no little surprise. It appeared that on the eve of his marriage his mother received a badly-written and ill-spelt letter from a person who professed to have known the family a long time, begging her to call upon the writer, who was then in a dying state, and had an important communication to make. Mrs. ----, curious to know who the writer could be, called at the address given in the letter, which proved to be a miserable hovel in one of the back slums of London. There, stretched upon a wretched pallet, lay the squalid and emaciated form of an old woman, whom, after some difficulty, Mrs. ---- recognised as the monthly nurse who attended her four and twenty years ago, during her confinement. "Who are you?" asked Mrs. ----. "Look at me. Do you recollect me now?" inquired the hag. "How should I? I never saw you before. Stay, your features seem to grow more familiar to me, now my eyes get accustomed to the light. Is it possible you can be Sarah Maclean, the midwife who----" "The same," responded the hag. "What would you of me?" inquired Mrs. ----. "I have a communication to make before I die," said the old woman. "Listen." And she began her confession in feeble tones, thus: "You were not aware, ma'am, that the day before your son was born, I myself was confined with twins--a boy and a girl. Being called upon the next day to attend upon you, I waited to see if your child were a male child or a female. Finding that it was a man-child, I took advantage of the agony I saw you were in, deeming that my act would never be discovered. I managed to conceal my own child under my shawl, and so contrived to substitute my child for your own." "Wretch!" cried Mrs. ----, gasping. "Stay; hear me out. I've got more to tell," continued the hag. "Your own son died shortly after you had given him birth, through my neglect--I admit it." "Murderess!" screamed Mrs. ----. "Bear with me yet awhile," said the midwife, "while I have still breath left to confess all. I wished that one of my children should do well in the world, and I adopted the stratagem I have just confessed to you. "As for my other child, being a girl, I was anxious to get her off my hands as soon as possible, so I left her at the foot of a tree near Stratford-on-Avon, where I myself was born." "What have I to do with all your other crimes, wicked woman?" exclaimed Mrs. ----. "They rest between yourself and your Maker. Spare me further confession."