thus firmly repulsed, he begs to assure her, on the word of a gentleman-a commodity always on hand, and exceedingly cheap with us-he was far from intending an insult. He meant it for a bit of a good turn-nothing more. “Always fractious at first-these sort of people are,” pursues Keepum, relighting his cigar as he sits on the sofa, squinting his right eye. “Take bravely to gentlemen after a little display of modesty-always! Try her again, Squire.” Mr. Snivel dashes the candle from her hand, and in the darkness grasps her wrists. The enraged girl shrieks, and calls aloud for assistance. Simultaneously a blow fells Mr. Snivel to the floor. The voice of Tom Swiggs is heard, crying: “Wretch! villain!—what brings you here? (Mr. Keepum, like the coward, who fears the vengeance he has merited, makes good his escape.) Will you never cease polluting the habitations of the poor? Would to God there was justice for the poor, as well as law for the rich; then I would make thee bite the dust, like a dying viper. You should no longer banquet on poor virtue. Wretch!—I would teach thee that virtue has its value with the poor as well as the rich;—that with the true gentleman it is equally sacred.” Tom stands a few moments over the trembling miscreant, Maria sinks into a chair, and with her elbows resting on the table, buries her face in her hands and gives vent to her tears. “Never did criminal so merit punishment; but I will prove thee not worth my hand. Go, wretch, go! and know that he who proves himself worthy of entering the habitations of the humble is more to be prized than kings and princes.” Tom relights the candle in time to see Mr. Snivel rushing into the street.