"Dear J.,
"Als up; farm broke. Weral inn for it.
"Yours,
"S. S."
This laconic epistle signified that the firm in whose warehouse Richard Jones was employed, had stopped payment Rich men lost their thousands, and eat none the worse a dinner; Richard Jones lost his week's wages, his future employment, and remained stunned with the magnitude of the blow.
His first thought flew to his child.
"How shall I pay Miss Gray for my little Mary's keep?" he exclaimed, inwardly.
He cast his look round the room to see what he could pledge or sell.
Alas! there was little enough there. His next feeling was,
"My darling must know nothing about it Thank God, she is not with me now!
Thank God!"
But, though this was some sort of comfort, the future still looked so dark and threatening, that Jones spent a sleepless night, tossing in his bed, and groaning so loudly, that his landlady forsook her couch to knock at his door, and inquire, to his infinite confusion, "if Mr. Jones felt poorly, and if there was anything she could do for him, and if he would like some hot ginger?" To which Mr. Jones replied, with thanks, "that he was quite well, much obliged to her all the same."