"Well, if you won't come, I shall help myself, and that's unsociable," pursued the speaker, evidently, from the noise he made, suiting the action to the word. His tone was kind and sympathetic. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. He would know her address to-morrow. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once.
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