man, he formed the habit of visiting them abominable cellars, where the lowest drunkards have their revels; and this horrible, horrible tragedy is the upshot of the business! Lord! I'm glad my anvil an't a rumcask, Mr. Chester!"

"Well may you be glad, my friend," said I; "cursed is the gain that comes through such a traffic. Is this the place?"

"This is the place. What but a murder would bring people out, such a night? See, the house is thronged! Hark! don't you hear them groans from him, and the cries and sobs of the others- poor wife! - - poor innocent child! Lord! I can't go in I can't stand the sight, Mr. Chester. I'm a woman, when such things are going on!"

The blacksmith said all this in a rapid undertone, as we approached the door of the wretched house,— brushing his great sleeves across his eyes, frequently, as he spoke; and revealing, in the tremulousness of his voice, the power of his emotion, and the gentleness that possessed his gigantic frame.

I do not propose to dwell upon the awful scene that awaited me, in that hapless home, so long dishonored by evil passions--so suddenly invested with a tragic interest. The chief figures in the picture stand vividly before me still, but I never contemplate them without a sensation of painful sadness.

I see the wreck of a man lying upon a miserable bed, pale and ghastly, writhing in the consciousness of an ill-spent life and of an inexorable death, and al