of the distinction." The fallen man drops his
head into his hands, stabbed with remorse, while the vote-cribber folds
his brawny arms leisurely, paces to and fro before him, and scans him
with his keen, gray eyes, after the manner of one mutely contemplating
an imprisoned animal.

"You need not give yourself so much concern about me--"

"I was only thinking over in my head what a good subject to crib, a week
or two before fall election, you'd be. You've a vote?"

Tom good-naturedly says he has. He always throws it for the "old
Charleston" party, being sure of a release, as are some dozen caged
birds, just before election.

"I have declared eternal hatred against that party; never pays its
cribbers!" Mingle scornfully retorts; and having lighted his pipe,
continues his pacing. "As for this jail," he mutters to himself, "I've
no great respect for it; but there is a wide difference between a man
who they put in here for sinning against himself, and one who only
violates a law of the State, passed in opposition to popular opinion.
However, you seem brightened up a few pegs, and, only let whiskey alone,
you may be something yet. Keep up an acquaintance with the pump, and be
civil to respectable prisoners, that's all."

This admonition of the vote-cribber had a deeper effect on the feelings
of the inebriate than was indicated by his outward manner. He had
committed no crime, and yet he found himself among criminals of every
kind; and what was worse, they affected to look down upon him. Had he
reached a state of degradation so low that even the felon loathed his
presence? Was he an outcast, stripped of every means of reform--of
making himself a man? Oh no! The knife of the destroyer had plunged
deep--disappointment had tortured his brain--he was drawn deeper into
the pool of misery by the fatal fascinations of the house of Madame
Flamingo, where, shunned by society, he had sought relief--but there was
yet one spark of pride lingering in his heart. That spark the
vote-cribber had touched; and with that spark Tom resolved to kindle for
himself a new existence. He had pledged his honor to the young
theologian; he would not violate it.

The old sailor, with elated feelings, and bearing in his hands a bowl of
coffee and two slices of toasted bread, is accosted by several
suspicious-looking prisoners, who have assembled in the corridor for the
purpose of scenting fresh air, with sundry questions concerning the
state of his p