not spend a week at home in the blessed year; and the divil another help in the house but mysel’ and himsel’, Mr. Slocum.  A decent man is that same Slocum, too,” pursues the maid, with a laconic indifference to the wants of the guest.  A dusty hat-stand ornaments one side of the hall, a patched and somewhat deformed sofa the other.  The walls wear a dingy air; the fumes of soapsuds and stewed onions offend the senses.  Mrs. Swiggs hesitates in the doorway.  Shall I advance, or retreat to more congenial quarters? she asks herself.  The wily hack-driver (he agreed for four and charged her twelve shillings) leaves her black box on the step and drives away.  She may be thankful he did not charge her twenty.  They make no allowance for distinguished people; Lady Swiggs learns this fact, to her great annoyance.  To the much-confused maid of all work she commences relating the loss of her luggage.  With one hand swinging the door and the other tucked under her dowdy apron, she says, “Troth, Mam, and ye ought to be thankful, for the like of that’s done every day.”

Mrs. Swiggs would like a room for the night at least, but is told, in a somewhat confused style, that not a room in the house is in order.  That a person having the whole heathen world on her shoulders should not have her house in order somewhat surprises the indomitable lady.  In answer to a question as to what time Mr. Slocum will be home, the maid of all work says:  “Och!  God love the poor man, there’s no tellin’.  Sure there’s not much left of the poor man.  An’ the divil a one more inoffensive than poor Slocum.  It’s himsel’ works all day in the Shurance office beyant.  He comes home dragged out, does a dale of writing for Mrs. Slocum hersel’, and goes to bed sayin’ nothin’ to nobody.”  Lady Swiggs says:  “God bless me.  He no doubt labors in a good cause-an excellent cause-he will have his reward hereafter.”

It must here be confessed that Sister Slocum, having on hand a newly-married couple, nicely suited to the duties of a mission to some foreign land, has conceived the very laudable project of sending them to Aleppo, and is now spending a few weeks among the Dutch of Albany, who are expected to contribute the necessary funds.  A few thousand dollars expended, a few years’ residence in the East, a few reports as to what might have been done if something had not interposed to prevent it, and there is not a doubt that this happy couple will return home crowned with the laurels of having very nearly Christianized one Turk and two Tartars.

The maid of all work suddenly remembers that Mrs. Slocum left word that if a distinguished lady arrived from South Carolina she could be comfortably accommodated at Sister Scudder’s, on Fourth Street.  Not a little disappointed, the venerable old lady calls a passing carriage, gets herself and black box into it, and orders the driver to forthwith proceed to the house of Sister Scudder.  Here she is-and she sheds tears that she is-cooped up in a cold, closet-like