ut little Bill
and his mother dwelling as strongly as I could upon the suffering
condition of the poor boy.

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Miller, as I closed my narrative--"can
all this indeed be true? So much for hasty judgment from
appearances! You have heard the melancholy history of my wife?"

I bowed an assent.

"From these evidences, that bear the force of truth, it is plain
that she was innocent, though adjudged guilty of one of the most
heinous offences against society. Innocent, and yet made to suffer
all the penalties of guilt. Ah, sir--I thought life had already
brought me its bitterest cup: but all before were sweet to the taste
compared with the one I am now compelled to drink. Nothing is now
left me, but to take home my child. But, as he grows up toward
manhood, how can I look him in the face, and think of his mother
whom I so deeply wronged."

"The events of the past, my dear sir," I urged, "cannot be altered.
In a case like this, it is better to look, forward with hope, than
backward with self-reproaches."

"There is little in the future to hope for," was the mournful reply
to this.

"But you have a duty to perform, and, in the path of duty, always
lie pleasures."

"You mean to my much wronged and suffering child. Yes, I have a
duty, and it shall be performed as faithfully as lies in my power.
But I hope for little from that source."

"I think you may hope for much. Your child I have questioned
closely. He knows nothing of his history; does not even know that
his father is alive. The only information he has received from his
mother is, that W---- is his uncle."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Oh yes. I have, as I said, questioned him very closely on this
point."

This seemed to relieve the mind of Mr. Miller. He mused for some
minutes, and then said--

"I wish to see my son, and at once remove him from his present
position. May I ask you to accompany me to the place where he now
is."

"I will go with pleasure," I returned, rising.

We left my office immediately, and went direct to Maxwell's shop. As
we entered, we heard most agonizing cries, mingled with hoarse angry
imprecations from the shoemaker and the sound of his strap. He was
whipping some one most severely. My heart misgave me that it was
poor little Bill. We hurried into the shop. It was true. Maxwell had
the child across his knees, and was beating him most cruelly.

"That is your son," I said, in an excited voice to Miller, poin