What pen can describe the anguish of Arthur, when he found himself the inmate of a watch-house! His arrest had completely sobered him, and his intoxication was succeeded by a deathly and overpowering sickness, which he found it impossible to overcome. His companion treated the whole affair with the utmost indifference, and when the key was turned upon them had thrown himself heavily upon a bench, and immediately gone off into a drunken slumber. There were a few other prisoners besides themselves, bearing such a villainous, cut-throat appearance that Arthur shuddered as he looked at them. As his sickness in a measure subsided, he threw himself face downwards upon the hard, unyielding bench, and to escape the jeers of his companions, drew himself close up in a corner near the door, and pretended to be asleep. But alas! no sleep came to those burning eyeballs through those long--long hours, and though racked with a torturing headache and feverish thirst, he knew no way to relieve himself, and dared not move lest he should again encounter the ridicule of the brutes around him. He thought of himself as he was a few short hours before, wending his way to church at his brother's side, happy in the consciousness of duty well performed, and proud in the love and esteem which he felt were but his due. He contrasted the morning with the night; and saw himself the inmate of a guard-house, herding with men whose very breath seemed crime and profanation, and whose every word was blackened with oaths or curses. He felt that the stain of guilt was on his hitherto pure brow, traced there by the finger of a justly angry God, whose laws he had violated, whose commands he had broken, and whose day he had abused. He thought of the coming morning, with the public trial, when he would be turned forth with the stamp of a thief or drunkard upon him, and the finger of scorn pointing derisively at him. He thought of his blue-eyed, pure-minded brother, mourning his absence, and weeping over his shame. He remembered his mother--and the hot tears, so long pent up, gushed like raindrops through his trembling fingers, and bathed the hands which held that stricken head. A sense of weight and oppression came over him--it seemed as if he could not breathe--and gasping, he sprang from his recumbent position. A glow of relief crossed his features as he saw that all the men around him were asleep, and glancing through the barred window he saw the streaks of light in the east, announcing the approach of day. At this moment he heard the key turned in the lock, and thinking that other prisoners were about being admitted, and not caring either to see or be seen by them, he again threw himself full length upon the bench. An instant more and a gush of cool air swept, over him, and a hand fell cautiously on his shoulder. He raised his head, and met the twinkling eyes of Mr. Clinton fixed upon him.