With the exception of her mother's pleasant parlor in Old England, she had never before seen any thing which seemed to her so cosy and cheerful as did that little room, with its single bed, snowy counterpane, muslin curtains, clean matting, convenient toilet table, and what to her was fairer than all the rest, upon the mantel-piece there stood two small vases, filled with sweet spring flowers, whose fragrance filled the apartment with delicious perfume.
All this was so different from the bare walls, uncovered floors, and rickety furniture of the poor-house, that Mary trembled lest it should prove a dream, from which erelong she would awake.
"Oh, why is Mrs.Mason so kind to me ?" was her mental exclamation; and as some of our readers may ask the same question, we will explain to them that Mrs.Mason was one of the few who "do to others as they would others should do to them." Years before our story opens, she, too, was a lonely orphan, weeping in a dreary garret, as ofttimes Mary had wept in the poor-house, and it was the memory of those dark hours, which so warmed her heart towards the little girl she had taken under her charge.

From Jenny we have learned something of her history.

Once a happy, loving wife, surrounded by wealth and friends, she had thought the world all bright and beautiful.

But a change came over the spirit of her dream.

Her noble husband died,--and the day succeeding his burial, she was told that their fortune, too, was gone.