He noticed
that some came out presently, banging the door harder, and went,
smoking and shouting, down the street. Still they poured in and out,
while the street was startled with their stimulated riot, and the
bar-room within echoed their trampling feet and hoarse voices. Then,
as his glance wandered upward to his tenant's window, he thought of
the sick child, mixing this hideous discord in the dreams of fever.
The word brought up the name and the thought of his dead friend. "In
the name of the Saviour, I charge you be true and tender to mankind!"
The memory of these words seemed to ring clearly, as if a voice had
spoken them, above the roar that suddenly rose in his mind. In that
moment he felt himself a wretched and most guilty man. He felt that
his cruel words had entered that humble home, to make desperate poverty
more desperate, to sicken sickness, and to sadden sorrow. Before him
was the dram-shop, let and licensed to nourish the worst and most brutal
appetites and instincts of human natures, at the sacrifice of all their
highest and holiest tendencies.
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