WITH A WINE-GLASS. © 9

“Ol my law—thhad+tbha! I suppose he
was overtaken, honest man, when it hap-
pened. O, my! its at the top of the tree
James Livermore would ha’ been years ago,
if he hadn’t a turn for DIGGING HIS GRAVE
WITH A WINE-GLASS.”
_ “Well,” said the girl, with deepened color
and flashing eyes, “he’s not the only one
with a fault.”

ee No, more’s the grief of the world, he.
is not; and that fault in particular counts
its hundreds and thousands. But your moth-
er, Nelly — sure it must be hard times when
pretty Polly Livermore’s daughter turns into
soft shoes and takes her sate on a curb-stone! ”

‘Yes, Mrs. Byrne, the times are hard ;—
but there’s Nancy Bayne signing to me over
the way. I must run, for she was to have
a chance of some cherry-cheeked apples —.
and Nancy and I always go shares.” She
snatched up her basket, flopped through the