e highway he came upon Major Luttrel, who stood looking down the
lane.

"I'm going to the Devil, sir!" cried Richard. "Give me your hand on it."

Luttrel held out his hand. "My poor young man," said he, "you're out of
your head. I'm sorry for you. You haven't been making a fool of
yourself?"

"Yes, a damnable fool of myself!"

Luttrel breathed freely. "You'd better go home and go to bed," he said.
"You'll make yourself ill by going on at this rate."

"I--I'm afraid to go home," said Richard, in a broken voice. "For God's
sake, come with me!"--and the wretched fellow burst into tears. "I'm too
bad for any company but yours," he cried, in his sobs.

The Major winced, but he took pity. "Come, come," said he, "we'll pull
through. I'll go home with you."

They rode off together. That night Richard went to bed miserably drunk;
although Major Luttrel had left him at ten o'clock, adjuring him to
drink no more. He awoke the next morning in a violent fever; and before
evening the doctor, whom one of his hired men had brought to his
bedside, had come and looked grave and pronounced him very ill.

DOCTOR MOLKE.

A SKETCH FROM LIFE.

As my own fancy led me into the Greenland seas, so chance sent me into a
Greenland port. It was a choice little harbor, a good way north of the
Arctic Circle,--fairly within the realm of hyperborean barrenness,--very
near the northernmost border of civilized settlement. But civilization
was exhibited there by unmistakable evidences;--a very dilute
civilization, it is true, yet, such as it was, outwardly recognizable;
for Christian habitations and Christian beings were in sight from the
vessel's deck,--at least some of the human beings who appeared upon the
beach were dressed like Christians, and veritable smoke curled
gracefully upward into the bright air above the roofs of houses from
veritable chimneys.

We had been fighting the Arctic ice and the Arctic storms for so long a
time, that it was truly refreshing to get into this good harbor. The
little craft which had borne us thither seemed positively to enjoy her
repose, as she lay quietly to her anchors on the still waters, in the
calm air and the blazing sunshine of the Arctic noonday. As for myself,
I was simply wondering what I should find ashore. A slender fringe of
European custom bordering native barbarism and dirt was what I
anticipated; for, as I looked upon the naked rocks,--which there, as in
other Greenland ports, affo