purity, and
happiness, and peace.

_Now_, how different! Houseless, homeless, shelterless--ragged, dirty,
starving--diseased, degraded, desperate! Unhappy Sinclair, that was a
fatal moment when thou did'st yield to the fascinations of that
beautiful Josephine Franklin!

It was near one o'clock, and the storm had increased to a perfect
hurricane. The miserable man had eaten nothing that day; he tottered off
with weakness, and was numbed with the cold. By an irresistible impulse
he wandered in the direction of his former home in Broadway. He found
the house brilliantly illuminated--strains of heavenly music issued from
it--lovely forms flitted past the windows, and peals of silvery laughter
mingled with the howling of the tempest. A grand party was given there
that night; the occupant of the house was a man of fashion and pleasure,
and he was celebrating the eighteenth birth-day of his beautiful
daughter.

Sinclair lingered long around the house--it seemed as if some invisible
power attracted him there. From the basement there arose the grateful,
savory odor of extensive cooking.

'I am starving,' said he to himself--'and they have plenty here. I will
go to the door, like a beggar, and implore a morsel of food.'

With feeble steps he descended to the basement, and with a trembling
hand he knocked at the door. It was opened by a fat, well-fed servant,
in livery, who demanded, in a surly tone, what he wanted?

'In heaven's name, give me food, for I am starving.'

'Ugh--a beggar!' said the servant, with disgust--'get you gone, we've
nothing for you; master never encourages vagrants.'

The door was shut in Sinclair's face; with an aching heart he crawled up
the steps, and then, as if suddenly nerved with a desperate resolve, he
approached the front door, and rang the bell. The door was opened by a
footman, who stared at the intruder with surprise and suspicion.

'Tell your master,' said Sinclair, faintly, 'that a person is here who
must speak with him. It is a matter of life and death.'

The servant did as requested; in a few minutes he returned and said:

'Master says that if your business is particular you must come into the
drawing room; he's not coming out here in the cold.'

He followed the servant thro' the hall; and in a moment more found
himself standing in the brilliantly lighted drawing-room, in the
presence of a numerous party of ladies and gentlemen. His miserable
appearance created quite a sensation