husband had been drowned in a wreck while crossing, and she was reduced to great poverty, and had also, from exposure, contracted disease of the lungs, which, the doctor said, must terminate fatally in a few months.  My brother took charge of her, and has supported us ever since, now four months, by working at the editorship of the Lacustrian Intelligencer, with such small assistance as I could give by music lessons.  It involved severe labour at desk work and late hours, and his health has latterly given way, his back and lower limbs being gradually affected, and last Monday even his hands proved helpless.  My poor mother broke another blood-vessel on Sunday, and died ten minutes later.  My brother desired me to sell his dear violin and his watch to pay the funeral expenses, but after that I know not what we can do, as he is quite helpless, and can hardly be left even for the sake of my small earnings.  Dear Lady Travis Underwood, pray help us, as I know you and Sir Ferdinand love my poor dear generous brother, and will not think him ungrateful for having declined your kindness while he could support himself and us.  No doubt we shall get help from England, but not for some time, so I dare to ask you.

                                  “I remain, your humble servant,
          
                                             “LUDMILLA.

“P.S.-—Everybody knows him as Jerry Wood.  We are at Mr. MacMahon’s, 14 Huron Street.”

This sad letter, in Lida’s neat pupil-teacher’s hand, came enclosed within a longer letter from Marilda.

“Grand National Hotel, Jonesville. 
“July 23rd.

“MY DEAR GERALDINE,

“You will believe that this letter from poor Lydia made Fernan telegraph at once to her, and hurry off as soon as we could reach the train.  We found things quite as bad or worse than we expected.  The poor children were living in two rooms in a wretched little house of an Irish collier, who with his wife happily has been very kind to them, and says that nothing could surpass their goodness to that poor mother of theirs, who, she tells me, ‘made a real Christian end’ at last.  I am sure she had need to do so.

“The burial was happily over, conducted by the French priest, as the woman was a Roman Catholic to the last.  Gerald was sitting up by the window, so changed that we should not have known him, except for the wonderful likeness to Felix that has come upon him.  It seems that he had not only all the writing of that horrid paper to do, but all the compositor’s work, or whatever you call it.  The people put upon him when they saw how well he could do it, and he could not refuse because his mother needed comforts, and he durst not get thrown out of employment.  He went on, first with aching back, then his legs got stiff and staggering, but still he went on, and now it has gone into his hands; he cannot hold a pen, and can hardly lift a tea-cup.  But he is so cheerful, almost merry.  The doctor