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“Well,” said he, on entering, “I believe I have got to the bottom of this matter.”

“What matter?” asked Everton, looking slightly surprised.

“The matter of Ayres’s supposed attack upon you.”

“Why do you say supposed?”

“Because it was only supposed. Ayres didn’t write the article of which you complain.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen the editor of the Gazette.”

“Did he say that Ayres was not the author?”

“He did.”

“Who wrote it then?”

“A man named Tompkins, who was at the time employed in his office.”

Everton sprang from his chair as if he had been stung.

“Tompkins!” he exclaimed.

“So he says.”

“Can it be possible! And I have the viper in my employment.”

“You have?”

“Yes; he has filled the place of Ayres nearly ever since the latter was dismissed from my office.”

“Then you have punished the innocent and rewarded the guilty.”

“So much for taking a thing for granted,” said Everton, as he moved, restlessly, about the floor of his office.

So soon as the editor of the—-Journal was alone, he sent for Tompkins, who was in another part of the building. As the young man entered his office, he said to him, in a sharp, abrupt manner,–

“Do you remember certain articles against me that appeared in the Gazette a few months ago?”

The young man, whose face became instantly red as scarlet, stammered out that he did remember them.

“And you wrote them?”

“Ye–ye–yes; bu–but I have regretted it since, very much.”

“You can put on your hat and leave my employment as quickly as you please,” said Mr. Everton, angrily. He had little control of himself, and generally acted from the spur of the occasion.

Tompkins, thus severely punished for going out of the way to attack a man against whom he entertained a private grudge, beat a hasty retreat, and left Mr. Everton in no very comfortable frame of mind.

On being so unceremoniously dismissed from employment, Mr. Ayres, who was by nature morbidly sensitive, shrank into himself, and experienced a most painful feeling of helplessness. He was not of a cheerful, confident, hopeful disposition. He could not face the world, and battle for his place in it, like many other men. A little thing discouraged him. To be thrust out of his place so unceremoniously–to be turned off for another, stung him deeply. But the worst of all was, the supply of bread for his family was cut off, and no other resource was before him.

From that time, for three months, his earnings never went above the weekly average of five dollars; and he hardly knew on one day where he was to obtain employment for the next. His wife, though in poor health, was obliged to dispense with all assistance, and perform, with her own hands, the entire work of the family. This wore her down daily, and Ayres saw her face growing thinner, and her step becoming more feeble, without the power to lighten her burdens.

Thus it went on from week to week. Sometimes, the unhappy man would grow desperate, and, under this feeling, force himself to make applications–to him humiliating–for employment at a fair compensation. But he was always unsuccessful.

Sickness at last smote the frame of his wife. She had borne up as long as strength remained, but the weight was too heavy, and she sank under it.

Sickness and utter destitution came together. Ayres had not been able to get any thing at all to do for several days, and money and food were both exhausted. A neighbour, hearing of this, had sent in a basket of provisions. But Ayres could not touch it. His sensitive pride of independence was not wholly extinguished. The children ate, and he blessed the hand of the giver for their sakes; yet, even while he did so, a feeling of weakness and humiliation brought tears to his eyes. His spirits were broken, and he folded his arms in impotent despair. While sitting wrapt in the gloomiest feelings, there came a knock at his door. One of the children opened it, and a lad came in with a note in his hand. On breaking the seal, he found it to be from the publisher of the Gazette, who offered him a permanent situation at twelve dollars a week. So overcome was he by such unexpected good fortune, that he with difficulty controlled his feelings before the messenger. Handing the note to his wife, who was lying on the bed, he turned to a table and wrote a hasty answer, accepting the place, and stating that he would be down in the course of an hour. As the boy departed, he looked towards his wife. She had turned her face to the wall, and was weeping violently.