Mrs. Gaston then sat down by the table with Henry and Emma, and ate a small portion of bread and molasses. But this food touched not her palate with any pleasurable sensation. She ate only because she knew that, unless she took food, she would not have strength to perform her duties to her children. For a long series of years, her system had been accustomed to the generous excitement of tea at the evening meal. A cup of good tea had become almost indispensable to her. It braced her system, cleared her head, and refreshed her after the unremitting toils of the day. But, for some time past, she had felt called upon, for the sake of her children, to deny herself this luxury—no, comfort—no, this, to her, one of the necessaries of life. The consequence was that her appetite lost its tone. No food tasted pleasantly to her; and the labors of the evening were performed under depression of spirits and nervous relaxation of body.

This evening she ate, compulsorily, as usual, a small portion of dry bread, and drank a few mouthfuls of warm water in which a little milk had been poured. As she did so, her eyes turned frequently upon the face of Henry, a fair-haired, sweet-faced, delicate boy, her eldest born—the first pledge of pure affection, and the promise of a happy wedded life. Sadly, indeed, had time changed since then. A young mother, smiling over her first born—how full of joy was the sunlight of each succeeding day! Now, widowed and alone, struggling with failing and unequal strength against the tide that was slowly bearing her down the stream, each morning broke to her more and more drearily, and each evening, as it closed darkly in, brought another shadow to rest in despondency upon her spirit. Faithfully had she struggled on, hoping still to be able to keep her little ones around her. The proposition of Michael to put out Henry startled into activity the conscious fear that had for some months been stifled in her bosom; and now she had to look the matter full in the face, and, in spite of all her feelings of reluctance, confess to herself that the effort to keep her children around her must prove unavailing. But how could she part with her boy? How could she see him put out among strangers? How could she bear to let him go away from her side, and be henceforth treated as a servant, and be compelled to perform labor above his years? The very thought made her sick.

Her frugal meal was soon finished, and then the children were put to bed. After laying away their clothes, and setting back the table from which their supper had been eaten, Mrs. Gaston seated herself by the already nearly half burned penny candle, whose dim light scarcely enabled her failing eyesight to discern the edges of the dark cloth upon which she was working, and composed herself to her task. Hour after hour she toiled on, weary and aching in every limb. But she remitted not her labors until long after midnight, and then not until her last candle had burned away to the socket in which it rested. Then she put aside her work with a sigh, as she reflected upon the slow progress she had made, and, disrobing herself, laid her over-wearied body beside that of her sick child. Ella was asleep; but her breathing was hard, and her mother perceived, upon laying her hand upon her face, that her fever had greatly increased. But she knew no means of alleviation, and therefore did not attempt any. In a little while, nature claimed for her a respite. Sleep locked her senses in forgetfulness.

(To be continued.)

THE NEW SEWING-MACHINE.

It may interest some of our readers to know how this ingenious invention is applied to such various purposes of utility. The following brief account will explain the mode of operation:—

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The sewing-machine, of which a representation is now given, is about twelve inches square, and is driven by a wheel at the end of a main shaft which passes through the machine. The wheel can be driven either by the hand, foot, or steam-engine. From the top plate of the machine and at the side on which the wheel is placed, an arm rises to about ten inches and extends to the opposite or front side, in which arm is worked a lever which drives the vertical needle. This needle is attached to a sliding bar, worked by the arm. Underneath and below the plate of the machine is another needle of horizontal shape, which is fed by a bobbin or reel of thread also out of sight. Imagine the vertical needle as being threaded and supplied by a reel on the top of the arm, and the horizontal needle threaded as described, and the machine put in motion; the vertical needle would penetrate the cloth or other material, say half an inch below the surface, and, on being drawn back by the action of the machine, would leave a loop; when this loop is formed, and at the exact time, the horizontal needle enters it and holds the thread until the stitch is formed, when by a counter action it revolves back and throws the loop off and takes another. The machine is capable of stitching every part of any garment, except the buttons and button-holes, whether the work be light or heavy, coarse or fine; also for gaiters, boots, shoes, sacks, bags, sailcloths, tents, &c. &c. It is so simple in its construction and action that it may be worked by a child, and will sew a circle, curve, or turn a square corner, equally as well as a straight line. It is only twelve inches square, and is driven by the hand or foot. By the action of a screen in the machine, the stitch can be either lengthened or shortened, as may be desired. The machine feeds itself with both cloth and thread, and it is only necessary for the operator to guide the material to the needle to sew. It will with ease sew a yard per minute, stronger, more uniform, and consequently better than it is possible to be done by hand.