heart, and
weak from a wound which he had received in the wreck. He had battled many a
year against misfortune, and his utmost exertions had barely found bread
for his children. He owed money to a heartless and exacting man. He stood
before his creditor and said, 'I am beggared, but I will work for you.'
The merchant replied, 'Come to my house to-night, and I will find means by
which this debt can be liquidated.' The sailor expected reproaches and hard
words; so he was surprised at the softness of this speech, and his heart
was full of gratitude.

"That night he sat in the parlor of the merchant, who plied him with rare
wines, until his mind went from him. Then he made a proposal to the sailor,
who, if he had had his senses, would have felled him to the floor. The
merchant had been appointed guardian to a motherless babe, which his
brother, dying, begged him to love and educate. His ship on the sea, and
the bales of merchandize in his warehouses, were not enough to feed his
hungry avarice. He needs must have the little inheritance of the babe.
Well, while he was speaking, making artful pictures in the eyes of his
drugged dupe, the child ran into the room, and twined her arms around the
neck of him who should have worshiped her. But he coldly unclasped the
little hands and pushed her from him. John Flint, when that man, on
Judgment Day, shall cringe before the throne of God, the Evil Angel will
trample him down!"

Flint was as white as the marble mantel-piece on which he leaned. Edward
Walters stood a short distance in front of him; his eyes were fixed, and he
spoke like one who sees what he is describing.

"Then the man--the merchant--wrapped the child in the sailor's cloak. In a
few minutes the sailor stood in the stormy street, with a frightened little
heart throbbing against his own. The cutting sleet and snow beat in his
face, and the wine made a veil before his eyes. It was a fearful night. Not
a human form was to be seen; the street lamps were blown out, and the poor
mariner drifted to and fro like a deserted ship. He had become mad; the
strange events had eaten into his brain. He wrapped the babe closer in his
cloak, and placed her in a doorway, out of the cold. He wandered from
street to street, then he sank down in the snow. When his senses came to
him he had been in a madhouse--God, how many years! Was it ten? The June
wind broke through the barred window; it touched his forehead, and it was
like a human han