WITH A WINE-GLASS. | 111

its coffin, and the withered baby that hangs.
to the breast of a drunken mother.”

She went her way.

‘¢The Lord save us!” ejaculated the milk
woman, looking after.

“T b’leve there’s,@-dale of truth in it;
only, if there is, what fools we all are !—
giving our time and health and strength,
our body and bones, to make palaces of gin
shops ; starve in the dirt, and die in the
cutters ourselves.” 4

The woman pursued her walk with a
thoughtful countenance, and Mary saw, with
an aching heart, when she reached Woburn
Place, that every shutter was closed over
the windows which yesterday admitted air
and sunshine and the sounds of life.

She knew the lamp of that life was ex-
tinguished, and she sat down weeping and
shuddering on the door step; at last the
kind voice, and the kind pressure of Peggy’s

| hand roused her.