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