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{those who monopolized the official charity = in 1821 the only officially supported charitable organization in New York City was the City Dispensary — municipal aid to others having been cut off in 1817 on the grounds that charity to the poor only made them lazy and improvident}

Whatever might be the impulses of the gentleman whom we have mentioned, his attention was too much absorbed by the conversation and manner of the two ladies to regard any thing else, and he followed them across the street, and stopped also when they paused to view the scene. He was inwardly and deeply admiring the most youthful of the females, for the natural and simple display of those very qualities that he forgot himself to exercise, when he was roused with a feeling of something like mortification, by hearing Charlotte exclaim, with a slight glow on her cheek–

“Ah! there is George Morton coming–he surely will not pass the poor man without offering to assist him.”

The gentleman turned his head quickly, and noticed a youth making his way through the crowd, successfully, to the side of the sufferer. The distance was too great to hear what passed–but an empty coach, whose driver had stopped to gaze with the rest, was instantly drawn up, and the man lifted in, and followed by the youth, whose appearance had effected these movements with the silence and almost with the quietness of magic.

George Morton was far from possessing the elegant exterior of the uneasy observer of this scene, yet were the eyes of the lovely young woman who had caught his attention, fixed in evident delight on his person, until it was hid from view in the carriage; when, drawing a long breath, as if relieved from great uneasiness, she said, in a low voice–

“I knew that George Morton would not pass him so unfeelingly–but where are they going?–not far, I hope, on this cold day–and George without his great coat.”

There was a plaintive and natural melody in the tones of the speaker’s voice, as she thus unconsciously uttered her concern, that impelled the listener to advance to the side of the carriage, where a short conversation passed between the gentlemen, and the stranger returned to the ladies, who were yet lingering near the spot, apparently unwilling to depart from a scene that had so deeply interested one of them. Raising his hat, the gentleman, addressing himself to the magnet that had attracted him, said–

“Your friend declines the offer of my coat, and says that the carriage is quite warm–they are going to the alms-house, and I am happy to inform you that the poor man is already much better, and is recovering from his fit.”

{The New York City Almshouse, at Bellevue on the East River, housed over 1,500 inmates at a time (with annual deaths approaching 500), and served as a last refuge for the destitute of all ages}

Charlotte now for the first time observed the speaker, and a blush passed over her face as she courtesied her thanks in silence. But her companion, aroused from gazing at the finery of a shop window, by the voice of the stranger, turned quickly, and with very manifest satisfaction, exclaimed–

“Bless me! Mr. Delafield–I did not observe you before!–then you think the poor wretch will not die?”

“Ah! assuredly not,” returned the gentleman, recognizing the face of an acquaintance, with an animation he could not conceal: “but how inadvertent I have been, not to have noticed Miss Osgood before!”–While speaking, his eyes rested on the lovely countenance of her friend, as if, by their direction, he meant to explain the reason of his remissness.

“We were both too much engaged with the sufferings of the poor man, for until this moment I did not observe you,” said the lady–with that kind of instinctive quickness that teaches the fair the importance of an amiable exterior, in the eyes of the other sex.