ragged man, the picture of despair.
A few of his countrymen, who had gathered round him, offered him some
food. He might have taken it eagerly some days before. _Now_ he gazed
on vacancy, without noticing their efforts to induce him to take some
nourishment. Still they persevered, and one held a cooling glass of
lemonade to his parched lips.

Seated on the after hatchway was a little boy who had that morning
lost both his parents. He shed no tear. Familiarity with misery had
deprived him of that sad consolation.

We passed on to a group of Irishmen gathered round an old gray-haired
man lying at length upon the forward deck. One of them was kneeling
beside him.

"Father, father!" said he, earnestly, "rouse up, for the love of
Heaven. See here--I've brought ye some porridge--tak a sup ov it--it
will give ye heart and life."

"Sorrow a bit of life's left in the old man any how. Lave him alone,
Jamie."

"Lift him ashore," said the mate--"he wants air."

The dying man was carefully lifted on the wharf, and laid down upon a
plank. His features changed rapidly during the transit. His head now
fell back--the pallid hue of death invaded his lips--his lower jaw
relaxed--the staring eyeballs had no speculation in them--a slight
shudder convulsed his frame. The son kneeled beside him; closed his
eyes--it was all over. And there, in the open air, with no covering to
shield his reverend locks from the falling rain, passed away the soul
of the old man from its earthly tabernacle.

The hospital cart arrived. Busy agents lifted into it, with
professional _sang froid_, crippled age and tottering childhood. But
all the spectators of this harrowing scene testified, by their
expressions, sympathy and sorrow, one low-browed ruffian alone
excepted.

"Serves 'em right ----d ----n 'em!" said he, savagely. "Why don't they
stay at home in their own country, and not come here to take the bread
out of honest people's mouths?"

Honest, quotha? If ever "flat burglary" and "treason dire" were
written on a man's face, it stood out in staring capitals upon that
Cain-like brow.

But there were lights as well as shadows to the picture. Out of that
grim den of death, out of that floating lazar house, there came a few
blooming maidens and stalwart youths, like fair flowers springing from
the rankness of a charnel. Their sorrows were but for the misfortunes
of others; and even these were a while forgotten in the joy of meeting
near and dear r