ment such conduct merits. In a day or two afterwards he repeated his visit, told her that he wished her to make him her confidant, and to tell him her situation, and whether she was his friend's neice. "Why do you ask these questions? Is it out of mere curiosity, or with a pure desire to do me a kind office?" As she uttered these words, her eye fixed a piercing look on the intruder. Her soul was alive to his reply. He answered," My designs are benevolent. I see that you are in trouble. My friend left the hotel on sabbath evening and took his baggage with him. You will see him no more. Many reports, disreputable to your good name, are afloat in the hotel. It is necessary that you should adopt some measures to protect yourself." Confounded by the intelligence, and believing that the stranger was sincere, she told him how she was situated; that she was not his friend's neice, and that she had been deceived, and betrayed, and led far from home, under the promise of marriage. "So I supposed," said the stranger; and again he assured her, on the word of a gentleman, that he was her friend-that he had compassion on her, and that he would aid her.

"But, madam, what will you do?" She replied that she expected her brother would be in the city soon, to purchase goods, and that she would return with him-and that she would secure the landlord for her board, with her jewels. He told her that the hotel was an expensive place in which to board; that as she had no friends in the city, and the circle of his acquaintance in New York was extensive, at her request he would procure for her a private and less expensive boarding-house, where she could make all the arrangements necessary to facilitate her return home.

At her request, but at his suggestion, or, as is more probable, at the suggestion of her false lover, he procured a boarding-house for her, and ordered a carriage to the door to convey her there. As they were entering the carriage, Mrs. J., the lady with whom she traveled, asked her where she was going, to which the stranger made reply, that he would inform Mrs. J. on his return, and that the lady's address should be given to Mrs. J. As the carriage was about moving off, he named to Mrs. J. the street and the number of the house where the lady was going, adding, it is not far distant, and she will frequently call on you. What a consummate hypocrite he was! He then knew that Mrs. J. would neither see her again, or know where she went.

The carriage moved off. Words smoother than oil, and civility exquisite as delicacy itself, characterized the man. In a familiarly pleasant manner he asked the lady if she would be so kind as to give him the hour of the day; for his avaricious eye saw at her side an elegant gold watch. "It is impossible," was her reply, 66 as my watch is not wound." "Shall I take it, madam? I will convey it to a silversmith, and furnish it with a key." "No," said the lady, "it is of little importance for me to know the time. Greater matters trouble me." The carriage had not yet proceeded far from the hotel. He ordered it to stop, got out, told the driver where to leave the lady, to whom the hollow-hearted soul said, "I will meet you at

the door." The carriage proceeded to the house. It was neither the house, nor was it in the street, he named at the hotel to Mrs. J.

As the carriage-door opened, she looked out to see the stranger, but he was not there. Disappointment once more caused a tremulous sensation to roll along her nerves, and agitate her heart. She entered the house, and was introduced to a splendid parlor, furnished in costly style. The mistress asked her to take a seat. She declined, and desired to see her chamber. She was led into a parlor, in the second story, no less sumptuously decorated than the one she had left. The stranger had not yet made his appearance. It was near night, and she was called to tea. In the evening she was invited into the lower parlor, but declined entering it, on hearing the voices of men. Pretending that she was wearied by her journey, and that she ought to retire to rest, she was shown an upper chamber, furnished with two beds, and was told that a female boarder occupied one of them.

Between one and two o'clock in the morning the door of her bedroom opened, and the occupier of the second bed entered. The lady was weeping, for sleep had not yet closed her aching eyes, or drowned the afflictive feelings of her heart. The girl inquired the cause of the lady's tears, and was answered by the lady in a plaintive tone, such as mental anguish gives, I am in a strange house, in a strange city, without a friend, far from home, whence I was led under the promise of marriage, and then deserted. Tears came out of the girl's eyes, as she stood and looked on the lady. Ah, well might she weep, for the lady had probably told her her own sad history. "Do you know where you are?" said the girl. "No," replied the lady. "You are in a house of assignation, madam, from which the mistress will not let you go. In this house you are confined, and must now enter on that course of life which I am compelled to pursue." The lady was smitten with horror at the intelligence, and wished to know how her escape could be effected. The girl gave her but little satisfactory information on that point, but advised her to feign sickness, that she might avoid seeing company, and added, "I will do all that I can for you, and that is but very little, for the outer doors are locked, and the keys are retained by the mistress."

