manager. I'll arrange it all; you're a capital size-what age

"Emma is ten," observed Chip. "Oh dear!" he continued, in an altered tone, "I forgot the great obstacle !"

"What is it?" inquired Julius, beginning to tremble. "The outside business, my boy."

"I have no money," observed Julius; "I must not be proud." "I have done the outside work all my life," resumed Chip; "and I've always done it cheerfully, for I knew that clowns seldom rise in the world. I was born amid the sawdust, and I have a kind of affection for this sort of existence; one sees and learns so much by travelling. I am aware that a showman is scoffed at; yet we have had some bright spirits amongst us-men who have gone forth into the Great City and outshone every actor in it. Ah!" continued he, "this is a hard school! yet its hardness has certain advantages; and if a fellow have stuff in him, it quickly brings it out."

"I've made up my mind," said Julius; "I'll not kick at the outside business, provided I can get practice. I want to improve, to get to London; what's the salary?"

"There's the rub, my boy; much is the work and little is the pay. You'll have to serve a week upon trial."

"I have not a farthing; my bundle, which I lost, held all I possessed in the world."

"Never mind, I'll help you," said Chip; "your services will spare my poor wife, who is not fit to dance now; she caught a cold while travelling last winter, and ever since she has gradually drooped and pined. She doesn't say much about her sickness; but I know she is aware that she has not long to be with us."

Oh, sir, she may get better," said Julius.

"Never, never!" exclaimed Chip emphatically. "I don't know what has tempted me to talk thus to a stranger; but I suppose one thing brings on another, as the saying is."

CHAPTER II.

THE next evening Julius became a member of Richardson's company, at a salary of eight shillings per week. His talents had been tested by the manager, who found that the youth had not overrated his own abilities; also, that he was quick, intelligent, clever, ambitious, and desirous to please.

Emma Chipperton and Julius soon outstripped their compeers, and the young girl and her companion were no longer compelled to dance outside the booth; all display of their talents being especially reserved for those persons who paid their money to witness the legitimate performances within.

From one town to another, and from fair to fair, the company migrated during the summer months; but, at the end of autumn, their tent was pitched in a town far north, where they generally remained for a period of three months.

Julius and Emma Chipperton had now become fast friends; they practised and read together, and the youth was well pleased when he could explain to the little danseuse the meaning and pronunciation of any word, or teach her a new step. Emma's nature was simple, trustful, and most affectionate; she loved her parents beyond all the world, and deemed her utmost devotion too poor a return for the lavish and unceasing fondness which they daily bestowed upon her. She had watched her mother fade, and seen her each day grow weaker and weaker; she had heard her hollow cough, and marked her glittering eyes and pink cheeks; but the little girl knew not that death was approaching with rapid footsteps; and that the loved face whose every look she waited upon with the tenderest solicitude, would soon be hidden for ever from her gaze.

The last leaves of autumn were falling, and the crazy window of a very humble chamber shook and rattled as the chilly blast blustered for admission.

Stretched on a low curtainless bed lay the wasted form of

Mrs. Chipperton; a rushlight, in a tin candlestick, and a vial of medicine were on the table by her side. The apartment was almost dark, and the sick woman's hard breathings were the only audible sounds in it, when the angry wind without lulled for a time.

"How long will they be?" moaned she. "Oh! I hope they will arrive before I die. I told them I was bettermuch better and so I am, for death is near. Poor Emma !" she gasped, endeavouring to kneel in the bed, "I should like to pray for her to thank God, again and again, for the treasure He gave me in my gentle child. Is that rain I hear?" said she, starting and listening. "I hope not, for Emma has no cloak-that, too, was pawned for me. My sickness has dragged them down to absolute poverty. Oh, how I wish they would come !—it is terrible to die alone !" Mrs. Chipperton's eyes closed, and she appeared to slumber.

"So your mother is better to night?" said Julius, as he stood by Emma's side, ready for their dance.

"Much better; indeed, so much better, that she insisted on our leaving her alone."

"And did you do so?"

"I had no money to give the woman for her watching— I had spent the last penny I possessed," faltered Emma. "No money, Emma?" exclaimed Julius. "And you have left your mother without help, because you had no money!"

