A second summer went by with its long, hot days, when the sun seemed to stand still in the sky, and to dart down its most sultry beams into the dustiest and closest streets. Out in the parks, and in the broad thoroughfares where the fresh breeze could sweep along early in the morning, and in the evening as soon as the air grew cooler, it was very pleasant weather; and the people who could put on light summer dresses enjoyed it very much. But away among the thickly-built and crowded houses, where there were thousands of persons breathing over and over again the same hot and stagnant atmosphere, it seemed as if the most delicate and weakly among them must be suffocated by the breathless heat. Old Oliver suffered very greatly, but he said nothing about it; indeed he generally forgot the cause of his languor and feebleness. He never knew now the day of the week, nor the month of the year. If any one had told him in the dog-days of July that it was still April, he would only have answered gently that it was bright, warm weather for the time of year.
But about old times his memory was good enough; he could tell long stories of his boyhood, and describe the hills of his native place in such a manner as to set Tony full of longings after the country, with its corn-fields, and meadows, and hedge-rows, which he had never seen. He remembered his Bible, too, and could repeat chapter after chapter describing his Master's life, as they sat together in the perpetual twilight of their room; for now that it was summer-time it did not seem right to keep the gas burning.
Tony's crossing had failed him altogether, for in dry weather nobody wanted it; but in this extremity Mr. Ross came to his aid, and procured him a place as errand-boy, where he was wanted from eight o'clock in the morning till seven at night; so that he could still open old Oliver's shop, and fetch him his right papers before he went out, and put the shutters up when he came back. To become an errand-boy was a good step forwards, and Tony was more than content. He never ran about bare-headed and bare-footed now as he had done twelve months before; and he had made such good progress in reading and writing that he could already make out the directions upon the parcels he had to deliver, after they had been once read over to him. He did not object to the dry weather and clean streets as he had done when his living depended upon his crossing; on the contrary, he enjoyed the sunshine, and the crowds of gaily-dressed people, for he could hold up his head amongst them, and no longer went prowling about in the gutters searching after bits of orange-peel. He kicked them into the gutters instead, mindful of that accident which had befallen him, but which turned out so full of good for him.
 
DOLLY'S MONTHLY REGISTER.
But, if there had been any eye to see it, a very slow, and very sad change was creeping over Dolly; so slowly indeed, that perhaps none but her mother's eye could have seen it at first. On the first of every month, which old Oliver knew by the magazines coming in, he marked how much his little love had grown by placing her against the side-post of the door, and making a thick pencil line where her curly head reached to. He looked at this record often, smiling at the rate his little woman was growing taller; but it was really no wonder that his dim eyes, loving as they were, never saw how the rosy colour was dying away out of her cheeks, as gradually as t............