"Bless my heart!" muttered he; "I'm half blinded by that confounded orange. I asked you whether the lad was all right? I want to know whether anything struck him ?"

"Noa; yo got it aw."

By this time the clown had reached Richardson's booth; but, instead of ascending the steps in front, as everybody expected he would, he darted under the platform, and disappeared as if by magic.

There was now a wild and scrambling rush up the boothsteps: people paid their money and hastened in to secure the best seats, in order to see "what th' funny chap war gooin' to do wee t' lad;" and various were the conjectures entertained on the subject by those whose curiosity had led them to enter Richardson's show, without looking at a bill, or inquiring what was to be acted for their amusement. Expectation was wound up to a high pitch, and the audience eagerly waited the clown's entrance.

"Is he gooin' to cut t' lad's yhead off, an' stick' un on agin aw reet as it war afoor?" asked one of the audience. Dunno," returned another; "he mun ha' dealin' wee t' divil, if he do."

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"It's moy 'pinion, neighbours," said an old woman, joining in the conversation of those about her; "it's moy 'pinion that aw conjurors an' play-actin' folk ha' summut to do wi' oud Nick."

Eh, my goodness!" exclaimed a young woman, clasping her baby closer to her bosom; "do 'ee think thatens about 'em?"

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Ay, 'a doos."

"'A thinks 'a 'll goo moy ways whoam," said the young woman, starting up.

"Sit still

an' doant 'ee be a foo!" said her husband. We must now follow the clown, who, with his burden, had so suddenly disappeared.

The canvas door, through which he passed, communicated with that part of the booth which served as dressing-room to the male portion of the company. Here the clown laid Julius on the ground, which was covered with a thick layer of sawdust, and speedily set about loosening his neckerchief and waistcoat. The bell

rang for the performance to commence, and the whole of the actors left the platform, and descended to the place where the clown was kneeling over the still insensible Julius.

"By Mars! I swear here's the veritable hero!" cried a tall man, with bushy whiskers and a long black beard.

"Why here's old Chip turned doctor!" exclaimed

another.

"Well, you've caused a nice commotion in the fair," said a squat little woman, who wore an enormous plume of feathers and a very short dress. "I wonder what Mrs. Chipperton will say about your philanthropy ! Oh, here she is!"

"What is the matter?" asked a pretty, delicate-looking woman, whose figure was enveloped in a woollen cloak. "Are you hurt? Has there been any accident? Where's Emma?" After these questions a violent fit of coughing seized her. The clown looked at the woman anxiously and affectionately.

"Don't distress yourself," he said gently; "there's nothing wrong, but that terrible cough of yours.'

"I can't help it," returned Mrs. Chipperton faintly; "I don't go outside now. I keep myself well wrapped up, as you see: to be sure the dress is a very thin one, and a very cold one too-fairy dresses always are so." And again she coughed in her handkerchief, which she kept rolled up in her hand, no doubt in order to hide the spots of blood with which the cambric was stained.

"Have you any hartshorn?" asked Chip; "a few drops might revive this poor lad."

"Where did he come from? Dear, dear, I don't understand who he is," said Mrs. Chipperton, in a wailing voice. “Ah!” she added, "you want hartshorn; I'll call Emma." Lifting up a piece of canvas which separated the dressingplaces, she continued, "Emma, look in my basket for a bottle."

"Yes, mother," answered a sweet girlish voice.

"Make haste, darling."

"Here, mother, here is the bottle," said Emma, running up to Mrs. Chipperton; are you ill, mother dear?"

"No, no, darling; your father wants the hartshorn for

C

this poor boy," said Mrs. Chipperton, pointing to Julius, who was now sitting up, looking more dead than alive.

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Chip's wanted," said a rough voice behind the canvas.

"All right!" responded the clown, mechanically rising; then, drawing Emma aside, he said, "Don't let your mother dance her solo to-day-you can do it for her, can't you, my pet?"

Every step, father," said the little girl, lifting up her pretty face for a kiss. "Don't fear, father dear; you shall see how well I'll dance; I'll not forget one step.'

"Bless you, my precious treasure," said the clown, in a choked voice; "what would old Chip be without his pretty daughter!"

"Who is the boy? what can I do for him?”

