Arthur took a silver dollar from his pocket and gave it to the girl. "Go home," he said, "and God pity you!" "Home!" she echoed, and took the dollar with an incredulous look, and then uttering a strange mad laugh, she went to spend the dollar,--one-half of it for rum and the other half to pay the rent which she owed to Trinity Church. (Here it occurs to us, to propose three cheers to good old Trinity Church,--and three more to the Patent Gospel which influences the actions of its venerable corporation. Hip--hip--hurrah! Hur--, but somehow the cheering dies away, when one thinks for a minute of the vast contrast between the Gospel of Trinity Church and the Gospel of the New Testament. I somehow think we won't cheer any more.) Up Broadway they resumed their march, Herman and Arthur, arm in arm, and silent as the grave. To see them walk so lovingly together, you would have thought them the best friends in the world. What's yonder light, flashing from the window of the fourth story? The light of a gambling hell, my friend. That light shines upon piles of gold and upon faces haggard with the tortures of the damned. And these half naked forms, crouching in the doorway of yonder unfinished edifice,--huddling together in their rags, and vainly endeavoring to keep out the winter's cold. Children,--friendless, orphaned children. All day long they roam the streets in search of bread, and at night they sleep together in this luxurious style. But we have arrived at the Astor and the Park stretches before us, the wind moaning among its leafless trees, and its lights glimmering in a sort of mournful radiance through the gloom. The Park, whose walks by day and night have been the theater of more tragedies of real life,--more harrowing agony, hopeless misery, starving despair,--than you could chronicle in the compass of a thousand volumes. Could these flag-stones speak, how many histories might they tell--histories of those, who, mad with the last anguish of despair, have paced these walks at dead of night, hesitating between crime and suicide, between the knife of the assassin and the last plunge of the self murderer!