prosperity, his habits had been gradually growing worse and

worse, till he lost his situation, and became a common sot. The
poor wife had then been compelled to toil for her own support and

that of her child; and having been brought up in luxury and ease,
it was a dreadful task to her.

John obtained another situation, but soon lost it. He was a
good-hearted man when he had not been drinking, and keenly felt

the disgrace and misery he was heaping upon himself and his
unhappy wife. Once he had the resolution to abandon the cup,

fully determined to redeem his lost character, and make his
family happy again. The better to accomplish this, he removed to

Boston, where he obtained a good situation, and for more than a
year he adhered to his resolution. Mrs. Redburn was happy again

and tremblingly hoped that the clouds of darkness had forever
passed away.

The evil time came again, and John Redburn sank down lower than
ever before. His wife lost all hope of him, and struggled, with

the courage of a hero and the fortitude of a martyr, against the
adverse tide that set against her. She was fortunate in obtaining

plenty of sewing, and was able to support herself and child very
well; but her husband, now lost to all sense of decency,

contrived to obtain, from time to time, a portion of her hard
earnings. She could never have believed that John Redburn would

come to this; for, as a clerk in her father's counting room, he
had been all that was good and noble; but there he was a

miserable sot, lost to himself, to his family, and the world.
One morning in winter he was brought home to her dead. He had

died in the watch-house of delirium tremens. He was buried, and
peace, if not hope, settled on the brow of the broken-hearted

wife.
Year after year Mrs. Redburn struggled on, often with feeble

hands and fainting heart, to earn a subsistence for herself and
Katy. She had been bred in opulence, and her wants were not so

few and simple as the wants of those who have never enjoyed the
luxury of a soft couch and a well-supplied table. She had never

learned that calculating economy which provides a great deal with
very small means.

Hence it was much harder for her to support herself and child,
than it would have been for one who had been brought up in a

hovel.
She had done very well, however, until, a few months before our

story opens, she had been taken sick, and was no longer able to
work. Her disease was an affection of the spine, which was at

times very painful, and confined her to the bed.
"But where is your father now?" asked Katy, when her mother had

finished the narrative.
"I do not know; if he is alive, he probably lives in Liverpool."

"Why don't you write a letter to him?"
"I have done so several times, but have never received any reply.

I wrote shortly after your father died, giving an account of my
situation. I am sure my father never could have got my letter, or

he would have answered me. I know he would not let me suffer here
in woe and want, if he were aware of my condition."

"Why don't you write again?"
"It is useless."

"Let me write, mother. I will call him dear grandfather, and I am
sure he will send you some money then: perhaps he will send for

us to go to Liverpool, and live in his great house, and have
servants to wait upon us."

"Alas, my child, I have given up all hope of ever seeing him
again in this world. In my letters I confessed my fault, and

begged his forgiveness. He cannot be alive, or I am sure my last
letters would have melted his heart."

"Haven't you any brothers and sisters, mother?"
"I had one sister; and I have written several letters to her, but

with no better success. They may be all dead. I fear they are."
"And your mother?"

"She died when I was young. I know Jane would have answered my
letters if she had received them."

"She was your sister?"
"Yes; she must be dead; and I suppose my father's property must

be in the hands of strangers, covering their floors with soft
carpets, and their tables with nice food, while I lie here in

misery, and my poor child actually suffers from hunger;" and the
afflicted mother clasped her daughter in her arms, and wept as

though her heart would burst.
"Don't cry, mother. I was not very hungry. We have had enough to

eat till to-day. I am going to take care of you now, you have
taken care of me so long," replied Katy, as she wiped away the

tears that flowed down her mother's wan cheek.
"What can you do, poor child?"

"I can do a great many things; I am sure I can earn money enough
to support us both."

"It is hard to think how much I have suffered, and how much of
woe there may be in the future for me," sobbed Mrs. Redburn.

"Don't cry, mother. You know what it says on the watch--`All for
the Best.' Who knows but that all your sorrows are for the best?"

"I hope they are; I will try to think they are. But it is time
for you to go. Pawn the watch for as much as you can; and I trust

that some fortunate event will enable us to redeem it."
Katy took the watch, smoothed down her hair again, put on her

worn-out bonnet, and left the house.
CHAPTER III,

KATY AND MASTER SIMON SNEED VISIT THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP.
The court in which Katy lived had once been the abode of many

very respectable families, to use a popular word, for respectable
does not always mean worthy of respect on account of one's

virtues, but worthy of respect on account of one's lands, houses,
and money. In the former sense it was still occupied by very

respectable families, though none of them possessed much of the
"goods that perish in the using" Mrs. Redburn, the seamstress,

was very respectable; Mrs. Colvin, the washer-woman, was very
respectable, so were Mrs. Howard, the tailoress, Mr. Brown, the

lumper, and Mr. Sneed, the mason.
Katy's mother lived in a small house, with three other families.

She occupied two rooms, for which she paid four dollars a month,
the amount of rent now due and unpaid. Dr. Flynch took a great

deal of pleasure in telling Mrs. Redburn how his humanity and his
regard for the welfare of the poor had induced him to fix the

rent at so cheap a rate; but he always finished by assuring her
that this sum must be promptly paid, and that no excuses could

ever have any weight.
The next house to Mrs. Redburn was tenanted by Mr. Sneed, the

mason. I don't know whether I ought to say that Mr. Sneed had a
son, or that Master Simon Sneed had a father, being at a loss to

determine which was the more important personage of the two; but
I am not going to say anything against either of them, for the

father was a very honest mason and the son was a very nice young
man.

Katy knocked at the door of this house, and inquired for Master
Simon Sneed. She was informed that he had not yet finished his

dinner; and she decided to wait in the court till he made his
appearance. Seating herself on the door stone, she permitted her