A friend, returned from a visit to New York, presented
to Mrs. Partington a gold pen which had been
entrusted to him for her. The present was duly examined
and admired, and turned round, and pulled out,
and held up to the light, and a receipt for pew-rent was
brought out from the black bureau, on the back of which
to test its quality, and she made a straight mark to the
right, and then crossed it with another straight mark of
equal length, and then said it was charming.

“But who are they?” said she, speculatively. “I
don't know them, I'm shore.”

The friend blandly explained that they knew her
very well, and that this present was a tribute of regard
for her many virtues, which, like the odor of ten thousand
flowers, is borne across the entire land. The giver was
eloquent — touching.

“Ah,” said she, “it is very kind to remember a poor
widowless body like me! What friends I have got!

p677-074 [figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

I hope that Heaven will be rewarded for their kindness
to me!”

It was a fervent aspiration, and though the letter of her
prayer might seem to divert the reward from its true
object, still its spirit conferred it rightly. She opened
the old black bureau-desk in the corner, and placed
the gold pen carefully by the side of the paste shoebuckles,
and hoop earrings, — valuable relics of bygone
times, — and then securely locked the desk, as she saw
Ike looking curiously into the window, with his nose
flattened close against the glass.