John, thinking this to be the price of the fruit, immediately returned with it to the fruit-woman, who was still more pleased with him, from this fresh proof of his honesty and goodness. He now made his usual signs to Julie that she should inquire about a sleeping place. He soon saw by the smiling looks of the good woman, that their petition for a night's lodging was granted, and he felt very grateful that they had so soon found a home in that great busy city, where every one seemed to be so much occupied with their own thoughts and business, that John had felt much more solitary and neglected since he had come amongst them, than he had ever felt whilst he was travelling along through country roads and meadows, and had only come now and then to a cottage, where the people seemed to have more leisure and inclination to attend to him. In fact, the good fruit-woman had quite taken a fancy to the two strange children, from their honesty, good behaviour, and fondness for each other, and she felt scarcely less pleased than they did, when they were both happily settled in her nice little lodgings.

In return for all the kindness to them, John endeavoured to make himself as useful as possible to her; and he really was a great assistance to his kind friend, by carrying the baskets of fruit to the houses of the people who purchased them at the stall, and by going on all kinds of errands for her, when out of doors, and when at home, by rubbing the fruit, arranging it in the baskets for the next day's sale, picking out the best leaves and placing them among the fruit so as to make it look more tempting, besides various other little jobs in the household, which made him quite a valuable helpmate.

As for little Julie, she was not able to do much to assist, but her sweet merry face, happy voice, and playful gaiety, made her a most charming companion to their kind friend; and as for her young protector, John, he doted upon her more and more every day, while she, on her part, was so fondly attached to him that she would never, upon any account, be prevailed upon to quit him. In all his walks she accompanied him; during his work she would constantly sit by him, and either sing him some songs, of which she seemed to know an immense number, or merely smile, pat his face, chatter French to him, dance about, and, in short, use every means in her power to amuse and please him; or if he were sent on any message, she was sure to be trotting beside him, helping him to carry the basket or parcel, and trying, by all kinds of little winning ways, to make the way seem short and pleasant.

In the meantime, John Barton never for a moment lost. sight of the main object which had induced him to come to Paris, so far from his own dear mother, and his own home in the little cottage under the cliffs. Whenever he was out, in all his long ramblings through the large city, he never failed to look at all the faces he met, in the hope of seeing one like that which he had often heard his mother describe as belonging to the French gentleman, who had been so much benefited by his father. Every name that he saw written up, he took pains to spell out as well as he could, for he thought he had heard his mother mention it, though he could not recollect the exact sound, and he thought that, if he were to see it, it might be recalled to his mind; these were very slender chances, and the poor little boy began at last to despair of ever suc

ceeding, when an event occurred which proved that God never deserts those that are really persevering, cheerful, and hearty in their efforts to help themselves.

One fine morning John was sent with a message from the fruit-woman to one of her customers who lived in a distant part of the city, and, as he was returning, he stopped for an instant to look at a handsome cabriolet which stood opposite the door of a fine large house. Just at that moment a piercing scream from Julie made him turn his head abruptly round, and, to his horror, he beheld her stretched upon the pavement apparently dead! whilst a gentleman was bending over her, and raising her from the ground.

John ran towards his darling little friend, and lifting her head gently in his arms, beheld her face perfectly pale and motionless. He burst into tears at this dreadful sight, and broke forth into reproaches against the gentleman (who, in passing quickly to his cabriolet, appeared to have knocked the little girl down), forgetting that he was speaking English, and would therefore most probably not be understood.

However, the gentleman mildly replied, in the same language, though with a foreign accent, "My little friend, I am exceedingly sorry to have hurt your sister; but I cannot imagine how it was she fell, for I scarcely seemed to touch her. I think it must have been something else which frightened her, for the poor little thing is in a swoon. Baptiste," added he, calling to a servant who stood by, "lift this little one carefully in your arms, and lay her on the sofa in the parlour."

The servant obeyed: and John, seeing they were carrying away his dear little Julie, loudly protested against it.

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My dear little friend," said the gentleman, leading John into the house, "be patient; we are only going to try to recover your sister from her fainting fit."

John followed the gentleman into a superbly furnished apartment, where he saw his beloved little friend placed carefully on a soft sofa, where she continued to lie for some time, perfectly still and pale. As John hung over her, sobbing, and endeavouring as well as he could to assist in the efforts made by the gentleman and his servants to restore her, he at last beheld her colour come a little into her cheeks, and he had the pleasure of feeling her breath come upon his face as she sighed and turned a little round.

"Où est mon cher papa? Jái cru l'avoir vu. Est ce un songe?" said she, in a faint voice.

"Great God! it is my child! it is my little Julie! it is my dear daughter!" exclaimed the gentleman, and rushing to the sofa, he caught the little girl in his arms and covered her with kisses, while she, in her turn, flung her arms round his neck and stifled him with weeping and joyful caresses.

John in astonishment beheld this scene, and wondered what could be its meaning, when the gentleman, after indulging in a long embrace of his dear little girl, at last turned to where he was standing, and said:-" And how came you, my little Englishman, to be with my dear child?" "Is Julie your daughter, Sir?" asked John, in amazement.

"Yes, my long-lost child, for whom I have grieved these last two years; and whom I feared I should never see again; but come, tell me how you came to be with her; come tell me the whole story."

* "Where is my dear papa? I thought I had seen him. Is it a dream?"