as she handed the glass to Agnes,

"We shall both be the better for drinking it."

The unsuspecting girl drank the most of it without tasting; taking the glass from her lips she said, "Mrs. Willard, I was not aware that mint was so bitter."

"Mine is a little bitter, but it is very good; you had better drink all of it. Agnes did so, and ate the sugar from the bottom. Mrs. Willard seated herself by the window, waiting the result of her infernal deed; a short time showed that it was e effectual. She saw that it was impossible for her faithful nurse to keep awake, and again went to her, patted her playfully on her check, "Come, dearest, you must lie down, you will fall out of your chair; let me lead you to your bed." Agnes, stupified, yielded to the entreaty, and suffered the monster to almost carry

her to an adjoining room, where she lay till late the next morning in a state of unconsciousness. Mrs. Willard, being left to herself, stealthily took from the pocket of her husband the key of the bar. She lost no time in unlocking the magazine of death, taking from the shelf a large decanter well filled, and returned to the side of her babe and commenced her de bauch.

CHAPTER VI.

THE INEBRIATE WIFE.

"Man sinks beneath misfortune's blow,
And hope forsakes his breast;
His boasted powers are all laid low,
His strength is swallowed up in woe,
When not by woman blest,"

F. J. Waters.

THE sky, that had been clear the forepart of that memorable night, had suddenly become overcast, and the fair face of the moon was veiled in a drapery of gloom; and the distant thunder told of an approaching storm. By the red glare of the lightning, the pale face of the sufferer could be seen, as he lay near the open casement. The midnight lamp remained untrimmed, shedding a sickly light upon a scene that baffled description. Mrs.

Willard continued to drink till she was too much intoxicated to attend to the wants of her suffering child; he was often disturbed by her clumsy hands rummaging about for she knew not what. Emptying her glass again, she sank back in her chair, and was insensible to what passed around her. The rain was now pouring in torrents, a strong wind was blowing in at the window, carrying in large drops which fell upon the cradle, until the thick blankets, were wet through and through.

The inebriate finally lost her equilibrium, and fell heavily upon the floor. The noise awoke Mr. Willard, who rushed from his room. For a moment he stood horror-stricken at the scene before him; his wife made an attempt to rise by seizing upon the edge of the cradle. Before the distracted father could reach the cradle, it was turned

over. He sprang forward, took the child in his arms, and with one blow he sent his wife to the floor, to all appearance lifeless; for a moment silence reigned unbroken save by the death rattle of the child. Joe and Bob hurried to the scene of suffering. They were frightened by the maniac glare of Mr. Willard, as, grating his teeth, he ordered them to take the monster ont of his sight. She was immediately borne to another part of the house. Mr. Willard continued to pace the apartment with his dying child folded tight to his bosom, and was deaf to all entreaties. His deep groans and distorted features told of the dreadful tempest within. At length Dr. Livingston came as he had been requested. Alighting from his sulky, he met several gentlemen coining out of the house. The Doctor bade them a polite "good morning," adding,