ll be satisfied."

"Well, be it so," I answered. "Proceed, and I will listen patiently."

Warton glanced at his wife, who rose immediately and quitted the room with
her three children. The latter were evidently staggered by the sudden
change in their circumstances, and they stared full in my face until the
latest moment. Being left alone with my new acquaintance, I felt, for a
short time, somewhat ill at ease; but when the poor fellow commenced his
history, my attention was excited, and I soon became wholly engrossed in
his recital, which proved far more strange and striking than I had any
reason to expect.

Mr Warton, as well as I can remember, spoke to me as follows:--

"Knowing what you do, sir," he began, "you will smile, and hardly believe
me, when I tell you that the sin of _Pride_ has been my ruin. Yes,
criminal as I was yesterday--beggar as I am to-day--surrounded by every
sign and evidence of want, I confess it to my shame--Pride, has helped to
bring me where I am--Pride, not resulting from the consciousness of blood,
or the possession of dignities and wealth--but pride, founded upon
nothing. I am one of three children. I had two sisters--both are dead. My
father was a workhouse boy, and his parentage was unknown. I told you that
I had little reason to build a self-esteem upon my family descent; yet
there was a period in my life when I would have given all I had in the
world for an honourable pedigree--to know that I had bounding in my veins
a portion of the blood that ages since had fallen to secure a nation's
liberties, or in any way had served to perpetuate its fame. Wealth, simple
wealth, I always regarded with disdain. I revered the well-born. My father
was apprenticed from the workhouse to a maker of watch-springs, living in
Clerkenwell; but after remaining with his master a few months, during
which time he was treated with great severity, he ran away. He obtained a
situation in the establishment of a silk-merchant in the city, and began
life on his own account as helper to the porter of the house. My father,
sir--we may speak well of the departed--had great abilities. He was a
wonderful man--not so much on account of what he accomplished, (and, in
his station, this was not a little,) as for what he proved himself to be,
under every disadvantage that could retard a man struggling through the
world, even from his infancy. His perseverance was remarkable, and he had
a depth of feeling which no ill treatme