After the older children had been put to bed, she made the two younger ones draw near to the hearth, upon which a few brands were burning, and warm themselves as well as the feeble heat emitted by the almost exhausted fire would permit. Then she wrapped each around with a piece of an old shawl, and after putting on her bonnet, took them by the hands and left the house. It was a chilly night in winter. The wind swept coldly along the streets, piercing through the thin garments of the desperate mother, who was leading forth her tender little ones on some strange, unnatural errand. But she shrunk not in the blast, but walked rapidly along, almost dragging the children after her. At length she stopped before the window of an ale-house, and standing on tip-toe, looked over the red curtain that shaded half the window, and concealed the inmates from the view of passers by. Within she saw her husband sitting comfortably by a table, a glass by his side, and a pipe in his mouth. Half a dozen pot-companions were sitting around, and all seemed enjoying themselves well. Mrs. Lyon remained without only a few moments; then taking hold of the door she walked firmly in, and without appearing to notice her husband, went up to the bar and called for three glasses of brandy. After doing this, she seated herself at a table near by her husband. Great, of course, was the surprise of Lyon at this apparition. He jumped from his chair and stood before his wife, just as she had taken her seat at the table, saying, in an undertone, as he did so— “For Heaven’s sake, Sally! what brings you here?” “It is very lonesome at home, Ralph,” she replied, in a calm but sad voice. “Our wood is all gone, and it is cold there. I am your wife, and there is no company for me like yours. I will go anywhere to be with you. I am willing to come even here.” “But, Sally, to think of your coming to such a place as this.” “If it is pleasant to you, it shall be so to me. Any where that my husband goes, surely I can go. God hath joined us together as one, and nothing should divide us.” By this time the three glasses of brandy that Mrs. Lyon had called for were placed before her on the table. “Bring another glass,” said Mrs. Lyon calmly, “my husband will drink with us.” “Sally, are you mad?” ejaculated Ralph. “Mad, to go with my husband? Why should you say that, Ralph? Drink, children,” she added, turning to her two little ones, and placing a glass of unadulterated brandy before them. “It will do you good.” As Sally said this, she lifted her own glass to her lips. “Surely, you are not going to drink that?” said Ralph. “Why not? You drink to forget sorrow; and if brandy have that effect, I am sure no living creature needs it more than I do. Besides, I have eaten nothing to-day, and need something to strengthen me.” Saying this, she sipped the burning liquid, and smacking her lips, looked up into her husband’s face and smiled.