Still lower sinks the opium victim in his miserable career. The comfort and shelter of his paternal home are now things of the past. A roof which, from the absence of tiles, can hardly be said to cover, with at one side some bamboo matting to screen from the blast, and a mat, arranged to form a shelter, covering the place where meals, when forthcoming, may be cooked, is all that now remains to him of home. Surely he will see his folly, and give up the practice which has wrought him such ruin? _He cannot._ The appetite is perpetuated and intensified by that upon which it feeds. Without medical aid it would now probably be impossible to give up the habit, and indulgence in it has taken away all desire for assistance. [Illustration] No. 8. Not much better than the shed in which he lives by day, is the shelter in which he now spends the night. Somewhat screened by the garden fence, his bed, supported at one end on a pile of bricks, at the other on his only remaining stool, is still covered by his curtains, and his opium lamp is sufficiently sheltered to keep alight. Most of his clothes have gone to the pawnshop; ere long his curtains will follow them. His wife and child, the picture of misery, can only look with hopeless sorrow on the living and half-naked skeleton of the once portly and well-dressed gentleman. Wealth and property have gone, clothes and respectability have gone, home and health have gone, and what remains? Ah, what indeed! There is a ruined soul in that poor, heartless, wrecked body, almost beyond the possibility of salvation. [Illustration] No. 9. The victim of opium is now a homeless beggar, squatting in some out-of-the-way corner, and dependent upon charity for a morsel of bread. His unshaven head well agrees with the general squalor of his appearance, and the ground is now his only bed and table. His sole remaining possessions are his opium-pipe and a few earthenware cooking utensils. Some compassionate person, perhaps a former farm-servant, is bringing him a small flattened loaf. [Illustration] No. 10. Crime too often follows the destitution caused by opium-smoking; for _at all costs_ opium _must_ be had. Thefts, robberies, or even murders may result. The wretched culprit may have to flee from justice, or to make his escape from a neighbourhood which will no longer tolerate him. The very dogs pursue him. Probably the bucket in which the wanderer carries his pipe, and the labourer’s hat slung behind him, are both stolen. Some cave among the hills may shelter him, or the rocks may shield him from the cutting wind. [Illustration] No. 11.