as played--once more he was penniless. He sat still for several
minutes, his eyes gazing on vacancy, and when he arose he seemed like
a strange man, his face was so changed with the workings of evil
passions.

"There! now you have it all, and I am ruined! Do you hear?" exclaimed
the frenzied man, his lips quivering with emotion as his voice became
elevated with excitement. "And who is the dastardly craven that made
me so? Who was it found me pure, and innocent, and stainless as the
babe unborn, and lured me from happiness to scenes of madness and
debauchery--of crime and wretchedness? Say! who was it did all this?
Who was it first placed the cards in my hands, and trained my youthful
mind to the cheateries of the gaming-table? And who, when I became
older, taught me to revel in human gore, and to delight in carnage and
distress, making me the heartless villain that I am? Who was it did
all this, I say? Was it not you, Wilson Hurst--was it not you that did
it?" and the frantic man struck the table a tremendous blow with his
clenched fist as this last question trembled on his white lips, while
he glared fiercely upon the listener.

His mind had now worked itself up to the highest pitch of excitement;
his countenance wore a deathly pallor; his heavy brows lowered
fearfully above eyes that flashed like fire; his nostrils were widely
distended, and, as the air breathed through it seemed to choke him;
his teeth chattered with rage, while the white foam oozed between,
gathering in a thick froth about the parted lips, and with an
exclamation that almost froze the blood to hear, he flung himself upon
his companion. But his adversary had foreseen the whole, and was fully
prepared to meet this sudden attack. Taking advantage of his cat-like
eagerness, he threw him to the floor, overpowered, and finally,
exhausted with struggling, thrust him out the street door, and shut it
in his face.

Left to himself, he gradually became calm and collected, and then
other and gentler thoughts grew busy. He stood there in the still
moonlight, the cool breezes of morning fanning his feverish brow, from
which distilled great drops of moisture in the anguish of his spirit.

"What a change! what a change!" exclaimed he wildly, smiting his
breast with his hands. He was thinking of childhood, of those hours of
innocence forever gone, and he buried his face in his hands, and
sobbed aloud. The strong man was bowed--yes! he who, undaunted, had
stood