mortal to mortal, surely marked here a credit in favor of the typo. When the morning sun cast his golden sheen over the rich carpet of the prairie, John prepared to depart, and shaking the widow by the hand, he assured her that she should see home again, for he would search out her friends and have her sent for. As he stepped off from the house, the little girl run after him for a farewell kiss, and taking out of his pocket the remainder of his little wealth, seventeen dollars in all, he reserved one dollar for his travelling expenses, and placing his purse, with the remaining sixteen dollars, in the belt of the child, sent her back to her mother, and with the step of an emperor strode on his way. At the brow of a rising slope, in view of the cabin, he turned back to look, and saw the widow and her little ones watching his receding footsteps--raising his hat and kissing his hand he turned down the slope and was soon hidden from their sight. Improvident John, to thus give all thy store, except a trifle, to the widow and the orphan. Ah, ye cold and sordid ones of earth, a single thrill such as played about his heart then, was worth a mountain of your money bags. Contrasting his situation with the poor widow whom he had just departed from, he felt rich as Croesus--the craft of his hand, his robust youth, and a single dollar were odds in his favor against the worst circumstances. [Illustration: 0249] Two days more had passed when weary and foot-sore he approached a small village, and accosting an inhabitant leaning over a fence, he inquired if there was any chance of employment in the neighborhood. “Well, I'm of the opinion, stranger,” said the sucker, “that your chance here, is pretty much as to what you can do--ef you'r anythin' of a brick maker, Old Jo Simms wants a man at his yard, down thar at the branch; but you don't look amazin' like a mud moulder, hoss!” “I'm not much for looks,” said John, “but I'm creation at shaping things, and as for bricks, I'm a whole load of them--'front stretchers,' at that--made of choice clay--Father Adam's patent--so just point the way to Jo Simms, and some day come over and see a specimen of my brick.” Receiving the proper direction, down he went to the brick-maker's dwelling, where, on entering, he encountered old Mrs. Jo Simms, and a look at her good humored countenance satisfied him, that an instalment on his new situation, in the shape of a supper and bed, was not only possible, but very probable. After making known his business, the old lady surveyed his person, and remarked--“Well, the old man did talk of hirin' some help, 'cause thar's a lot of brick orders on hand, and I suppose you mought do--you look dreadful draggled though, and tired as a prairie team, arter a hard day's ploughin'.”