(Continued From Yesterday.)
There, a story to distinguish the thoughts,
He sat on a bench beneath some trees
and watched. A number of children at
play. In the midst of games, he found some.
It really did seem that there was a
genuine act of some mysterious and sinister law,
drought off into the paths of misery. These children
were happy and carefree. Why could they not
crow up into reputable citizens? Why should laughter
change to tears; fresh, smooth skins enter into
features beset by crime and lust? He was startled from his mournful reverie by a loud shout, and the smiting of passers-by to an ornamental bridge which spanned, at a considerable height, a lake meandering through the park. Out of the tail of his eyes, he saw a girl poised on the parapet. Then, with a despairing cry, the poor creature flung herself into the water.
It was palpably a case of attempted suicide, yet not a man among the score or more who had seen her climb the railing attempted other means of rescue than wild shouting for the police and frantic gesticulations to a boat too distant to render timely aid. Tearing off his coat as he went, John raced to the nearest point on the bank and plunged in. 