In the morning the procuress entered the room, and found them in tears. The girl she reprimanded, and ordered below. The lady, in piteous voice, requested the privilege of leaving the house, without giving offense. The jailoress replied, "You must remain here until the gentleman by whom you was placed here comes for you." For the privilege of going into the street, and as the reward for liberty, the lady then offered to give her all the jewels and clothing she had. The old creature laughed at her, for, like her fellows, she sold chastity at a price, and gloried over this new piece of the richest article in the market, concluding, from a long and careful observation of many facts, that great gain would be the result of the rapid demand for it. Calculations of this kind are daily made, in the exchange of merchants, like herself, trading in virgin purity.

I shall not attempt to describe this lady's feelings, consequent on this interview. The fact, and the imagination coloring each part of

this fact, will aid the mind in conceiving the wretchedness of her situation. Suffice it to say that a reverse of fortune so sad, so sudden, so unexpected, so unmerited at the hands of her betrayers, added a keenness to her feelings, females reared in walks of life lower than hers, are incapable of feeling.

In the evening of this second day, returning from tea, she saw in the parlor a gentleman whose face was familiar. He was a merchant, well known to her family, and at whose store she had often traded. A fine place for merchants, whose wives and daughters are at home!! From him she anticipated a kind reception. She hoped that he would be to her an angel of mercy, and the deliverer of her soul from the guilt of suicide. She drew near to him, stated her case, and asked him to take her away from that house. He was sitting over his wine, as debauchees usually do, and felt no concern about the lady. "Oh," said the impure drunkard, "God's men must help you, I can't"-a sentiment in keeping with his practice. Indeed the devil seldom rescues his subjects from ruinous roads, or allows his servants to do it. For her consolation, however, he informed her that she would soon love her situation, and be contented there. "Oh, sir," with deep revoltings of soul, said the afflicted and unpitied woman, " I shall sooner commit suicide than yield to a life of infamy. I am resolved. Choice does not place me here. Pray tell not my relatives where you saw me." Then she turned away from him, under a more deep depression of soul than she had yet felt, and went into her polluted chamber, and passed a night in meditations as doleful as a daughter of that merchant yet may-for God visits the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generations of those that hate him.

On Friday, the third day of her imprisonment, her keeper was much enraged at her for violating one of the laws of her house. The lady desired to know what that law was. "What it is? Why it is to - sit in the parlor in the evening, which you have refused to do." "Oh,” said the lady, "I cannot sit there with such degraded company as that which resorts to your infamous house." Her keeper was vexed. She told the lady that she should comply with the rules of her house, and that she should receive the company of gentlemen, too!! "Madam," replied the prisoner, "I have been reared a lady, and shall receive from you no other treatment than that to which a lady is entitled." The exasperated keeper said that she would lock the lady in the chamber. She also uttered other sayings too foul and polluting to be repeated. The lady cowered before the majesty of her wrath, and tried to operate on her humanity, but the jailoress scoffed at her feelings and petitions, and closed the interview by saying, "So soon as it is known that I have a lady in my house, it will draw gentlemen here!!"

While on the journey to the city, she reserved for immediate use but seventy-five cents, having given the balance of her money for safe keeping to her betrayer. He did not return it to her. But she had money enough to secure the antidote she sought. Assisted by the domestic, she purchased a vial of poison-black drop-with which she resolved to terminate her life that evening. And to pro

tect herself that day from barbarous insult, she locked herself in the chamber. By the additional means of trunks, and other furniture placed against the door, it was so effectually fastened and barricaded, that no one could enter it, though several attempts were made. On this awful day, in close confinement, believing that every soul in the house was her enemy, she looked death in all his ghastly features full in the face. In her hand she held the vial that contained the designed instrument of her execution. She reasoned, and as she reasoned she recollected the history of the unfortunate girl the Magdalen society rescued. And cannot the Magdalen society rescue me? thought this child of crime and sorrow. But they do not know my situation, was her instant reply. Then it occurred to her that if she could by any means get a letter to the chaplain, or to one of the directors of the society, that her escape might be made. Under the influence of this hope, she offered some of her most valuable clothing and jewels to her room-mate, to convey to the society a letter for her. The girl would not attempt it, and the mistress hooted at the lady, and sported with her feelings and conscientious scruples, as procuresses usually do to the females they get in their power.

