nner earnest, and
her large, dark eyes bright with an eager purpose. She glanced
neither to the right nor the left, but walking up to the landlord,
lifted to him her sweet young face, and said, in tones that thrilled
every heart but his,--

"Please, Mr. Jenks, don't sell papa any more liquor!"

"Off home with you, this instant!" exclaimed Jenks, the crimson of
his face deepening to a dark purple. As he spoke, he advanced
towards the child, with his hand uplifted in a threatening attitude.

"Please don't, Mr. Jenks," persisted the child, not moving from
where she stood, nor taking her eyes front the landlord's
countenance. "Mother says, if you wouldn't sell him liquor, there'd
be no trouble. He's kind and good to us all when he doesn't drink."

"Off, I say!" shouted Jenks, now maddened beyond self-control; and
his hand was about descending upon the little one, when the stranger
caught her in his arms, exclaiming, as he did so, with deep
emotion,--

"God bless the child! No, no, precious one!" he added; "don't fear
him. Plead for your father--plead for your home. Your petition must
prevail! He cannot say nay to one of the little ones, whose angels
do always behold the face of their Father in heaven. God bless the
child!" added the stranger, in a choking voice. "O, that the father,
for whom she has come on this touching errand, were present now! If
there were anything of manhood yet left in his nature, this would
awaken it from its palsied sleep."

"Papa! O, papa!" now cried the child, stretching forth her hands. In
the next moment she was clinging to the breast of her father, who,
with his arms clasped tightly around her, stood weeping and mingling
his tears with those now raining from the little one's eyes.

What an oppressive stillness pervaded that room! Jenks stood subdued
and bewildered, his state of mental confusion scarcely enabling him
to comprehend the full import of the scene. The stranger looked on
wonderingly, yet deeply affected. Quietly, and with moist eyes, the
two or three drinking customers who had been lounging in the bar,
went stealthily out; and the landlord, the stranger and the father
and his child, were left the only inmates of the room.

"Come, Lizzie, dear! This is no place for us," said Leslie, breaking
the deep silence. "We'll go home."

And the unhappy inebriate took his child by the hand, and led her
towards the door. But the little one held back.

"Wait, papa; wait!" she said. "H