In a small house, in a back street, in the large manufacturing town of Cottonborough, the young wife of "Cobbler" Horn lay dying. It was the dusk of a wild evening in early winter; and the cruel cough, which could be heard every now and then, in the lulls of the wind, from the room upstairs, gave deepening emphasis to the sad fact that the youthful wife and mother-for such also she was-had fallen a victim to that fell disease which sweeps away so much of the fair young life of our land. "Cobbler" Horn himself was engaged just now in the duties of his calling, in the little workshop behind the...

In a small house, in a back street, in the large manufacturing town of Cottonborough, the young wife of "Cobbler" Horn lay dying. It was the dusk of a wild evening in early winter; and the cruel cough, which could be heard every now and then, in the lulls of the wind, from the room upstairs, gave deepening emphasis to the sad fact that the youthful wife and mother-for such also she was-had fallen a victim to that fell disease which sweeps away so much of the fair young life of our land. "Cobbler" Horn himself was engaged just now in the duties of his calling, in the little workshop behind the...