Still the desire of life, and the hope of effecting an escape, induced her to put off the laying of violent hands on herself that evening. "I will wait until Saturday," said the prisoner, as she viewed the laudanum and thought of the grave. Saturday evening arrived, and still she hesitated to inflict the dreadful stroke. "I will try another day," said the desponding, heart-broken, suicide-meditating woman, "The sabbath is at hand. It is possible that my rescue may be effected by some gentleman who will visit the house to-morrow. It cannot be that the heart of every man who treads these polluted haunts is entirely bereft of fellow-feeling. Then I will throw myself on the protection of some one." Her soul then breathed a strong desire to God for divine interposition. She felt, she believed that an omnipresent God could hear, and that an omniscient being knew the secret feelings and desires of the spirits he formed. Her last hope was in the living God, for she had found by experience that debauchees are not inclined to rescue unfortunate women from ruin.

She remained in close imprisonment in her chamber, from Friday till sabbath evening, and was nearly famished. The girl on one of two occasions, by stealth, brought a little cake to her door; for the keeper refused to give her food in the chamber. It was sabbath evening. Deliverance or death was to be effected that night. So she resolved. Bracing her soul to the steady purpose, she unbarred her door, and descended to tea. The mistress was called from the tea-table, to see her daughter in another house. After tea she placed herself on the sofa in the parlor, and there calmly waited for the alternative. A rap at the door indicated the arrival of company, and while the turnkey was performing her duty, the lady, oppressed by shame, sought concealment, where she heard the comer ask, "Is Mr. here?" The strongest feelings of her soul were roused by the name. She stepped from behind the door, and asked, “Is it Mr. of- for whom you inquire?" "It is," replied the man. She now stood in the presence of an officer under the general go

vernment. The soul stirring tone of her question agitated the war. rior. "Do you know him?" said he. "Yes, I know him well. It is not five weeks since I saw him at home." She told him who she was, how she came to the city and to that house, and begged him to take her from it. He made several inquiries about recent occurrences in her native town, and finding that she had intimate knowledge of them, he asked her if she knew Mr. She said she

did. Taking his hat, he bid her adieu, adding, “I will see you in half an hour." He called on that gentleman, and related her story to him. The gentleman knew the lady, and her family, and her seducer. This gentleman accompanied the officer to the house in which she was imprisoned. But, after the officer left the house, and before his return, she became melancholy and retired to her chamber. There her mind was alternately agitated by pleasant and pain. ful thoughts-and time heavily rolled on the decisive hour of deliverance or death. The coffin, the grave, the judgment, hell, heaven, eternity, and God, were distinct in her vision. Hope fled. She saw the laudanum. Horror froze her blood. A blow on her door an nounced the presence of the girl, who requested her to come down into the parlor. She refused. The old hag cried out, "Don't be afraid. It is the gentleman with whom you conversed after tea." There was something inexplicable in this language and conduct, to the gentleman from the lady's native town. "Pray, madam," said the gentleman, turning to the procuress, "does the lady refuse to see company?" "O yes," said the mistress, she has received no company since she came to the house, and this," turning to the officer, "is the only gentleman to whom she has condescended to speak since she came here. Ah, she spoke to the merchant, her acquaintance, who was here the other evening."

The lady made her appearance at the head of the stairs. The gentleman saw her, knew 'her, and involuntarily raising his hands, exclaimed, "My God, is that you, Miss ?How and when

did you come here?" It is no wonder this gentleman's surprise was great. It was but four weeks since he, at home, attended a party 'at which she was present, and when he left home she had not started for New York. That evening he provided for her lodgings in a hotel, and on the following morning called with the officer and received her trunk from the procuress, which, in their absence, had been opened, and rifled of jewels and clothing, to a considerable amount a practice of common daily occurrence in these houses. Once the lady offered all her jewels and apparel to her keeper, for liberty to go into the street. Then, they were refused-now, they were stolen.

On sabbath evening the lady's repose was sweet. On Monday morning she had her liberty, in a land of liberty, tolerating an internal republic of vicious persons, who imprison at pleasure the daughters of our virtuous, peaceable citizens, and then sell their virtue to the vicious for money. Will freemen tolerate the existence of such practices? On Monday morning she saw the vial of destruction, and cold chills quivered along her blood and nerves. Being soon composed, she returned to Ged a devout acknowledgment of his good