Five cents at an eating-shop where the caterer supplied himself from the hodge-podge of beggars' baskets would have given him a breakfast fit for a dog or pig, while the remaining five cents would have gone for fiery liquor to quench a burning thirst.
But another mouth had too be fed.

All at once this poor degraded man had risen to a sense of responsibility, and was practicing the virtue of self-denial.

A little child was leading him.
He had no toilette to make, no ablutions to practice.

There was neither pail nor wash-basin in his miserable kennel.

So, without any delay of preparation, he caught up the broken mug and went out, as forlorn a looking wretch as was to be seen in all that region.