"Here is a man--alive by no fault of his own, and poor, even to starvation, through absolute want of work: and yet you begrudge him the necessaries of life! If he tries to commit suicide, you pillory and chastise him, and if he tries to keep life in him out of the superfluities of others, you pass on him this monstrous sentence!" cried the man. "Surely here is some fault in the structure of your society." "It is the law of the community!" said the magistrate, pompously. "And in what way is the law of the community so very sacred, that it should be counted of higher price than the life and welfare of a man? The law of the community may be a very pretty idol to play before, but in heaven it counts for nothing," said the quiet old man. "This man is a pestilent fellow," said the community. "He troubles us overmuch with this vision that he has knowledge of. Come, let us kill him!" And they smote him, and he died. THE UNCHRISTENED CHILD. "_Thee_ shaan't christen un, ef he's never christened!" said the father. "I've no faith in'ee: not a dinyun.[L] Go to Halifax to shoot gaanders: tha's all thee'rt fit for!" "He'll suffer for it, both here and hereafter," said the parson. "Doan't believe it!" said the man. "Wherever he dies, whether on land or on water, he will become a creature of that element instead of going to his rest," said the parson, with an angry light in his eyes. "Doan't believe it!" said the man: "an' thee doan't nayther." The parson marched off, disdaining to reply. The infant grew into a bright little lad, but there was always a certain oddity about him, and he saw and understood more than he ought. One day he was out fishing with a companion, in a tiny punt they had borrowed for the purpose, when he leaned overboard too far and fell into the sea. His little companion was so paralysed with terror that he could do nothing but set up a shrill screaming, clinging to the boat with both his hands. Silas rose once--and twice--with wildly-pleading eyes: his mouth full of water: his hair plastered against his head: then sank; and a third time emerged just above the surface; so close to the boat that his companion, leaning over, could see him sinking down slowly into the crystalline depths, with his hands stretched up and the hair on his head tapering to a point like the flame of a candle. "Silas! Silas!" the little lad shrieked. But Silas sank down; and ever down: lower and lower beneath the translucent waters, the vast flood deepening its tint above him, till at last he was hopelessly buried out of sight. When John Penberthy heard the terrible news he took the blow as a man might take a sentence of death--in grim silence, and with a sullen despair which nothing might henceforth banish or relieve. The roof-tree of his hopes was broken irretrievably, and he gazed down blankly at the ruin around his feet.