more liquor, and then all would be well again. Artless, innocent child! And this was her mission. The tavern kept by Jenks, the laziest man in Milanville,--he was too lazy to work, and therefore went to tavern-keeping,--stood nearly a quarter of a mile from the poor tenement occupied by the Leslies. Towards this point, under a hot, sultry sun, little Lizzie made her way, her mind so filled with its purpose that she was unconscious of heat of fatigue. Not long before a traveller alighted at the tavern. After giving directions to have his horses fed, he entered the bar-room, and went to where Jenks stood, behind the counter. "Have something to drink?" inquired the landlord. "I'll take a glass of water, if you please." Jenks could not hide the indifference at once felt towards the stranger. Very deliberately he set a pitcher and a glass upon the counter, and then turned partly away. The stranger poured out a tumbler of water, and drank it off with an air of satisfaction. "Good water, that of yours, landlord," said he. "Is it?" was returned, somewhat uncourteously. "I call it good water--don't you?" "Never drink water by itself." As Jenks said this, he winked to one of his good customers, who was lounging, in the bar. "In fact, it's so long since I drank any water, that I forgot how it tastes. Don't you, Leslie?" The man, to whom this was addressed, was not so far lost to shame as Jenks. He blushed and looked confused, as he replied,-- "It might be better for some of us if we had not lost our relish for pure water." "A true word spoken, my friend!" said the stranger, turning to the man, whose swollen visage, and patched, threadbare garments, too plainly told the story of his sad life. "'Water, pure water, bright water;' that is my motto. It never swells the face, nor inflames the eyes, nor mars the countenance. Its attendants are health, thrift, and happiness. It takes not away the children's bread, nor the toiling wife's garments. Water!--it is one of God's chiefest blessings! Our friend, the landlord here, says he has forgotten how it tastes; and you have lost all relish for the refreshing draught! Ah, this is a sad confession!--one which the angels might weep to hear!"