holly unlike those presented in
that book, but none the less vivid or intense. It is given as an
argument against what is called the temperate use of liquor, and as an
exhibition of the fearful disasters that flow from our social drinking
customs. In making this argument and exhibition the author has given
his best effort to the work.

WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.

CHAPTER I.

SNOW had been falling for more than three hours, the large flakes
dropping silently through the still air until the earth was covered
with an even carpet many inches in depth.

It was past midnight. The air, which had been so still, was growing
restless and beginning to whirl the snow into eddies and drive it about
in an angry kind of way, whistling around sharp corners and rattling
every loose sign and shutter upon which it could lay its invisible
hands.

In front of an elegant residence stood half a dozen carriages. The
glare of light from hall and windows and the sound of music and dancing
told of a festival within. The door opened, and a group of young girls,
wrapped in shawls and waterproofs, came out and ran, merrily laughing,
across the snow-covered pavement, and crowding into one of the
carriages, were driven off at a rapid speed. Following them came a
young man on whose lip and cheeks the downy beard had scarcely thrown a
shadow. The strong light of the vestibule lamp fell upon a handsome
face, but it wore an unnatural flush.

There was an unsteadiness about his movements as he descended the
marble steps, and he grasped the iron railing like one in danger of
falling. A waiter who had followed him to the door stood looking at him
with a half-pitying, half-amused expression on his face as he went off,
staggering through the blinding drift.

The storm was one of the fiercest of the season, and the air since
midnight had become intensely cold. The snow fell no longer in soft and
filmy flakes, but in small hard pellets that cut like sand and sifted
in through every crack and crevice against which the wild winds drove
it.

The young man--boy, we might better say, for, he was only
nineteen--moved off in the very teeth of this storm, the small granules
of ice smiting him in the face and taking his breath. The wind set
itself against him with wide obstructing arms, and he reeled, staggered
and plunged forward or from side to side, in a sort of blind
desperation.

"Ugh!" he ejaculated, catching his breath and standin