the distant street, were all the sounds that greeted the ear.

Hez sat upon his stool and mused, unmindful of the cold that crept beneath his ragged shirt, and pinched him until it left blue marks upon his flesh; unmindful of all but the half-muttered words and sighs of his sleeping wife, when he would lightly cross the room to re-adjust the wretched coverlet, and listen to her breathings, as though afraid that she might leave him in her sleep. Hez sat and mused: the bygone came back, and the thinker saw himself as child, boy, and man.

Then he recalled stormy interviews with his father; insubordination and defiance; the smarting of a blow upon his flushing cheek; and then, married life, and still happiness for a time; years of sunshine, and his barque floating gently along the stream, which now bore him for a time upon his way. Then the recollection of others’ pains; the affliction, ruin, and distress he had witnessed, where adversity had been bravely battled with for long, long years.

A black cloud shrouding the man’s soul: why should he suffer thus? what had he done? where was his sin? should wife and little ones bear the offence of the father?—suffer for his disobedience? Thousands around were in opulence; and he, willing to fight for his daily bread, eager to seize the work that should give him the labourer’s independence, pushed to the wall by the hundreds striving to grasp the coveted food-procurer. Why should he not take what stern fate denied? must he sit and watch his little ones’ agony, or apply as a pauper for parish relief? What was honesty to him now? he must have gold—gold—not to satisfy greed or the avarice of possession, but because it was the life of all most dear to him. Glittering stores of life-blood—wife’s, children’s life-blood—breath—lay in the windows close, at hand; could he not clutch the spoil, and let them live and be happy once more? “Thou shalt not steal!” What whispered of theft? It was no theft, but duty; the right of a strong man to grasp the possessions of the weaker, as kings made conquests. Gold, jewellery, wealth for the taking, and then in some country home to forget once more this hideous act in life’s drama. “Thou shalt not steal!” Hush, conscience, hush! Man must live! But not by bread alone. Not one sparrow should fall to the ground without He willed it so! But life—life for the sleeping ones; life for his long, long-suffering wife—for his prattling children! Must he keep laws and see the famine-pinched cheeks, the blue lips, and listen to wailing cries for bread? Had he not waited and hoped—hoped still against the crushing desolation that pressed upon his 

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