"Good evening, Balch. Bless me! how gloomy you look here, after coming from the glare and music of the opera, its ladies and its jewels; you are as good as a nightmare, sitting there with your one bachelor candle, keeping that miserable fire company. One would think your veins were turned to ice, or that there was not a bright eye left in the world to make the blood leap through them. Turn up the gas, sing us a song, hand out a cigar; you are as solemn as a sexton."

"I dare say," replied Balch, in a melancholy key, as he languidly turned on the gas for his friend, and set a box of cigars before him. "I know I am not good company, so I shall not advise you to stay."

"A woman in the case, I dare be sworn," said Gerritt, lighting a cigar, "Lord bless 'em, they are always at the top and bottom of every thing!"

Balch gave the anthracite a poke, crossed his slippered feet, folded his arms, and looked at Gerritt.

"I knew it," said Gerritt. "I am acquainted with all the symptoms of that malady; let's have it, Balch; you can tell me nothing new in the way of woman's twistings and turnings. Bless 'em!"

"Bless 'em?" exclaimed Balch, unfolding his arms, placing both hands on his knees and staring in Gerritt's face. "Bless 'em?"

"Yes; bless 'em. I knew what I was saying, well enough. Bless 'em, I repeat, for if they do not give a man more than five rapturous moments in a life time, it is well worth being born for. Fact;" said Gerritt, as the speechless Balch continued gazing at him.

"Did you ever see Mrs. Markham?" asked Balch, finding voice.

The solemnity with which he asked the question, and his whole tout ensemble at that moment, was too much for Gerritt, who burst into an uproarious laugh.

"Ah, you may laugh," said Balch, "it is all very well; but I wish there was not a woman in the world."

"Horrible!" said Gerritt. "I shan't join you there; but who was this Mrs. Markham?"

Balch moved his chair nearer to Gerritt, and shutting his teeth very closely together, hissed through them,

"The very d—l."

"Is that all?" said the merry philosopher. "So is every woman, unless you get the right side of her. Women are like cats; you must 'poor' them, as the children say, the right way of the fur, unless you want them to scratch. I suppose you did not understand managing her."

"Were you ever on a committee of an Orphan Asylum?" asked Balch, solemnly.

"No—no;" laughed Gerritt. "Why, Balch, I beg pardon on my knees, for calling you and your den here, funereal; I have not laughed so hard for a twelvemonth."

"Because," said Balch, not heeding his friend's raillery; "I have, and Mrs. Markham was the matron."

"O—h—I see," said Gerritt. "You thought her an angel, and she thought that you thought the children under her care were well cared for, when they were not; is that it?"

"Ex-actly," said Balch, in admiration of his friend's penetration; "it was awful how that woman deceived every body. I don't mind myself, though I must say that I never want to see any thing that wears a petticoat again, till the day of my death; but those poor children, I can't get over it; and I one of the investigating committee, too! It was infamous that I did not look into things closer. But, Gerritt, you see, that Mrs. Markham—" and Balch looked foolish.

"I understand;" said Gerritt. "I see the whole game; well, what did you say about it? I suppose you did not content yourself with resigning?"

"No, indeed, and that comforts me a little. I had her turned out. I don't suppose (she was so plausible) that I should have believed Gabriel himself, had be told me any thing against her; but I saw her with my own eyes one day, when I called unexpectedly, abuse those children. She did not know I was within hearing, and tried afterward to gloss it over; it wouldn't do; and then, when the scales had fallen off my eyes, I looked back and saw a great many other things to which that scene gave me the clew. Then I went to Timmins and Watkins, two of her assistants, and after making me promise not to get them into any difficulty about it, they told me things that would make your very flesh creep; and I one of the investigating committee; but that Mrs. Markham was—"

"I have no doubt of it," said Gerritt; "but, my dear fellow, there is always a drop of consolation to be squeezed out of every thing. Suppose you had married her!"

Balch jammed the poker furiously into the anthracite, shaking his head mournfully the while, and the laughing Gerritt withdrew.

"Yes, yes," said Balch, "that is lucky; but poor little Tibbie! poor little Tibbie! that will not bring her back to life; and poor little Rose, too—and I one of the investigating committee! It is dreadful."