ly leaving him at the door--he saw clearly that he had been
made the victim of De Vere's mean and cruel malice.

Moreover, he did not believe that a single glass of beer would have
produced such an effect upon him, and so he strongly suspected the
truth--that he had been drugged.

Still, he decided to bear the blame himself, and not throw it upon
another, though there might be justice in such a course. He felt
confident that the truth would at some time come to light, if he said
nothing about it, whereas, should he bring forward his suspicion as an
excuse for getting tipsy, the charge would at once be denied, and then
he would be less liable to fix the guilt upon the young villain who had
made him the plaything of his ill will.

He knew, also, that he was to blame for having visited the iniquitous
den at all, and much more for allowing himself to be persuaded to
indulge even in what is popularly considered a harmless drink.

He was so absent minded during the day, and showed so clearly in his
face that something was troubling him, that keen eyed John Rexford
observed it, and wondered what had happened to check the flow of the
boy's spirits.

Rexford was a selfish man, and thought that possibly something
pertaining to the store had gone wrong. Such an idea was enough to
arouse his suspicion, for he was wholly wrapped up in his business. He
could not look beyond that, and had no feeling for others--only making
an occasional show of it for the sake of policy.

A man who lives in such a way is not half living. He is not broad,
intelligent, liberal, and sympathetic, but is narrowed down to a sordid,
grasping existence.

I often pity such men, for though they may have wealth in abundance,
they know not how to enjoy it. Neither do they possess the faculty of
deriving pleasure from kindness and generosity.

They can see no beauty in art or nature, and when they become unfit for
pursuing their vocation, they have nothing to look forward to. The life
beyond is something to which they have given little thought. They have
starved their nobler nature that is nourished on higher things, until it
is dwarfed and shriveled, and the baleful results of such an unnatural
mode of life are pictured in their countenances.

Fred's most trying ordeal during the day was that of going to Dr.
Dutton's house with goods; for if others did not know of what was on his
mind, surely the doctor's family did. He knew that he had forfeited the
g