She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. It still failed in something. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue.
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