When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Wood, leaping from the bed. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. ” “You haven’t answered my question. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. What is there?” “Tristan.
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