The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

like one struck with dismay. I was on the point of saying that it was quite impossible, for I had bee

turdy boatman. "I have been about here a great many years, and I

whether you call it murde

have seen many mad with misery

s it?"

the sturdy boatman. "The body of a litt

at had it to do with me? I knew nothing of any murdered child,

ted; "but how do you know it was murder

lder boatman; "it is but a fair little mite-a bab

rate face I had seen the night b

atman

ild is but a tender babe; all the greater murder for that; a

about it,

ing, or if the beautiful, desperate

n something about it attracted his attention more and more. He went nearer, and found that it was a gray and black shawl, that had caught on some large hooks which had been driven into the wooden pillars for some purpose or other-a woman's shawl, sur

d hastened to get it quickly off the hooks. It had been caught more tightly by accident than it could have been placed there by human hands. It wa

was enough to make the very angels weep! Some woman, sir-Heaven forbid that it was the mother-some woman had dressed it in pretty white clothes. It had a white gown, with lace, and a soft white woolen cap on

never meant to be caught. But the great God, He is above all, and He knows the littl

ch a thing could never be done without some

en cap. And I can tell you another thing, sir-a man would never have killed a child like that; not that I am upholding men-some of them are brutes en

Heaven grant that she might have nothing to

ts was it?

hand to the very spo

e bundle was thrown, and there, just below the

Oh, beautiful, despairing face, what w

erintendent of the police is there now; but they will never find out who did that.

the little group as to the morning being a

bundle, so white, so fair, like a small, pale rose-bud, and by it, in a wet heap, lay the black and gray shawl. I knew it in one moment; there was not another word to be said; that was the same shawl I had seen in the woman's hands when she dropped the little bundle into the sea-the self-same. I had seen it plainly by the bright, fitful gleam of the moon. Th

the superintendent; "it looks jus

I had seen in its white despair last night. Just the same cluster of hair, the same beautiful mouth and molded chin. Mother and child, I kne

should like to take those wet things

id one of the boatmen. "There is but little cha

hildren lay so warm and comfortable in their little soft

oving, motherly heart she could not think of such a crime as a mother destroying he

done with it

e work-house," said the superintend

stood f

that little child-it shall not have a pauper's funeral; it shall be buried in the beautiful gre

aid the superintendent, and

would do the same thing my

he crowd; "we ought to know whether the child

ven it was!" c

t would not be murder-not murder, but some mad, mis

n the brand of murder. If the little one had been dead

and kissed the tiny waxe

hat the child was alive w

asked the superin

ace, sir, and

thing," h

nto cold water. I see the signs of faint, baby surprise. Look at the baby brows and the l

ttle that question," s

the master of the work-house that I was a rich man-an invalid-and that I passed a great deal of my time at Brighton. In a lowered voice he added

lemen," the master said

ress to wrap it in, and with kindly thought had laid some white chrysanthemums on the little, innocent breast. Whenever I see a chrysanthemum now it brings bac