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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Frank Oldfield, by T.P. Wilson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Frank Oldfield
+       Lost and Found
+
+Author: T.P. Wilson
+
+Release Date: April 18, 2007 [EBook #21132]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANK OLDFIELD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
+
+
+
+
+Frank Oldfield, or Lost and Found
+by the Reverend T.P. Wilson, M.A., Rector of Smethcote
+
+Published by T. Nelson and Sons, London, Edinburgh and
+New York, 1872.
+
+Also by W. Tweedie, 337 Strand, London,
+and at The Office of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union,
+5 Red Lion Square, London.
+________________________________________________________________
+
+Preface
+
+The Committee of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union having offered
+prizes of One Hundred Pounds, and Fifty Pounds respectively, for the two
+best tales illustrative of Temperance in its relation to the young, the
+present tale, "Frank Oldfield," was selected from eighty-four tales as
+the one entitled to the first prize.  The second tale, "Tim Maloney,"
+was written by Miss M.A. Paull, of Plymouth, and will shortly be
+published.  Appended is the report of the adjudicators:--
+
+We the adjudicators appointed by the Committee of the United Kingdom
+Band of Hope Union, to decide upon the Prize Tales for which premiums of
+One Hundred Pounds, and Fifty Pounds, were offered by advertisement,
+hereby declare that we have selected the tale with the motto "Nothing
+extenuate, or set down aught in malice," as that entitled to the First
+Prize of One Hundred Pounds; and the tale with the motto "Hope on,
+Hope ever," as that entitled to the Second Prize of Fifty Pounds.
+
+As witness our hands, Thomas Cash, T. Geo. Rooke, B.A., John Clifford,
+M.A., Ll.B., &c.
+
+United Kingdom Band of Hope Union Office, 5 Red Lion Square, London.
+August 3, 1869.
+
+This book was well-written, and generally exciting throughout, although
+one of the early chapters was a bit lacking in action (people seated
+round the dinner-table).  The action was credible and well described.
+The whole thing rang very true, and for that reason might be read by
+someone wishing to gain more knowledge of life two-thirds of the way
+through the nineteenth century.  The Reverend Wilson writes well, and it
+would be pleasant to seek out and read other books from his pen.
+N.H. (transcriber)
+________________________________________________________________
+
+FRANK OLDFIELD, BY THE REVEREND T.P. YOUNG
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+LOST.
+
+"Have you seen anything of our Sammul?"  These words were addressed in a
+very excited voice to a tall rough-looking collier, who, with Davy-lamp
+in hand, was dressed ready for the night-shift in the Bank Pit of the
+Langhurst Colliery.  Langhurst was a populous village in the south of
+Lancashire.  The speaker was a woman, the regularity of whose features
+showed that she had once been good-looking, but from whose face every
+trace of beauty had been scorched out by intemperance.  Her hair
+uncombed, and prematurely grey, straggled out into the wind.  Her dress,
+all patches, scarcely served for decent covering; while her poor half-
+naked feet seemed rather galled than protected by the miserable slippers
+in which she clattered along the pavement, and which just revealed some
+filthy fragments of stockings.
+
+"No, Alice," was the man's reply; "I haven't seen anything of your
+Sammul."  He was turning away towards the pit, when he looked back and
+added, "I've heard that you and Thomas are for making him break his
+teetottal; have a care, Alice, have a care--you'll lose him for good and
+all if you don't mind."
+
+She made him no answer, but turning to another collier, who had lately
+come from his work, and was sauntering across the road, she repeated her
+question,--
+
+"Jim, have _you_ seen anything of our Sammul?"
+
+"No, I know nothing about him; but what's amiss, Alice? you're not
+afraid that he's slipped off to the `George'?"
+
+"The `George!' no, Jim, but I can't make it out; there must be summut
+wrong, he came home about an hour since, and stripped and washed him,
+then he goes right up into the chamber, and after a bit comes down into
+the house with his best shoes and cap on.  `Where art going, Sammul?'
+says I.  He says nothing, but crouches him down by the hearth-stone, and
+stares into the fire as if he seed summat strange there.  Then he looks
+all about him, just as if he were reckoning up the odd bits of things;
+still he says nothing.  `Sammul,' said I, `won't you take your tea,
+lad?' for it were all ready for him on the table.  Still he doesn't
+speak, but just gets up and goes to the door, and then to the hearth-
+stone, and then he claps his head on his hands as though he were
+fretting o'er summat.  `Aren't you well, Sammul?' says I.  `Quite well,
+mother,' says he, very short like.  So I just turns me round to go out,
+when he jumps up and says, `Mother:' and I could see by the tears in his
+eyes that he were very full.  `Mother,' says he again, and then he
+crouches him down again.  You wouldn't believe, how strange I felt--you
+might have knocked me down with a feather; so I just goes across to old
+Jenny's to ax her to come and look at him, for I thought he mightn't be
+right in his head.  I wasn't gone many minutes, but when I got back our
+Sammul were not there, but close by where he were sitting I seed summat
+lapped up in a piece of papper, lying on the table.  I opened it, and
+there were a five-shilling piece and a bit of his hair, and he'd writ on
+the papper, `From Sammul, for dear mother.'  Oh, what _must_ I do--what
+_must_ I do?  I shall ne'er see our Sammul any more," and the poor woman
+sobbed as if her heart would break.
