NIGHT THE FOURTH.
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—"only mother. And she cries so much when you are away."
"I won't leave her, Mary, only when I go to work," said Morgan, whispering back to the child. "And I'll never go out at night any more."
"Yes; you promised me that."
"And I'll promise more."
"What, father?"
"Never to go into a tavern again."
"Never!"
"No, never. And I'll promise still more."
"Father?"
"Never to drink a drop of liquor as long as I live."
"Oh, father! dear, dear father!" And with a cry of joy Mary started up and flung herself upon his breast. Morgan drew his arms tightly around her, and sat for a long time, with his lips pressed to her cheek—while she lay against his bosom as still as death. As death? Yes; for, when the father unclasped his arms, the
