“In thinking of the present, I do not forget the past; I remember the days of old, the years in which we were made glad;—­and you, father, when free from these walls, will you not return again to your family, and make home what it once was?  To-day I will see Mr. Legrange; he wants a clerk, and, by a little persuasion, I am certain I can get you the situation.  Will you not reform?”

She could say no more; yet her actions spoke louder than words could possibly do, and her imploring attitude went home to the heart of her parent.  He, for the first time since the commencement of his wayward course, felt that the hand of sympathy was extended to greet him, should he make a motion to return.  And why should he not grasp it?  He did.  There, in that prison-cell, upon his knees, he promised to repent and return.

“Pleasant residence, Miss!” said the gate-keeper, as our heroine left the yard, and then laughed as though he had committed a pun that would immortalize him from that time forth.

She noticed not his ill-mannered remark, but, reentering the carriage, thought of nothing but the joy her mother would feel upon learning her success, till the carriage stopped and the driver let down the steps.  Having related her adventure, she left her home with the intention of seeing Mr. Legrange.

Mr. Legrange was a merchant on Cadiz wharf; he was wealthy, and as benevolent as wealthy.  Notices were often seen in the papers of large donations from him to worthy institutions, sometimes one and sometimes three thousand dollars.  His fellow-men looked upon him as a blessing to the age.  There was no aristocracy in him; he did not live like a prince in the costliest house in the city, but a small, neat tenement was pointed out as his abode.  Not only was he called the “Poor Man’s Friend,” but his associate and companion.  He did not despise the poor man, and wisely thought that to do him good he must live and be upon an equality with him.

Mr. Legrange had just opened an evening paper, when a light rap at his counting-house door induced him to lay it aside.  Opening it, a young woman inquired if Mr. Legrange was in.

“That is my name,” was the reply.  “Good-morning, Miss Lang.”

Julia was rejoiced that she was recognized.  She had not spoken to Mr. Legrange since her father’s failure in business; previous to that sad occurrence she had known him personally, yet she scarcely thought he would know her now.

“This is a lovely day,” said Mr. Legrange, handing her a chair.  “Your mother is well, I hope.”

“As well as might be expected:  she will recover fast, now.”

“Indeed!  What?  Some glad news?”

“Yes, sir; father is in the city, and has reformed.”

“Thank God for that!” said Mr. Legrange.  “It is one of the blessings of this life to hope for better days.”

“He has reformed,” continued Miss Lang, “yet he may be led back unless he gets steady employment; and I heard that—­”