ad its last link in an iron staple deep fixed in the stone floor. His
head was sunk on his bosom, and he sat abject and despairing.

"What a wicked man he must be!" thought the boy, and was turning to run
away in terror, when the man lifted his head, and his look caught and
held him. For he saw a pale, worn, fierce countenance, which, somehow,
through all the added years, and all the dirt that defiled it, he
recognized as his own. For a moment the prisoner gazed at him
mournfully; then a wild passion of rage and despair seized him; he
dragged and tore at his chains, raved and shrieked, and dashed himself
on the ground like one mad with imprisonment. For a time he lay
exhausted, then half rose and sat as before, gazing helplessly upon the
ground.

By and by a spider came creeping along the bar of his fetters. He put
out his hand, and, with the manacle on his wrist, crushed it, and
smiled. Instantly through the gloom came a strong, clear, yet strangely
sweet voice--and the very sweetness had in it something that made the
boy think of fire. And the voice said:

"So! in the midst of misery, thou takest delight in destruction! Is it
not well thou art chained? If thou wast free, thou wouldst in time
destroy the world. Tame thy wild beast, or sit there till I tame him."

The prisoner peered and stared through the dusk, but could see no one;
he fell into another fit of furious raving, but not a hair-breadth would
one link of chain yield to his wildest endeavor.

"Oh, my mother!" he cried, as he sank again into the grave of
exhaustion.

"Thy mother is gone from thee," said the voice, "outworn by thine evil
ways. Thou didst choose to have thyself and not thy mother, and there
thou hast thyself, and she is gone. I only am left to care for thee--not
with kisses and sweet words, but with a dungeon. Unawares to thyself
thou hast forged thine own chains, and riveted them upon thy limbs. Not
Hercules could free thee or himself from such imprisonment."

The man burst out weeping, and cried with sobs:

"What then am I to do, for the burden of them is intolerable?"

"What I will tell thee," said the voice; "for so shall thy chains fall
from thee."

"I will do it," said the man.

"Thy prison is foul," said the voice.

"It is," answered the prisoner.

"Cleanse it, then."

"How can I cleanse it when I cannot move?"

"Cannot move! Thy hands were upon thy face a moment gone--and now they
are upon the floor! Near one of those