moon, the spectral masts, the dead houses on the opposite shore, the glitter of the river as from eyes that would close no more, gleamed in upon him, and a fresh terror of loneliness in the presence of the incomprehensible and the unsympathetic overcame him. He fell on his knees, and sought to pray; and doubtless in the ear that is keen with mercy it sounded as prayer, though to him that prayed it seemed that no winged thought arose to the infinite from a "heart as dry as dust." Mechanically, at length, all feeling gone, both of fear and of hope, he went back to his room and his bed. When he woke in the morning his landlady's voice was in his ears. "Well, how do we find ourselves to-day, sir? None the worse, I hope?" He opened his eyes. She stood by his bedside, with her short arms set like the handles of an urn. It was a common face that rose from between them, red, and with eyes that stood out with fatness. Yet Thomas was glad to see them looking at him, for there was kindness in them. "I am all right, thank you," he said. "Where will you have your breakfast?" she asked. "Where you please," answered Thomas. "Will you come down to the bar-parlor, then?" "I shall be down in a few minutes." "Jim Salter's inquirin' after ye." "Who?" said Thomas, starting. "Only Jim Salter, the man that brought you in last night, sir. I told him to wait till I came up." "I shall be down in one minute," said Thomas, a hope of his money darting into his mind. He had to pass through the bar to the little room at the back. Against the counter leaned Jim, smoking a short pipe, with his hand upon a pot of beer. When Thomas entered, he touched his cap to him, saying: "Glad to see you lookin' middlin', guvnor. Is there anything I can do for you to-day?" "Come into the room here," said Thomas, "and have something. I'm rather late, you see. I haven't had my breakfast yet." Salter followed him with his pewter in his hand. Thomas disliked his appearance less than on the preceding evening. What was unpleasant in his face was chiefly owing to the small-pox. He was dirty and looked _beery_, but there seemed to be no harm in him. He sat down near the door which led to the ladder already mentioned, and put his pot on the window-sill. Thomas asked him if he would have a cup of coffee, but he preferred his beer and his pipe. "You wanted to see me?" said Thomas, opening a conversation. "Oh! nothin' perticlar, guvnor. I only wanted to see if I could do anything for you," said Jim. "I was in hopes you had heard of something I lost, but I suppose it's at the bottom of the river," said Thomas. "Not your watch?" asked Salter, with some appearance of anxious interest. "A great deal worse," answered Thomas; "a pocket-book." "Much in it?" asked Jim, with a genuine look of sympathetic discomfiture. "More than I like to think of. Look," said Thomas, turning out the contents of his pocket, "that is all I have in the world."