dation stones of the home. Young men enter their houses,
and over the mirror of their lives, comes the shadow of pollution.
Companionship with them unprepares them for the pure, simple joys of a
happy and virtuous home; a place which should be the best school for the
affections; one of the fairest spots on earth and one of the brightest
types of heaven. Such a home as this, may exist without wealth, luxury
or display; but it cannot exist without the essential elements of
purity, love and truth.

The story was read, and then came the various comments.

"Oh, it was dreadful," said one. "Mr. Loraine belongs to one of the
first families in the town; and what a cut it will be to them, not
simply that he has been murdered, but murdered where he was--in the
house of Lizzie Wilson. I knew her before she left husband and took to
evil courses."

"Oh, what a pity, I expect it will almost kill his wife, poor thing, I
pity her from the bottom of my heart."

"Why what's the matter Harry Richards? You look as white as a sheet, and
you are all of a tremor."

"I've just come from the coroner's inquest, had to be one of the
witnesses. I am afraid it will go hard with Coots."

"Why? What was the verdict of the jury?"

"They brought in a verdict of death by killing at the hands of John
Coots."

"Were you present at the murder?"

"Yes."

"How did it happen?"

"Why you see John had been spending his money very freely on Lizzie
Wilson, and he took it into his head because Loraine had made her some
costly presents, that she had treated him rather coolly and wanted to
ship him, and so he got dreadfully put out with Loraine and made some
bitter threats against him. But I don't believe he would have done the
deed if he had been sober, but he's been on a spree for several days and
he was half crazy when he did it. Oh it was heartrending to see
Loraine's wife when they brought him home a corpse. She gave an awful
shriek and fell to the floor, stiff as a poker; and his poor little
children, it made my heart bleed to look at them; and his poor old
mother. I am afraid it will be the death of her."

In a large city with its varied interests, one event rapidly chases the
other. Life-boats are stranded on the shores of time, pitiful wrecks of
humanity are dashed amid the rocks and reefs of existence. Old faces
disappear and new ones take their places and the stream of life ever
hurries on to empty where death's waters meet.

*