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ANOTHER SALOON SCENE--THE BRIDAL TROUSSEAU--THE LOVELY NURSE. As Hank Glutter's was unfortunately not the only saloon in the world, we will now open the scene on another place of the same sort, not many miles away from the smoking ruins; a place, where, for various reasons, men did congregate; some to gratify a vitiated appetite, others simply to indulge in a social glass, and still others because they had no where else to go; some because they were glad, and some because they were sad; each and all forgetting the words of the wise man, "Look not upon the wine." The door had just opened to admit a small party of young men. Among the number is Edward Sherman. There he stands, a little apart from the rest, just under the chandelier. Directly opposite, the shelves glitter in Bohemian and cut glass, and all the attractive features of the bar. Mark his proud and lofty bearing, as he steps forward and lifts the goblet to his lips. Again, and yet again, the cup goes round, until no longer he stands firmly among his companions. See him now, reeling, tottering, staggering, as he is borne away for the first time in his life, helplessly intoxicated, borne to his loving mother, whose grey hairs blanched whiter in that night of sorrow. In a desperate mood young Sherman had permitted himself to be thus overcome, and, when the effects of the stimulant had worn off, he strove by the most affectionate attentions to make amends for the pain he had occasioned his mother. He even went so far as to bend his proud spirit to offer something like an apology. "Mother," said he, as he placed his morning kiss upon her care worn face, before going to his office, "do not worry; I shall not again forget myself. It was foolish, I know, but I cared not at the time what became of me. Now don't worry. There is no danger of me." Mrs. Sherman sighed as the door closed on her darling. "So like his father," she murmured. Could she have seen him an hour later, the resemblance to his father might have struck her still more forcibly, for the social glass was again at his lips. Fortunately for the dear old lady, there were other claims upon her attention, and, from a sense of duty, she strove very hard to bury her anxiety for her son in the folds of silk and laces which were to constitute the wedding paraphernalia of her daughter. Lacking independence of thought, that young lady relied almost entirely upon the opinion of others, an
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