f
both body and mind--that banishes dacency and shame--that laves many a
widow and orphan to the marcy of an unfeelin' world--that fills the
jail and the madhouse--that brings many a man an' woman to a disgraceful
death--an' that tempts us to the commission of every evil;--that curse,
darlins, is whiskey--drinkin' whiskey--an' it is drinkin' whiskey that
has left us as we are, and that has ruined your father, and destroyed
him forever."

"Well, but there's no other curse over us, mother?"

The mother paused a moment--

"No, darlin'," she replied; "not a curse--but my father and mother both
died, and did not give me their blessin'; but now, Atty, don't ask me
anything more about that, bekase I can't tell you." This she added from
a feeling of delicacy to her unhappy husband, whom, through all his
faults and vices, she constantly held up to her children as an object of
respect, affection, and obedience.

Again the little ones were getting importunate for food, and their cries
were enough to touch any heart, much less that of a tender and loving
mother. Margaret herself felt that some unusual delay must have
occurred, or the messenger she sent to her sister must have long since
returned; just then a foot was heard outside the door, and there was an
impatient cessation of the cries, in the hope that it was the return
of Nanny Hart--the door opened, and Toal Finnigan entered this wretched
abode of sorrow and destitution.

There was something peculiarly hateful about this man, but in the eyes
of Margaret there was something intensely so. She knew right well that
he had been the worst and most demoralizing companion her husband ever
associated with, and she had, besides, every reason to believe that,
were it not for his evil influence over the vain and wretched man, he
might have overcome his fatal propensity to tipple. She had often told
Art this; but little Toal's tongue was too sweet, when aided by his
dupe's vanity. Many a time had she observed a devilish leer of satanic
triumph in the misshapen little scoundrel's eye, when bringing home
her husband in a state of beastly intoxication, and for this reason,
independently of her knowledge of his vile and heartless disposition,
and infamous character, she detested him. After entering, he looked
about him, and even with the taint light of the rush she could mark that
his unnatural and revolting features were lit up with a hellish triumph.

"Well, Margaret Murray," said h