them; and it was scarce two years after he commenced law studies for the profession, before he was admitted to the bar, with the most cordial greetings, and gained two or three suits in the courts, which made him quite a reputation.

XXXIV.

I WOULD like to give as cheerful a chapter to every other friend as I have given to George Milbank; but I must continue to weave many sable threads with the brightest texture of my work. Amelia Dorlon re-appears in a character from which I would have given the world to save her. The temptations of false life in Merrimack were too powerful for her, and she yielded more and more to their delusive influence. The passion for dress, in which she had always been indulged; her love of flattery and favor, and her fondness for gay and extravagant life, increased with her years.

She was not without intelligence or a taste for worthy books and lectures at this time; but a passion for vainer pleasures predominated, and it was with grief and anxiety that her friends for the last few years had watched her steps. She was still kind-hearted as a child. She was handsome in appearance. She still maintained her chastity, although her conduct excited scandal and reproach. But she gave little heed to that injunction of the scripture which warns us to "abstain from all appearance of evil." And beside, she contracted little vices which nothing but true history would prompt me to record. She took no

step to secure that noble independence (so characteristic of New England) which so many of the factory girls maintained. She made no particular effort to rise by selfculture to a superior sphere. She made no deposits in the bank, and saved nothing to assist her mother. On the contrary, she spent all her wages as fast as they were due, on the vain endeavor of keeping up with the style of those who had their thousands to disburse. She accepted the addresses of many gay young men who were pleased with her beauty, and yet had no thought of “ stooping" to anything more serious than coquetry with her. She preferred a dance to a lecture at any time; and while we would have liked to see her at parties and balls on proper occasions, and during virtuous hours, she desired to go every week, and remain all night. She neglected more and more the circle of her old friends, and seemed better pleased with the smiles of some gay stranger than even her mother's love.

After receiving and dismissing a score of beaux, a person made her acquaintance, who declared his admiration, took her to amusements, and made her believe he was seriously in love. But he was a young man of wealth and fashion, and it required more than Amelia could earn at her looms, with all that her mother could assist her, to support her in a style becoming her new rank. She resorted to other means. She began to borrow a dollar here and there among the girls. Her lover continued his addresses, praised the rich taste of her toilet, and confirmed her in the belief, that within a month or two, he would lead her to the altar.

But she must have a white satin dress for that occasion, and how was it to be obtained? She had soon found that borrowing would not supply her resources; she was already tending more looms than her strength well bore; she had no rich papa or uncle to solicit for a present, and how in the world could the dress be obtained? She was

natively conscientious; she would not have stolen a book to keep herself from ignorance, nor a loaf of bread, before she would starve; but she must have the brilliant satin to adorn her anticipated bridal, and nothing, she resolved, should balk her desires. So she visited several stores in Merrimack with the determination of getting trusted. But her character had suffered so much of late, no one would give her credit for a satin dress, while no less than three gentlemen offered to trust her for a print or delaine. Neither of these would answer, and she went to another store with the intention of stealing a dress, and returning the pay as a case of conscience after she was married and had a rich husband's purse at her command. But stealing was entirely a new employment, and she returned to her mother's without having a conscience to attempt the fulfilment of her design.

The next evening she renewed her resolutions, but she found no opportunity to renew the attempt, and returned again disappointed. At length she went to Boston, and called down some fine satins on the counter, and while the clerk's attention was turned another way, she slipped a rich pattern under her shawl, and, pretending not to be suited, walked out of the store. But in the blindness of her passion, she could not see that sharp eyes even on

earth were watching her; and she had not been five minutes in her hotel, preparing to go home, before an officer entered and arrested her, and she was lodged in prison.

Conscience was now wakened, and she was overwhelmed with remorse and shame. She was questioned as to her name and residence, but, from pride and fear of having her crime known in Merrimack, she refused to tell. The questions were kindly repeated, but she covered her face, turned to the wall of her prison, and gave them sobs and moans for answers. The keeper's wife came in with a heart full of sympathy, and attempted to soothe her and give her refreshments, but no attention could she win.

The clerks at the store and officers of the police gave various conjectures concerning her character. Her face was so florid, and she was so fancifully dressed, it was thought by some she was a girl of the town; while others supposed her an accomplice of a band of thieves; and one or two were of the opinion that she had just come from the country, and this was her first step on the road to crime.

Her mother and friends at home, you may well conceive, were alarmed by her long absence, and various fears were expressed concerning her fate. Mrs. Dorlon begged that her absence might be kept from the papers until a thorough search had been made, while George Milbank volunteered to go to Boston in search of her.

Amelia continued moaning in the agony of shame, suspense and terror, and on the next morning, and at the following noon, she refused to take any nourishment, and