But Tom, after placing his glass on the counter, retired to one corner of the room, sat himself on an empty barrel and was soon fast asleep.
It was a profound sleep, and, from time to time, the young man trembled convulsively. He opened a gaping mouth, he muttered some unintelligible words, but his "pals" noticed it not.
They were accustomed to such scenes,—the sight of man, who is no more man; an animal, lower in many respects than the brute.
The sleeper was dreaming. He dreamt that he saw the same public-house in which he now was. But, instead of being built of granite,—as it really was,—its walls were one mass of human beings, piled one on top of the other.
He could recognize some former companions who now were deceased.
Their bodies served instead of stones, and their souls he discerned, placed in lieu of windows.
Amidst the horrible mass of human flesh, he saw his father's body, crushed and terribly mangled; his face wore an expression of suffering, his whole body seemed borne down by a heavy and oppressive weight.
Tom Soher looked at his father. The latter cast a sad and troubled look at his son.
All at once, the drunken man saw himself seated upon his father's back. So this was the load that crushed him. He gazed upon his resemblance; a mere shadow of his former self.
As he contemplated this sad picture, he saw, issuing out of his mouth—his soul.