, and fills dishonored graves, blighting all that
is divine and godlike in human nature, sealing the gushing fountain of
maternal tenderness, and teaching even a mother's heart forgetfulness. O
God! of what punishment shall thy justice deem those worthy, who, by
cold neglect, cruelty, or shameful slavery to such a passion, shut out
the light, and check the rich and limitless expansion of all that is
divine in the souls committed to their charge? Ah! what did it matter
that there were honorable titles affixed to the name so disgraced, that
in the home thus blighted were all the luxuries and appliances of
wealth, that rare pictures hung against its walls, carpets covered the
floors whose velvet surface muffled the footfalls, costly curtains shut
out the too garish light, that servants were at command, well paid to
take care of the neglected children, paid to care for the house, and all
fine things within it, and--paid to keep its secrets! What did all this
matter to the miserable possessor of wealth and name, the disgraced
husband, the heart-broken father? He could comprehend this woe in all
its bearings, could measure the length, the breadth, the depth of the
curse that had lighted upon him? Homes there were whose walls and floors
were bare, whose windows were shaded by no costly curtains, but from
which happy faces looked--lowly homes, poor in this world's wealth, but
rich in domestic peace and love; and for the blessed quiet of their
lowly hearthstones, he would joyfully have bartered wealth and fame, and
all such dross as men call happiness. And Harry saw them too. The
little, lonely heart, saddened by a shadow it could not comprehend, from
its own gloomy home turned longingly to their homely cheerfulness, as
flowers turn to the light.

One in particular had attracted his childish notice. It was just across
the road; he could see it from the window of the nursery where he
played, and he used to leave his play to watch it. Such glimpses of a
happy home had streamed through its opening portals and fallen on the
heart of the little solitary watcher like a benison. What hasty peeps he
took at its homely brightness as the door opened and closed, and what
long, long looks he bestowed upon it, when it stood open for hours
together, as it did now in the fine June weather! It was only a simple
cottage. Too unpretending for hall or entry, the little parlor opened
into the street, and from the window where he stood, Harry could s