she whispered, "you do not know how we feel for you! It is a heartless system that makes man at war with society. But oh! we will befriend you and pro

tect you. dren!"

We will send money to your wife and chil

"To-morrow I'll be sentenced," he groaned; "my children will be branded with shame. God! GOD!" "No! no!" she cried quickly, "I know the Mayor, Mr. Villars, well. I am sure if I intercede for you he will ask Mr. Snyder to drop the case, and he will."

The old man's entire manner changed as he said: "Is this the Miss Whitford that you spoke of, John?"

"That's Pearl!" He placed his hand upon her shoulder lightly as though to bless her.

"Pearl," and his voice trembled, "take a tramp's blessing with you, girl,—a father's blessing for these kind words. I am quite an old man, and have heard a good many rough words in my life, and I know the value of kind ones. I have worked hard and am a good deal of a wreck; but I love my children, and I give you a father's blessing, my child; but you don't know, you can't know. I would rather"-his voice changed suddenly and he almost hissed the words"rather die in a prison's cell than accept Mayor Villars' aid."

"Oh, you do not mean that, surely," she pleaded. "Think of your children."

"I could not brand them with more shame than that would be. Go tell him that a tramp from Brockfield -a trimmer in a shoe factory-is low enough to beg, but not low enough to ask his aid. Tell him that there are two starving children left behind who would

rather die than beg his bread. Tell him that mightier than his 'Almighty Dollar' is Almighty God!"

For several minutes nothing was spoken. All hoped and dreaded that he would say more, but he was silent.

Oliver remembered what Mr. Madmire had said of the mysterious words about Mayor Villars; and, though he was strangely affected, almost shocked, indeed, by the old man's words, he thought Mr. Madmire's conclusion the most absurd that could possibly be drawn from them; and he was convinced that whatever reckless act this man might do he would do in honest desperation, not in malice.

"You will let others help you," Pearl said at last. "I am acquainted with others, and I will talk with Mr. Snyder myself."

There was a quieting influence in the touch of Pearl's hand; for the old man sat down and drew Pearl's chair nearer to his own. There were other plans and possibilities which Pearl had to suggest. Indeed, she almost made it seem that there were any number of alternatives—all of them hopeful, delicately mixing with each some thought about his wife and children and how much her friends would do for them. The stranger had little to say now, but he often glanced tenderly toward Pearl, and a holy, softening influence seemed to be above him and about him.

"I shall be here early to-morrow morning," Pearl said to him alone when she had risen to go; "and I am sure that you will let us do all we can for you."

He only led her to the window, and they looked out in silence on the great boot which, shadowed from the lights, stood motionless like some street beggar,

unnoticed by the travelers hurrying to and fro. "May I walk part of the way with you?" he asked. "With both of you," he added, turning to Oliver, who pressed his hand warmly, but said nothing.

Down the rickety stairs in silence, the wanderer, Oliver and Pearl! Beneath the great boot in front of the cobbler's shop, past markets, stores and concert halls, down by the second-hand stores on River Ridge, out on the great bridge spanning the River Rapid, but not a word was spoken by the wanderer, Oliver or Pearl!

Nearing the middle of the bridge, the old man bent above the railing a moment to watch the reflection of the moon in the waters underneath; then, standing perfectly erect, as he removed his hat and brushed back the long gray hair, he seemed to resemble rather one of the world's leaders than a tramp who had begged for bread.

"Pearl," the wanderer said, the first to break the silence, “I want to give you this-a picture of my wife, my children and myself."

"But you," she cried, placing her hand upon his arm with such tender sympathy that the tears came to his eyes.

"If in

"I prefer you to have it," he answered. the morning you do not wish to keep it,—well, we will see. But I wish you always to keep it, and every time you look at it to remember this night. It has been in jail, Pearl, it has been carried over many miles, it was a happy family till the factory closed. Whenever you look at it, remember to pity the poor and the erring. If you ever stand by the cradle of the child you love, look at this picture and remember

that it carries with it the blessing of the old man with the long gray hair." He looked out upon the rushing river, his whole body trembled violently, and his voice was almost beyond his control. "My little Mollie,it was this one, Pearl," and he pointed out a brighteyed girl in the picture,-"recited a poem at school two months ago the day before the factory closed-about a man who watched the moon from the bridge and 'wished that the ebbing tide would-bear-himaway.' Do you know it, Pearl?"

"Oh, yes, yes," she said so tenderly, "and remember, oh, remember, that 'as long as the river flows, as long as the heart hath passions, as long as life has woes, the moon and its broken reflections and its shadows shall appear, as the symbol of love in heaven and its wavering image here.""

With trembling voice the old man whispered: "May I kiss your forehead, Pearl?"

In a moment she had taken his hands in hers and pressed them to her lips. His lips rested upon her forehead.

"Precious Pearl!" And they had turned away.

In the distance the Capitol lifted its great dome skyward, the planets kept their wandering way, while high above the current of the Rapid the old man pondered with uncovered head.

CHAPTER III.

"Take physic, Pomp;

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel."

-KING LEar.

Mr. Villars had breakfasted, and the safety of Capitol City was guaranteed for another day. If the body politic was to be judged by its executive head, it was this morning in a flourishing condition of material prosperity.

It might be objected by the fault-finding that Mr. Villars was too small a man to represent so great a city; but if ever a man walked with a giant stride, that man was Mr. Villars; and as he paced in his parlors before the long paneled mirrors, reflecting a half dozen Villarses of small stature and curly hair, he was certainly a fair representative of the grandeur and beauty of Capitol City.

Mr. Villars not only represented the political interests of the city, but its industrial interests-diligently owning half its vacant lots, several business blocks, as well as two or three large factories. It must also be understood that Mr. Villars was a fair representative of the dignity and morality of the city. No matter what Mrs. Grundy and her husband may say about some heartless "eviction," I insist that he was respectable. I know that they sometimes called him "Beelzebub" for a nickname, or rather for an Old Nick name, but still he was thoroughly respectable.