A severe illness followed; this occurred again and again; the necessity for air and exercise gained him occasionally a pass from the surgeons, always followed by the same sad result. The men despised him, treated him accordingly, and his case seemed hopeless. One day, one of our poor men, who was in a dying condition, fancied a piece of fresh shad--it was one of those sick longings, which, of course, we were anxious to gratify. Permission gained to send for it, I turned to one of the men at my side, and said, “Will you go to the market and get it for him?” Brown, who was standing near, sprang eagerly forward, “Oh! do let me go for you; I won’t be a minute, and the doctor said a walk would be good for me.” The sad doubt in my mind must have written itself upon my face, for its effect was reflected by the deep pain and wounded expression in his own. My resolution was taken instantly, and I resolved to risk it. Holding the money to him, I said, “Take it, then, and come back quickly.” The blood rushed to his face, and the beaming look of gratitude made me sure that this was the best mode of treating him. Men are too often just what they are assumed to be; treat them as men of honor, such they will be; treat them as knaves, such also they will be. I mean not to affirm that there is no such thing as abstract truth or principle; far from it; but I do mean to say, that where the moral sense is weak, far more is gained by treating men as though we trusted, than as though we doubted. It is the unconscious tribute paid, all the world over, to honor and virtue. They would fain be or appear to be, all that we think them; and who can tell how far we may aid a sinking soul by the kind word of hopeful trust; or, on the other hand, by assuming a man to be utterly degraded, help to make him become so, in reality? And yet, scarcely had Brown left my sight, ere the doubt returned. He had been doing better lately. I had thrown him into temptation; would he have strength to avoid it? Visions of illness, disgrace, suffering, and the guard-house, filled my mind. These thoughts were not dissipated by M.’s sudden question, “Who did you send for that fish? How long he stays!” With something of a pang of conscience, although quite aware that I had acted from the best motives, I said, courageously, “I sent Brown; it is not so very long.” “Brown! Oh! how could you? You know what will happen?” As I rely upon her judgment more than my own, my anxiety is not relieved, though concealed. The minutes grow to hours, and still no tidings of him. Another trial; the wardmaster appears. “G---- wants to know if you’ve got his fish? you promised to send at once.” “Not yet,” I said, “but I hope I shall very soon.” A very faint hope, it must be confessed. As he left the ladies’ room, I heard one of the men say to him, “G----’ll get no fish to-day. Do you know who she sent? Brown, if you’ll believe it.” A prolonged whistle. “Didn’t she know?”