Josephs did what he was bid. He could not still his sobs, but he turned his mournful eyes on Evans with a look of wonder at meeting with kindness from a human being, and half doubtingly put out his hand. So then Evans, to comfort him, took his hand and shook it several times in his hard palm, and said: “Good-night. You'll soon get warm, and don't think of it--that is the best way;” and Evans ran away in the middle of a sentence, for the look of astonishment the boy wore at his humanity went through the man's penitent heart like an arrow. Josephs lay quiet and his sobs began gradually to go down, and, as Evans had predicted, some little warmth began to steal over his frame; but he could not comply with all Evans's instructions; he could not help thinking of it. For all that, as soon as he got a little warm, Nature, who knew how much her tortured son needed repose, began to weigh down his eyelids, and he dozed. He often started, he often murmured a prayer for pity as his mind acted over again the scenes of his miserable existence; but still he dozed, and sleep was stealing over him. Sleep! life's nurse sent from heaven to create us anew day by day!--sleep! that has blunted and gradually cured a hundred thousand sorrows for one that has yielded to any moral remedy--sleep! that has blunted and so cured by degrees a million fleshly ills for one that drugs or draughts have ever reached--sleep had her arm round this poor child and was drawing him gently, gently, slowly, slowly to her bosom--when suddenly his cell seemed to him to be all in a blaze, and a rough hand shook him, and a harsh voice sounded in his ear. “Come, get up out of that, youngster,” it said, and the hand almost jerked him off the floor. “What is the matter?” inquired Josephs yawning. “Matter is, I want your bed.” Josephs rose half stupid, and Hodges rolled up his bed and blanket. “Are you really going to rob me of my bed?” inquired Josephs slowly and firmly. “Rob you, you young dog? Here is the governor's order. No bed and gas for fourteen days.” “No bed nor gas for fourteen days! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!” “Oh, you laugh at that, do you?” “I laugh at Mr. Hawes thinking to keep me out of bed for fourteen days, a poor wornout boy like me. You tell Hawes I'll find a bed in spite of him long before fourteen days.” Hodges looked about the cell for this other bed. “Come,” said he, “you must not chaff the officers. The governor will serve you out enough without your giving us any of your sauce.” Hodges was going with the bed. Josephs stopped him. The boy took this last blow quite differently from the gas; no impatience or burst of sorrow now. “Won't you bid me good-by, Mr. Hodges?” asked he. “Why not? Good-night.” “That isn't what I mean. Mr. Evans gave me his hand.” “Did he? what for?”