Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. The man lingered. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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