r nation till now."--_Idem._

"O sailor boy, sailor boy, peace to thy soul!"--_Dibdin._

To one who would study human nature, especially in its darker features,
there is no better field of observation than among these pawn-brokers'
shops.

In a frequented establishment, each day unfolds an ample catalogue of
sorrow, misery, and guilt, developed in forms and combinations almost
innumerable; and if the history of each customer could be known, the
result would be such a catalogue as would scarcely be surpassed even by
the records of a police-office or a prison. Even my brief stay while
arranging for the redemption of Dr. Wheelwright's personals, afforded
materials, as indicated in the last chapter, for much and painful
meditation.

I had scarcely made my business known, at the first of "my uncle's"
establishments to which I had been directed, when a middle-aged man
entered with a bundle, on which he asked a small advance, and which, on
being opened, was found to contain a shawl and two or three other
articles of female apparel. The man was stout and sturdy, and, as I
judged from his appearance, a mechanic; but the mark of the destroyer
was on his bloated countenance and in his heavy, stupid eyes.
Intemperance had marked him for his own. The pawn-broker was yet
examining the offered pledge, when a woman, whose pale face and
attenuated form bespoke long and intimate acquaintance with sorrow,
came hastily into the shop, and with the single exclamation, "O
Robert!" darted, rather than ran, to that part of the counter where the
man was standing. Words were not wanted to explain her story. Her
miserable husband, not satisfied with wasting his own earnings, and
leaving her to starve with her children, had descended to the meanness
of plundering even her scanty wardrobe, and the pittance for the
obtaining of which this robbery would furnish means, was destined to be
squandered at the tippling-house. A blush of shame arose even upon his
degraded face, but it quickly passed away; the brutal appetite
prevailed, and the better feeling that had apparently stirred within
him for the moment, soon gave way before its diseased and insatiate
cravings.

"Go home," was his harsh and angry exclamation; "what brings you here,
running after me with your everlasting scolding? go home, and mind your
own business."

"O Robert, dear Robert," answered the unhappy wife, "don't pawn my
shawl. Our children are crying for bread, and I have none