﻿262 PICTORIAL MISCELLANY. 



the denizens of this part of our city, for scenes of outrage upon life 

 and property had often there occurred. 



I was walking quite leisurely along somewhere in the neighbor- 

 hood of Clark Alley, when I stopped short on hearing, in a ruffian- 

 like voice, " If you don't I^ll kill you." The voice proceeded from 

 a cellar. I listened a moment, and heard blows, and a boy crying in 

 heart-broken tones, " Oh ! my mother !" 



If it had cost me my life I should not have hesitated. I dashed 

 into that underground abode of passion and brutality, determined to 

 know why I had heard such words. There was a man, half intoxi- 

 cated, standing over a pale-looking boy, about ten years of age, 

 whom he had been cruelly beating. A woman lay, on what I sup- 

 pose they called a bed, about as insensible to humanity as her 

 drunken husband. The furniture of the room was trifling, and 

 seemed to embrace all the conveniences for drinking, which, by the 

 looks of the inmates, had been considerably improved. 



As I entered without much notice, cane in hand, the miserable 

 couple turned their inflamed eyes upon me with rage. I walked 

 boldly up in front of the man, and looking him resolutely in the face 

 said, "What are you doing with this child?" He made me no 

 reply, but loosening his hold of the lad, walked off to wards his wife. 



The poor boy, glad to be released, told me, in a low sobbing voice, 

 his story. His mother had died about two weeks before. She was 

 a widow, and he her only child. After her death he came to live 

 with his uncle, who took what little property his mother left ; that 

 they had now spent it, and were enraged with him because he would 

 not go out into the streets and steal something for which they could, 

 obtain rum. "And sir," said the little fellow, " I '11 die before I '11 

 steal ! My mother told me never to take what did not belong to me." 



" You are right, my good boy," I said, taking him by the hand ; 

 "come with me, and you shall no longer be dependent on these 

 wretches for a home." They saw I was in earnest, and, perhaps 

 intimidated by the cane, made no resistance ; but, cursing us smartly, 

 allowed us to walk out. 



I soon found that my young friend was a lad of spirit, although 

 almost heart-broken. Ill treatment, joined with grief at his mother's 

 death, had pressed heavily upon him. I talked with him on the way 



