roduced by a lack of those little luxuries so
essential to the debilities and infirmities of advanced age, after
partaking sparingly of what was set before him, felt himself much
bettered and refreshed thereby; and Fanny, who had dried her tears, and
satisfied the cravings of hunger, smiled her gratitude upon the kind
provider. Little Charley had already become much attached to "good
Corporal Grimsby," who had given him such a nice supper--while the
latter gentleman, having finished his meal, drew forth an antiquated
pipe, having a Turk's head for the bowl and a coiled serpent for the
stem, which having lighted, he proceeded to smoke with much gravity and
thoughtfulness. Not a word did he utter, but smoked away in silence,
until the clock struck ten; then pocketing his pipe, and depositing the
now empty flask and dishes in the basket, he announced his intention of
departing. The grandfather was cut short in a grateful acknowledgment of
the stranger's kindness, by the abrupt exit of that singular personage,
who bolted down stairs with a precipitancy that was truly alarming,
scarce waiting for Fanny to light him down.

This singular visit was of course the subject of much surprise and
conjecture in the little family of the blind basket-maker; but when
Fanny related how the stranger had accosted her in the street, and
inquired her residence, they concluded that he was some eccentric but
benevolent person, who had taken that method of contributing to the
relief of their wants.

And who was this queer little old man, so shabby and threadbare--so
"full of strange oaths,"--so odd in his manner, so kind in his
heart--calling himself Corporal Grimsby--who had come forward at that
opportune moment to supply a starving family with food? Time will show.

CHAPTER II

_Innocence in the Grip of Lust._

The day which succeeded the stormy night described in the last chapter,
was an unusually fine one. The sun shone clear and bright, and many
people were abroad to enjoy the fine bracing air, and indemnify
themselves for having been kept within doors on the preceding day. The
streets were covered with an ample garment of snow, and the merry music
of the sleigh-bells was heard in every direction.

At an early hour, Fanny Aubrey (for that was the name of our little
heroine,) issued from her dwelling, and taking the sunny side of the
streets, resumed her accustomed perambulations, with her basket on her
arm. Fanny was small fo