"For God's sake don't let them carry me off body and soul! Ah, they hiss at me with their venomous tongues! Yes! yes, they are crawling over me! They are sucking the blood in my brain! Evelyn, come to me! I will not send you away again. Oh, take me out of this fire! I'm burning! Oh God, I'm burning to death!"

Such were the incoherent ravings of the shabbily clad creature who had been found lying in a gutter at the end of a street leading to an alley in which were several notorious gambling dens.

Like the parable of the Levite and Samaritan many "had passed by on the other side," but there are good Samaritans at the present day and one came in the form of an elderly gentleman with locks of hoary hair and a benign yet sad expression of countenance. He is accompanied by a sweet-faced woman and a delicate looking child with flaxen curls and eyes of heavenly blue.

"Stay Clarice, we must see who he is, or why he is here," said the old gentleman putting the child in the care of a friend and hastening to the scene with the agility of youth.

"That man was thrown out of that farthest tavern there, sir," said a raw-boned youth, who was standing with his eyes and month open awaiting further developments of the case then before him.

"The same old story, father. They encouraged him until the last farthing is gone, and then he is turned out to die. Oh! how horrible," and the woman laid her hand upon her father's arm as if wishing to get away from the sad and cruel sight.

"He was once a gentleman, sir," said the youth with the air of one who knew much of the affairs of the neighborhood, and was anxious to impress the bystanders.

The old gentleman beckoned to a couple of policemen, and thus armed made his way to the infamous den.

The grey hairs and reverential mien pleaded more than the most honeyed words, and within a short time all necessary information was obtained. Amid shrieks and groans, Montague Arnold was placed in a cab and conveyed to a public hospital, and the good, old Samaritan went on his way happy in the thought of having done his duty.

Nor did he rest here.

On the following day, after having made inquires as to the unfortunate man's condition, he set forth to find the destitute and unhappy wife. Five or six hours search in a wretched tenement habitation, and a sad scene presented itself.

After climbing the third flight of rickety stairs the old gentleman sees a shabbily dressed woman, and as he glances at the surroundings his soul sickens. All is drear and desolate. The apartment is cold, and a few coals seem trying to keep a little glow that the poor creature may not succumb to the pitiless element.

Some coarse shirts are lying upon the rude table--it is the same old song which Hood made immortal:--

"Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread
A shroud as well as a shirt."