"And yet, if common report is true, had you taken a little care of
this young man, you would have saved six or seven thousand dollars
for yourself."

"That's my look-out," said Mr. Hueston.

"You knew how it would be," resumed the gentleman, in a severe,
rebuking voice, "and yet kept silence, permitting an honest,
confiding young man to fall into the clutches of a scoundrel. Mr.
Hueston, society holds you responsible for the ruin of one of its
members, equally responsible with the knave who was the agent of the
ruin. A word would have saved the young man; but, in your
indifference and disregard of others' good, you would not speak that
word. When next you see the miserable wreck of a human being that
but just now went staggering past, remember the work of your own
hands is before you."

And saying this, the man turned abruptly away, leaving Mr. Hueston
so much astonished and bewildered by the unexpected charge, as
scarcely to comprehend where he was. Recovering himself in a moment
or two, he walked slowly along, his eyes upon the ground, with what
feelings the reader may imagine.

A few days afterwards, his son-in-law, at his instance, went in
search of Eldridge for the purpose of offering him assistance, and
making an effort to reclaim him. But, alas! he was too late; death
had finished the work of ruin.