"Look here!" he said, taking the boy's arm and baring it, "this
boy can hardly be called a human being. See what a thin arm he
has--how flaccid and colorless the flesh seems--what an old
face!--and I can scarcely feel any pulse. Good heavens, get him
some wine! A few hours will send him to the d---- sure enough. .
. . . What are we to do for him, Glibton? I say again, he is
only part of a great problem. There must be hundreds of
thousands growing up like this child; and what a generation to
contemplate in all its relations and effects!"

The gentlemen were dashed by his earnestness.

"Oh, you're exaggerating," said Glibton; "there can't be such
widespread misery. Why, if there were, the people would be
wrecking our houses."

"Ah!" replied the other, sadly, "will you wait to be convinced by
that sort of thing before you believe in their misery? I assure
you what I say is true. I could bring you a hundred clergymen to
testify to it to-morrow morning."

"God forbid!" said Glibton. "Good-night."

The right honorable gentleman extinguished the subject in his own
little brain with his big hat; but everywhere else the sparks are
still aglow, and he, with all like him, may wake up suddenly, as
frightened women in the night; to find themselves environed in
the red glare of a popular conflagration. Well for them then if
they are not in charge of the State machinery. What an hour will
that be for hurrying to and fro with water-pipes and buckets,