Year: 1869

they began to tell her the fate before
her, Ruth hardly knew.


A little flush of shame came first
when his step was unsteady and his
voice too loud. Then a grieved tear
or two when he was unreasonable
Then a sorrow that kept her heart
aching night and day; for the man
who had first won inspiration from
the glass now lost it in its depths !;
lectures to be delivered were not Civ
en- to the expectant public because
"of the illness of the lecturer"


Ruth knew what that illness meant,
and tried to hide it. Literary work
was neglected also. Money was lost
that might have easily been won.-
Debts grew and credit lessened; the
handsome suit ofrooms were exchang-
ed for one quite shabby. Ruth's dress
became poverty-stricken. her husband
was ont at the elbows and at toes
- he was intoxicated from morning
until night, and yet she loved him and
clung to him, and in his sober mo-
ments he loved her as fondly as ever.
Sometimes the old strength and the
old hope would be aroused in him and
he would struggle to regain his lost
position, but it was all in vain; rum
triumphed, and five years from her
wedding day Ruth found herself with
her one remaining child, the first had
died within year Of its birth, in the
dingiest Of wretched tenement houses
in state bordering on beggary.


Edward had been more madly in
toxicated that day than ever before ;
he had even given her blow and
now, as the night wore on, he mutter-
ed and raved and called for brandy,
and cursed her and himself, until she
trembled with fear. At last as the
clock struck ten. he started to his feet
and staggered out Of the room, VOW
ing to get drunk somewhere.


Poor Ruth stood where he had left
her, tor a few moments. The memo
ry of the past was strong on her that
night. Just at this hour five years
before they mad fed from her father S
home together. How tender he was,
how loving, how gentle How he VOW
ed that she should never regret that
night. and how had he kept these
promises ? He had broken every VOW
he neither cherished nor protected
her. His worldly goods he had given
to the ravenOuS demon, drink; his
love had become a something scarce
ly worth having; and yet she loved
him and clung to him. She tried tC
feel cold and hard to him, but she
could not; she strOve to remember
the blow no had given hel, the oothc
he had uttered, but she answered her
self as she did so, at was not he who
did tit was rum" She listened tC
the uncertain, reeling footStep III the
street below and burst into tears.


"My poor darling" she whispered
as she thought some grievouS calami


ty had smitten him into the thing be


was, and he had not himself put al
enemy into his mouth to steal away
his brain" unmindful Of her pleading
unmindful of her woe and her shame


She thought of him reeling helplessly
along the street, and feared that some


harm would come to him. He might
fall into some out-ot-the-way place anC


lie there undiscovered, and so freeze


to death that bitter night; and in hel


agony of terror, poor Ruth could no


restrain herself from following him.


Her poor, weakly baby slept; she
wrapped it in a blanket and laid it il


its poor cradle. Then she threw hel


warm shawl over her head and hast
ened down the street, busy this late


Saturday night with market-goine
people of the poorer classes.


A little way before her reeled th'


handsome, broad shouldered figure OF


her husband, and she a lady bred anC
, born, fastidious, elegant, accomplish
ed, reared in luxury, heard poor la
borer's wives warn their children tt
beware of the drunken fellow"


She heard coarse laughs at his ex
pense, and under the shadow of he
shawl her cheeks burnt hotly; bnt fo
, all that she never thought of goin!
back and leaving him to himself. A
: soon as she could she gained his sid
and called to him by name


Edward! !! Edwardw


? He turned and stood unsteadil
: looking at her, in a bewildered way
2 "You? ?" he said. "You ought t.
4 be at home this time of night"


5 $50 we ought both, said Ruth
"Come dear"


He threw her hand off.


I'm my own master" he said "Tr
= not tied to any woman's apron string
] and staggered away again, Ruth fo
e lowing, through the long streets, wit
e every face turned toward them a
| they passed-some laughing, som
), contemptuou6, some terrified; out a
: last upon the wharves, and there tn


besotted man sat down more stupt
S fed by the liquor he had swallowed
e in that fresh, cold air. Ruth was thir
ly clad-the chill of the sea bias


seemed to reach her very heart. Sh
e thought of the babe at home, and tear
o coursed down her cheeks. Again an
l. again she plead with the mad man q
d her side. Again and again she trie
J. to bring to his mind some lingerin
; memory of the past days when hi
a love and protection had been hers
v In vain wild fancies filled his brain
s. demons, born of the fumes of run
+ held possession of his senses. Som,
e times he thrust her from him, som,
d times he gave her a maudlin embrac
+; and bade her bring him more liquo
o but go home he would not. The di
e tant hum of the city died out at last
y all was still with the strange stillnes
o of a city night. The frosty stal


twinkled over head. Now and then
e night boat passed up the river. wit