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Oh, Julius! without money you can do nothing. A farthing would purchase a crust of bread, which would save the beggar from starvation; but, if he haven't that little coin, he must die. Oh, how much I have prized a halfpenny, when it would buy the orange which my dear mother craved for; but Julius, of late I have been without even a halfpenny, and my mother has gone without the orange. have sold-pawned everything; we are terribly in debt. You have lent us money, others have lent us money, and the woman would no longer tend my darling mother, because I had no longer money to give her. Julius, Julius," added the girl shudderingly, "I hate the word money!"

I

"Emma, I've sixpence in my waistcoat pocket," said he; "after our dance is finished, I'll give it to you, and you shall also take your mother a couple of oranges."

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Nay, Julius —”

6

"But I say yes, Julius.' I don't owe the orange-woman anything," he continued, so I shall ask her to trust me till

Saturday next."

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Emma put her hand on Julius's shoulder; the curtain rose, the orchestra burst into a strain of light joyous music, and, with a smile on her face, the girl bounded on the stage."

There is no profession in the world demands such total abandonment of self as that of the actor; for he must forget, in his vocation, all aches of mind and body; he must laugh when his frame is tortured with pain, and his soul is racked with sorrow and anguish, he is the puppet that must laugh or cry at the pull of the string.

A sickly smile spread over Emma's face while she danced; and Julius, for the first time, observed that she had grown thinner and weaker, for her steps were uncertain, and the elasticity of her movements was gone. The brightness of her countenance had vanished, and she now looked worn and spiritless, instead of radiant and happy. Emma had never been a child: those children who emerge from the cradle to the stage become men and women in thought and feeling long before the period of their infancy is past, for they are constantly in the society of thinkers and brainworkers; they hear daily the language of Shakspeare, Otway, Sheridan, and other great writers, and their plastic minds receive lessons beyond all school-teaching. Thus, the children whose minds are early imbued with a love of poetry and romance at once eschew the doll, the rockinghorse, the hoop, and the top; for their little hearts are filled with hopes of attaining a high position in a first-class theatre in the great metropolis. Such is the country actor's dream by day and night, by night and day, till, at last, after struggles, pinchings, and sore privations, he wakes on the brink of the grave-wakes and finds—nothing!

Chip was sitting ankle-deep in sawdust, rapt in moody musing. This man, though a clown, was the total reverse of all that was ignorant and vulgar: his breast was the

home of warm affections; and he loved his gentle wife, in her now pale helplessness, better than when he first wedded her. He feared for Emma's reason, should her mother die; therefore he clung unto her with a sort of wild devotionhung on her every look, and watched and tended her with double care. Everybody remarked that Chip-merry Chip, as he was called-was sadly changed, and that he had entirely lost his alacrity and buoyancy of spirits; he had grown absent and melancholy, and went through his business in a dreamy mechanical manner, widely different from his former mode.

Father, I am ready," said Emma, as she stood by his side after the performance was finished.

"Good girl: what's the hour?"

"Near twelve,” replied she, hurriedly tying her bonnetstrings.

Where's your cloak?—it is raining fast."

"I-I forgot it," stammered Emma; never mind the cloak, dear father," added she, leaving the booth; "think of my poor mother, who is all alone."

"You will get wet through," said Chip, as they walked forth into the pelting rain. "Oh, Emma, Emma! you will catch cold," he continued ; 'you are heated, after dancing." "Don't be angry, father; I will run fast-I am not very tired to-night."

So, hand-in-hand they ran on; while the rain, which poured down in torrents, beat into their faces and drenched their thin garments. The streets were in wretched repair, and owing to the neighbourhood in which the clown lodged being badly lighted, the speed of their footsteps was of necessity much retarded.

At length they came to an alley, in which the houses were high, dark, and dismal. The alley had a hollow sound, and an echo answered every footfall or whisper within it. Each of its dwellings was occupied by four or five families, who were all employed either in factories or at the weaver's loom. In one of the above-mentioned habitations poor Chip rented two miserable apartments: his wife's long illness had so crippled his means-never large,—that he could no longer pay for decent lodgings, and therefore was glad of any shelter that could be procured at a cheap rate. He had