At three o'clock, he set out on his final expedition, and had nearly
reached the bridge, the shadows of the night protecting him from
observation, when a figure stood before him. Amazed at being seen by
any one, he turned out of the path, when the figure crouching low
before him, revealed a tattered, miserable man, baring his head in
abjectness.

"What are you doing here?" inquired the retired merchant.

"I have a wife and family, whom I can't help from starving, and I am
afraid to go and see them. Last night I knew they would be turned into
the streets," replied the man.

"Take that," replied the merchant, giving him his purse, with gold and
silver in it--thinking to himself, "how much more useful this will be
to him, than in my pockets in the water."

"God bless you, sir--God bless you, sir," exclaimed the man several
times, kneeling before the astonished merchant.

"Stop," said the merchant, "do not overwhelm me so with your
thanksgivings--but tell me where you live."

"In Lambeth, sir."

"Then why are you _here_ this morning?" said the merchant.

"I do not like to tell you," said the man. "I am ashamed to tell a
gentleman like you."