"The pittance thus obtained serves but a short time, and they are again reduced to want. The eldest child--a lovely daughter, is taken ill, and while lying on a heap of rags in a corner of the room, the man calls and demands his rent. The poor woman has no money to satisfy his demands and he orders her to leave. She appeals to him, points to her ill child; but her prayers are unavailing--and in the hour of night she is thrust from the room, homeless, penniless, friendless! Yes! he--that man who now sits in the jury-box--he--Mr. Elder, the so-called _Christian_ and man of CHARITY--he, ejected this helpless woman from the shelter and forced her to wander in the night air with her sick child--her starving babes. He--the _extortioner_"--continued Harry, with every feature expressing the utmost scorn, "turned her from the wretched home she had found here, and left her to die on the sidewalks, like the veriest beggar. No touch of pity for the child, no feeling of sorrow for the innocent angel, no thought of the patriot lingering in prison, ever entered the mind of the extortioner. There was nothing but _self_ then, nothing but the promptings of his own avarice, which could view with indifference the miseries of others, so long as they should redound to his own benefit and aggrandizement. I tell you that man dare not deny a word I utter. He knows that every one is true, and if my language could wither him with shame, could make him the detestation of the world, I would speak yet stronger, for pity to him is but contempt for those he has injured.