"Go and talk to him; you'll soon find out what to do for him," said Chip hurriedly. "There's my music-take care of your mother!" and with these words the clown disappeared behind the canvas.

Emma returned to her mother, who was giving Julius a cup of tea.

"How glad I am to see you better !"

"Thank you, miss," said Julius.

"Emma, there's your tea in the jug; I didn't pour it out," said Mrs. Chipperton.

"I won't have any tea till I have finished my dance," rejoined Emma.

"Our dance, you mean," said Mrs. Chipperton.

Hush, mother! please let me do it all—just for this one night,” pleaded the young girl, flinging her arms round her mother's neck, and burying her face in that bosom on which she had slumbered when a helpless babe.

"Am I in Richardson's booth?" asked Julius, swallowing the hot tea, and nearly scalding himself.

"Yes; don't you know where you are?" said Emma, opening her eyes very wide.

"I'm bothered! " said Julius; "I think I've been dreaming."

"When I've finished my dance, you shall tell me all about who you are, and who your father and mother are,” said Emma frankly.

"Mrs. Chipperton, it's near your time," said the same

rough voice, which had before spoken. "Miss Gaston is dead."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Chipperton. "Come, Emma."

"I'm coming," replied she; "there's a nice bit of breadand-butter for you," she added, handing him a large slice which she had just cut.

"What is your name?"

"Julius."

"May I call you Julius ?"

"I'd like to see you dance," said he musingly.

"Oh, I perceive you want me to call you Mr. Julius ?" said Emma, piqued.

"No, indeed! I don't care a pin what you call me; I want to see you dance."

"Emma, Emma, we are waited for!”

"Yes, mother; come along, Julius! you shall see me dance."

Julius followed the mother and daughter to the wings of the stage. The curtain was up, and the ballet had already commenced. A few bars of melancholy music were played, and Emma glided on the stage. A long shout of wonder and admiration greeted the little girl's appearance.

"How beautiful she is!" cried Julius, clapping his hands, and marking, with experienced eye, the ease, grace, and elegance of all her movements.

"I'm glad to see you better, my boy," said a voice close to Julius.

"I have much to thank you for," returned the youth, extending his hands.

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'By and by will do for thanks," said the clown. "What do you think of her?" he added, jerking his head towards his daughter. "That was her mother's dance; Em never did a step of it till this instant."

"Has she ever danced in London?" asked Julius simply. "Not she, poor child! getting to London is no easy matter, my boy."

"So I understand."

"If it were not for that girl, the people would have their own way with me to-day."

"What do you mean?" asked Julius.

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Why," returned Chip, "the donkeys have got an idea

into their thick heads; and the possession of such a novelty somewhat perplexes them. You see, they expected that I was going to perform some wondrous trick upon you; nay, I shouldn't be surprised if they thought I intended to swallow you. The ignorance of some of these Lancashire folk, especially in the coal districts, is really amazing! Talk of civilized England-bah! the brains of people in coal districts will always continue dark as the fossilized vegetable remains amongst which they live.

Julius, as he listened to the clown, felt himself grow older, and wiser; for he was greatly flattered that anybody should talk to him as Chip had talked : conversing with his elders made him feel more like a man.

"But how can your daughter help you? and what have I to do with the people here?" asked Julius; "I never saw Wigan till to-day."

"Indeed! then you are a stranger in these parts?"

Quite so."

A mutual explanation now took place. Julius told his story honestly, and Chip informed the youth how he had rescued him from the rude mob, a portion of which had come into the booth for the purpose of creating a disturbance; how he had been hooted at and pelted with rotten oranges, and how the audience, when he appeared, had hissed him so much that he was forced to go forward and tell them that, if they continued to abuse him, he would at once withdraw the services of his wife and daughter.

"I knew the little girl to be a prodigious favourite," continued Chip, "so I shook my hand of power at the wretches, and made the whole thing square."

"I am very sorry," said Julius.

"I'm not," returned Chip, "for I trust I may be able to do you service. Look-look at her now! she is going to dance again. There, there, she touches the ground with a foot soft and light as a feather!" and the fond father gleefully rubbed his hands together.

"Did I tell you that I could dance?" asked Julius.

"No; no, you didn't say a word about dancing."

"I should like to dance with her," said Julius, timidly pointing to Emma.

"So you shall; so you shall! I'll recommend you to the