“I am JUSTICE,” said the figure.  “You have been weighed in the balance and found wanting.  The world is sustained by mutual benefits.  No man can live wholly for himself.  Each must serve the others.  What one man produces another enjoys.  You have enjoyed, in abundance, the good things produced by others; but what has been your return?  Let me show you the work of your hands.  Look!”

Suddenly there was a murmur of voices; the sound came nearer and nearer, and a crowd of men and women came eagerly toward the prostrate distiller—­all eyes upon him, and all countenances expressive of anger, rebuke, or despair.  One poor mother held towards him her ragged, starving child, and cried—­

“Your cursed trade has murdered his father.  Give him back to us!”

Another marred and degraded wretch called, with clenched hand—­

“Where is my money, my good name, my all?” You have robbed me of every thing!”

By his side was a poor drunkard, supporting the pale form of his sick wife, while their starving children stood weeping before them—­

“Look at us?” said he.  “It is your handy-work!”

And there were dozens of others in the squalid crowd who called to him with bitter execrations, or pointed to their ruined homes and cried—­

“It is your work!  Your work!  Rum—­rum has cursed us!”

“Yes, this is your work,” said Justice, sternly.  “For the good things of life you received on all hands from your fellow-men, you gave them back a stream of fire to consume them.  Wealth is the representative of use to society.  It comes, or should come, as a reward for serving the common good.  So earned, it is a blessing; and he who thus gains it has a right to its possession.  But, in your eager pursuit of gain you have cursed every man who brought you a blessing; and now your ill-gotten wealth must be given up.  See!”

And, as she spoke, she pointed to an immense bag of gold.

“It is all there!” continued Justice.  “Your houses and lands, your stocks and your merchandise, have been converted into gold; and I now distribute it once more among the people, to be gathered by those more worthy to possess it than thou!”

Then a troop of fiends came rushing down through the air, and, seizing the bag, were bearing it off in triumph, when the agonized sleeper sprang towards his gold, and in the effort threw off the terrible nightmare that was almost crushing out his life.

There was no sleep for him during the hours that intervened until the daylight broke.  The images he had seen, and the words he had heard, were before him all the time, crushing his heart like the pressure of heavy footsteps.  As soon as the day had dawned he started forth and sought the dwelling he had so hastily left on the night before.  All was silent as he ascended the stairway.  The door of the room where he had been stood partly open.  He listened a moment—­all