of Bacchus. Sometimes he would continue drinking for several days, until
every penny was exhausted. Then he would make demands at home for more
money, which if refused, he was sure to abuse his wife and family. He
was not only a drunkard; he was a scoffer at religion, and considered it
a mark of honor to take the name of God in vain.

On the following day after Frederick's interview with Clara, Collins
came home partly intoxicated, and demanded more money to help him, as he
said, to finish off a spree with an old comrade whom he had not seen for
several years. Mrs. Collins expostulated with him, but to no purpose. He
became, at length, exasperated, and threatened to turn them all out upon
the street, and burn the house down. Clara attempted to pacify him,
which only made him the more outrageous. He swore every oath imaginable
at her, insolently ordering her to be off with her child, and find
lodgings with the villain to whom she had prostituted herself, or else
he would soon pitch her and her little bratling into the Thames.

"Here, Tom, take this, 'tis the last shilling I have in the house. Now,
dear Tom, like a good husband, keep quiet, and don't abuse Clara and me
so much as you do," said Mrs. Collins with a pitiable sort of tone, the
tears trickling down her grief furrowed cheeks.

"Well, Annie, but you're a good sort of wife after all," replied
Collins, in a somewhat subdued tone. "As for Clara, I like her well
enough! but I have resolved that I shall not labor any longer to support
the child of that blackguard of a fellow, who, as I have been informed,
has absconded to Canada. I hate him, and I detest his child--the dirty,
yelping thing that it is. If it is not instantly removed from here, I
shall make short work of it to-night on my return. _Mark my words,
Clara_," he emphatically added, and putting the shilling into his pocket