" "My wealth," replied Mrs. ” She looked at her toes. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. "Mother, I come to you. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. He was in a curious state of desperation. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John.
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