The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans.

that way; but he remembered that he had nothing wherewith to buy a ticket, and hesitated.

'Don't,' said Guly, earnestly, 'don't be led into such folly, Arthur. Come, let's go back to the store.'

'Not till you have tried your luck once,' said Clinton, persuasively; 'come, it is but a trifle if you lose it, and think of the chance you run.'

'I've left my purse at home,' said Arthur, blushing at the falsehood he stooped to utter; 'I would really like to join, but can't to-night, really.'

'Pooh! if the money is all, I'll advance that; and you can pay me when you like. Come along.'

Arthur entered the shop reluctantly, it is true, yet ashamed to confess to his social, open-hearted companion, the compunction he felt. The ticket was purchased, and half given to Arthur.

'If you are determined to purchase a ticket, Arthur,' said Guly, gravely, 'I must insist that you do not run in debt to Mr. Clinton for it,' and opening his purse, he handed to that gentleman the sum just expended for his brother's half of the ticket.

'You are very particular,' remarked Clinton, with something like a sneer, and pocketing the change, while he glanced with a look of impertinent curiosity at Guly's grave but beautiful features.

'Do you go our way?' inquired Arthur, turning toward him as they left the shop.

'No; sorry to say I don't,' returned Clinton, lighting a cigar, and offering one to each of the brothers, who refused it. 'I am really sorry to part with you; but if you must go, good-night,' and with a graceful move of the hand, the young gentleman bade an adieu to his friends, and turning down another street, was soon out of sight.

The brothers walked on for some distance in silence. Guly was the first to speak.

'Have you enjoyed your walk, Arthur, as much as you would have done, had we been left to enjoy ourselves in our own way?'

'Well, I must say, Guly, that I've had a pleasant time. I think young Clinton a charming fellow, and must confess he has enlivened the last hour exceedingly.'

'And your heart and conscience are both quite as unburthened as they would have been had you not met him?'

'I'm sure I've done nothing to burden either, Gulian,' returned Arthur, somewhat impatiently. 'You must remember I am several years older than you are, and am expected to act differently from a mere boy like yourself.'

'Did you remember that yesterday was your twenty-first birthday?' inquired Guly, quietly.

'No!' said Arthur, with a slight start; 'and your sixteenth birthday was last Monday! How differently have they passed from what they used to do at home, when they were always celebrated together.'

'Mother must have remembered us yesterday,' remarked Guly. 'How she would have loved but to look over here upon us!'

'I would not have had her seen me yesterday!' exclaimed Arthur, warmly, 'for all the wealth this city ever saw. Her heart would have broken.'

'Yet you persist in recognizing your yesterday's companions, and in a measure practising yesterday's pursuits. Mother never allowed wine to make its appearance on our birthday-fetes, my brother.'

'True, but that was in the North, and our parents were always very strict. What would you have me do when I meet such a social companion as Clinton? He has such a pleasant, happy way with him, that one really can't refuse him; and for my part, a glass of wine, more or less, will hurt nobody, I guess, materially.'

'The social glass has been many a man's ruin, dear Arthur; and it is better to resist temptation in the beginning, than to fight the influence of liquor in the end. I wish I could coax you to promise never to taste another drop.'

'What folly,' said Arthur, laughing. 'Why, my little Puritan, as long as it is the custom here, why not indulge a little? I think I can promise you never to be intoxicated. I shall shun that. But when I'm with young men of such habits, it would seem very odd in me to refuse, and I must now and then take a harmless glass.'

'Then, Arthur, why not choose companions of different habits? You certainly will admit such a course is wrong for any young man. See the influence even, which Clinton's society has had upon you this evening. He has really induced you to think such practices here are allowable, and even commendable. This morning, without arguing the case, you voluntarily confessed it to be very wrong. Oh, Arthur, I already begin to wish we were out of this dreadful place.'

'You are a chicken-hearted little body,' returned Arthur, playfully; then speaking more gravely, he continued: 'Well, Guly, it is not, after all, so much my fault. I am of an age to wish to enjoy myself. I have been accustomed to having every comfort and happiness around me; the fond love and refined society of a mother, together with the noble presence and good advice of our father. Look at the change! We have come here poor, but with delicate and luxurious tastes. We have no father, no mother, no home. One rough and dingy apartment to sleep in, is the only spot we can look upon and call ours, and that we share in common with the refuse lumber of the store and a colony of spiders and bedbugs. Beyond our washer-woman, we haven't the acquaintance of a single member of the other sex in this city; and, apart from each other, not one to call a friend. It isn't a very pleasant state of affairs to reflect upon, Guly; and this morning, when I lay alone up stairs on the bed, I couldn't keep from thinking that these wealthy merchants who employ so many clerks have much to answer for.'

'How so, Arthur? You surely couldn't expect a merchant to direct and govern the private pursuits of every young man in his employ?'

'No, surely not. Those clerks who have their homes and relatives here in the city, are well enough off; but when, like us, they come from the North, without even an acquaintance here, wouldn't it be better, not only for the clerks, but for the merchant himself, if he would show a little kindly interest in them and their welfare? Here, for instance, are ourselves: Mr. Delancey was made acquainted by our first letter with all the train of circumstances which forced us to this course. He is well aware that our family is as good as his own, and why then has he not said to us that we would be welcome visitors at his house, and thus given us one place where we might occasionally spend our leisure hours, and call it home? Would it not at once have placed us in our own sphere, and kept us from looking for social friends among strangers, of whose character we know nothing? With the firm standing and position that Mr. Delancey has here in society, to have taken this kindly notice of us could not have lowered or affected him one particle in the social scale, and would have placed us in that position which we have ever been accustomed to occupy. It would have bound us more closely to him; and instead of clerks, coldly and rigidly performing our assigned duties for him, it would have rendered us his grateful and sincere friends, happy to do aught in our power, either in or out of business hours, which would oblige him or advance his interests. At least, I know this would be the case with me, and I think that when I speak for one I do for both.'

'I must admit, Arthur, that you are right. Though I have not quite as impulsive a heart as yourself, and am not nearly as proud-spirited, I cannot always bear meekly the curtness and harshness with which Mr. Delancey treats us. And with clerks, as a general thing, it is certainly more for an employer's interest to win them as closely as possible to himself; for, of course, if he forces them to seek companionship among whomsoever they may meet, and they fall into low and dissipated habits, which renders them unfit for business, then, of a necessity, that interest suffers; and were I the employer in such a case, I am sure I could not hold myself entirely free from blame.'

'Oh, in such a case, the employer thinks no farther than to give a clerk his walking papers, and to show him the door. They never pause to remember that they were probably the primal cause of his downfall; neither will they make amends, by even giving him the good name he brought to them, for another situation. When I reflect upon these things, Guly, sometimes there's a great deal of bitterness comes up in my heart, which I cannot keep down, though I try ever so hard.'

'Never let it rise there, Arthur. While we both live, dear brother, we are certain of one heart that is as true as life itself. Let us cling close to one another, and try and be happy and contented together, and no harm, save sickness and death, can approach us. In loving one another, we are but being true to ourselves.'

They had by this time reached the store door, and as Guly ceased speaking, Arthur stepped upon the step, and placing both hands on his brother's shoulders, held him a little way from him, and looked earnestly into the beautiful eyes raised up to meet his own.

'Guly, whatever happens-though I hope and am sure nothing will that is unfortunate or sad to me or between us-try and love me all the same; forget my faults and remember my virtues-if I have any; I want always to think of your heart as trusting mine, and loving me.'