them.

He was turned out of the tavern, and, having purchased four
shillings' worth of brandy, commenced business in the cellar we have
alluded to, replenishing his stock by daily applying to a
neighboring pump; and, for every gill of brandy he drew from the
tap, poured a gill of water in at the bung, and thus kept up a stock
in trade.

In a short time, a collection of drinking loafers met daily at his
place, and Dago Pump could see no difference between his
respectability as proprietor of a bar-room, and his who, being owner
of thousands, fitted up "oyster saloons," which places had suddenly
sprung up in all large cities.

Edward had fallen; he had become what was termed a "common
drunkard." His wife wept tears of anguish; she entreated; she begged
him to reform. She prayed to Heaven for its aid; yet week passed
week, month followed month, on Time's unending course, and she was a
drunkard's wife still. All friends had forsaken her. Friends! shall
we call them such? No; they did not deserve the name. Their
friendship only had an existence when fortune smiled; when a frown
mantled its countenance, or a cloud intervened, they fled. Yet God
was raising up friends for her, and from a class of society from
whom she little expected aid. God was working, in his mysterious
way, a deliverance. He had heard the prayers that for many long
years had gone up to his throne from thousands of wretched families;
and, moved to pity, he was to show them that he was a God of mercy.

Othro Treves-where is he? Not in that elegant store; it long since