At this the man stopped beating the boy, but swore at him terribly, his sightless eyes rolling and his face distorted in a frightful way.

A policeman who was not far off came now upon the scene.
"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.