“What’s all this about?” he asked, sternly.

“Jake’s drunk again, that’s the row,” answered a voice.

“Lock him up, lock him up!” cried two or three from the crowd.

An expression of savage defiance came into the face of the blind man, and he moved his arms and clenched his fist like one who was bent on desperate resistance.  He was large and muscular, and, now that he was excited by drink and bad passions, had a look that was dangerous.

“Go home and behave yourself,” said the policeman, not caring to have a single-handed tussle with the human savage, whose strength and desperate character he well knew.

Blind Jake, as he was called, stood for a few moments half defiant, growling and distorting his face until it looked more like a wild animal’s than a man’s, then jerked out the words,

“Where’s that Pete?” with a sound like the crack of a whip.

The boy he had been beating in his drunken fury, and who did not seem to be much hurt, came forward from the crowd, and taking him by the hand, led him away.

“Who is this blind man?  I have seen him before,” said Mr. Dinneford.

“You may see him any day standing at the street corners, begging, a miserable-looking object, exciting the pity of the humane, and gathering in money to spend in drunken debauchery at night.  He has been known to bring in some days as high as ten and some fifteen dollars, all of which is wasted in riot before the next morning.  He lives just over the way, and night after night I can hear his howls and curses and laughter mingled with those of the vile women with whom he herds.”

“Surely this cannot be?” said Mr. Dinneford.

“Surely it is,” was replied.  “I know of what I speak.  There is hardly a viler wretch in all our city than this man, who draws hundreds—­I might say, without exaggeration, thousands—­of dollars from weak and tender-hearted people every year to be spent as I have said; and he is not the only one.  Out of this district go hundreds of thieves and beggars every day, spreading themselves over the city and gathering in their harvests from our people.  I see them at the street corners, coming out of yards and alley-gates, skulking near unguarded premises and studying shop-windows.  They are all impostors or thieves.  Not one of them is deserving of charity.  He who gives to them wastes his money and encourages thieving and vagrancy.  One half of the successful burglaries committed on dwelling-houses are in consequence of information gained by beggars.  Servant-girls are lured away by old women who come in the guise of alms-seekers, and by well-feigned poverty and a seeming spirit of humble thankfulness—­often of pious trust in God—­win upon their sympathy and confidence.  Many a poor weak girl has thus been led to visit one of these poor women in the hope of doing her some good, and many a one has thus been drawn into evil ways.  If the people only understood this matter as I understand it, they would shut hearts and hands against all beggars.  I add beggary as a vice to drinking and policy-buying as the next most active agency in the work of making paupers and criminals.”