his about?" he asked, sternly.

"Jake's drunk again, that's the row," answered a voice.

"Lock him up, lock him up!" cried two or three from the crowd.

An expression of savage defiance came into the face of the blind man,
and he moved his arms and clenched his fist like one who was bent on
desperate resistance. He was large and muscular, and, now that he was
excited by drink and bad passions, had a look that was dangerous.

"Go home and behave yourself," said the policeman, not caring to have a
single-handed tussle with the human savage, whose strength and desperate
character he well knew.

Blind Jake, as he was called, stood for a few moments half defiant,
growling and distorting his face until it looked more like a wild
animal's than a man's, then jerked out the words,

"Where's that Pete?" with a sound like the crack of a whip.

The boy he had been beating in his drunken fury, and who did not seem to
be much hurt, came forward from the crowd, and taking him by the hand,
led him away.

"Who is this blind man? I have seen him before," said Mr. Dinneford.

"You may see him any day standing at the street corners, begging, a
miserable-looking object, exciting the pity of the humane, and gathering
in money to spend in drunken debauchery at night. He has been known to
bring in some days as high as ten and some fifteen dollars, all of which
is wasted in riot before the next morning. He lives just over the way,
and night after night I can hear his howls and curses and laughter
mingled with those of the vile women with whom he herds."

"Surely this cannot be?" said Mr. Dinneford.

"Surely it is," was replied. "I know of what I speak. There is hardly a
viler wretch in all our city than this man, who draws hundreds--I
might say, without exaggeration, thousands--of dollars from weak and
tender-hearted people every year to be spent as I have said; and he
is not the only one. Out of this district go hundreds of thieves and
beggars every day, spreading themselves over the city and gathering in
their harvests from our people. I see them at the street corners, coming
out of yards and alley-gates, skulking near unguarded premises and
studying shop-windows. They are all impostors or thieves. Not one of
them is deserving of charity. He who gives to them wastes his money and
encourages thieving and vagrancy. One half of the successful burglaries
committed on dwelling-houses are in consequence of information gained by
beggars.