FRANK ELLIOTT.

CHAPTER I.

"ARE you not cold, my son?" said a grave, sober, but benevolent-looking man, as he saw a lad, without shoes on his feet or hat on his head, and dressed in light summer clothing, looking intently into a shop window in one of the fine streets of the city of New Orleans. "Are you not cold, this frosty morning?" he repeated, before he attracted the attention of the little stranger.

"Not very," said he, shivering from head to foot. And again he gazed, with sparkling eyes, brimful of joy, at the pictures displayed in the window.

"You seem to be a brave boy," said Samuel

Lovegood, who then stood by his side, and was as well pleased to look upon the lad as he was to look upon the pictures. "What do you see in the window that pleases you so much?"

Pointing to a picture representing some scene in the Revolutionary War, he said, "I'm looking at that. I wonder," said he, "who got the victory." "Oh," said Mr. Lovegood, "the Americans."

"I'm glad of that," said the little fellow. “I guess if General Jackson had been there, he would have done the work up well, as he did in this city, as one who was in the battle used to tell me."

Frank Elliott, for that was the name of the boy, drew still closer to the window, and thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets, and spreading his feet out, stood firmly, looking on with increased delight.

"But, my son, you must be cold; are you not?"

"Oh no!" he repeated, "not very; but I think the old general had a cold time of it, for I see by the picture there was snow on the ground."

Now what attracted the attention of this gentle

man to the lad, was the apparent indifference to cold. he manifested; for the morning was bleak and blustering; and the intense delight the little urchin felt in looking at the pictures in the window so absorbed his thoughts, that although shivering from head to foot, he was unconscious of the cold. His very words seemed to freeze upon his lips, as he again and again protested that he was not very cold," his teeth chattering as he uttered the words. The little patched jacket, which Frank had outgrown, and his pantaloons, which had not taken root downward, as this rustic plant was shooting upward, and the whole appearance of the lad, indicated his poverty. His hair, naturally curly, and of auburn hue, hung carelessly over his radiant and ingenuous brow, and his eye, black as a coal, beamed with good-humor and confiding affection. It was like an apparition that had startled Mr. Lovegood from his reveries, as he was passing along the street to his accustomed place of business; and although prompt to attend at his accustomed hour in his counting-room, he could not choose but in

dulge his kind feelings toward the little stranger. "Come with me," said he to the boy; and he took him by the hand to an adjoining street. "How old are you, my son ?"

"Seven years,” he replied.

"Where do you live?"

"Oh," said he, "I don't live anywhere; I only stay with Aunt Phoebe."

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't know where they are; I am told they both died when I was a baby, and I don't know any more about them.”

"Does your aunt take care of you?"

"Yes," said he, "I expect so, if anybody does." "Well, well, come with me into this store;" and taking him up to the counter, he ordered the salesman to give him a full, warm suit of clothes, shoes, and cap, and then asking the street and house in which his Aunt Phoebe lived, he said: "Now, go home;" and casting an eye upon the direction he took, Lovegood, in a few moments, was standing by the warm stove in his counting-room, rubbing his

hands, for they were quite cold; and with a smile of content beaming upon his countenance he com menced the business of the day.

Samuel Lovegood was himself an orphan, his parents having both died when he was quite young. Having received a good education from his uncle, he entered into a large mercantile establishment in the West, rapidly gained a knowledge of the business, and secured the confidence of his employers. Though now only about thirty years old, he had seen many changes, had passed through many trials, and had learned by suffering to feel for the wants of others. At the age of twenty he made his way to New Orleans; and although a perfect stranger, he had such-self-reliance, that he felt that in due season he should obtain employment, and succeed in gaining an honorable position in the world.

He soon secured a place in a large commission house, and attracted the attention of his employers by his diligence and application; and in the course of a year he became the chief clerk in the establishment, and the confidential agent of the firm. One