+
+Before Jim had time to answer, a coarse-looking man of middle height,
+his hands thrust deep into his pockets, a pipe in his mouth, and his
+whole appearance bespeaking one who, in his best moments, was never
+thoroughly sober, strode up to the unhappy mother, and shouted out,--
+
+"What's up now? what's all this about?"
+
+"Your Sammul's run away--that's what it's about," said Jim.
+
+"Run away!" cried the other; "I'll teach him to run away--I'll break
+every bone in his body when I get him home again."
+
+"Ay, but you must catch him _first_," said Jim, drily.
+
+"Alice, what's all this?" said Johnson, for that was the father's name,
+turning fiercely on his wife.
+
+She repeated her story.  Johnson was staggered.  Samuel was a quiet lad
+of fourteen, who had borne with moderate patience many a hard word and
+harder blow from both parents.  He had worked steadily for them, even
+beyond his strength, and had seen the wages which ought to have found
+him sufficiency of food and clothing squandered in drink by both father
+and mother.  Johnson was staggered, because he knew that Samuel _could_
+have a will of his own; he had felt a force in his son's character which
+he could not thoroughly understand; he had seen at times a decision
+which showed that, boy as he was, he could break sooner than bend.
+Samuel, moreover, was an only son, and his father loved him as dearly as
+a drunkard's selfishness would let him love anything.  His very heart
+sickened at his wife's story, and not without cause.  They had but two
+children, Samuel and Betty.  Samuel worked in the pits; his sister, who
+was a year younger, was employed at the factory.  Poor children! their
+lot had been a sad one indeed.  As a neighbour said, "yon lad and wench
+of Johnson's haven't been _brought_ up, they've been _dragged_ up."  It
+was too true; half fed and worse clothed, a good constitution struggled
+up against neglect and bad usage; no prayer was ever taught them by a
+mother's lips; they never knew the wholesome stimulant of a sober
+father's smile; their scanty stock of learning had been picked up
+chiefly at a night-school; in the Sunday school they had learned to read
+their Bibles, though but imperfectly, and were never more happy than
+when singing with their companions the hymns which they had practised
+together.  They were specially dear to one another; and in one thing had
+ever been in the strictest agreement, they would never taste that drink
+which had made their own home so miserable and desolate.
+
+About a fortnight before our story opens, Langhurst had been placarded
+with bills announcing that an able and well-known total abstinence
+advocate would give an address in the parish schoolroom.  Many went to
+hear, and among them Samuel and Betty Johnson.  Young and old were urged
+to sign the pledge.  The speaker pictured powerfully a drunkard's home--
+he showed how the drink enticed its victims to their ruin like a
+cheating fiend plucking the sword of resistance from their grasp while
+it smiled upon them.  He urged the young to begin at once, to put the
+barrier of the pledge between themselves and the peculiar and subtle
+array of tempters and temptations which hedged them in on all sides.  In
+the pledge they had something to point to which could serve as an answer
+to those who could not or would not hear reason.  He showed the _joy_ of
+a home into which the drink had never found an entrance--total
+abstinence was safety--"never to taste" was "never to crave."  He
+painted the vigour of a mind unclouded from earliest years by alcoholic
+stimulants; he pointed to the blessing under God of a child's steady
+practical protest, as a Christian abstainer, against the fearful sin
+which deluged our land with misery and crime, and swept away every spark
+of joy and peace from the hearthstones of thousands of English homes.
+Every word went deep into the hearts of Samuel and his sister: the
+drunkard's home was their own, the drink was ever before their eyes, the
+daily sin and misery that it caused they knew by sharp experience--time
+after time had they been urged to take the drink by those very parents
+whose substance, whose strength, whose peace had all withered down to
+the very ground under its fatal poison.  How hard had been the struggle
+to resist! but now, if they became pledged abstainers, they would have
+something more to say which could give additional strength to their
+refusal.
+
+The speaker stood pen in hand when he had closed his address.
+
+"Come--which of you young people will sign?"
+
+Samuel made his way to the table.
+
+"I don't mind if _I_ do," he said; and then turning to Betty, when he
+had written his name, "come, Betty," he cried, "you'll sign too--come,
+stick to the pen."
+
+"Well, I might do worse, I reckon," said Betty, and she also signed.  A
+few more followed, and shortly afterwards the meeting broke up.
+
+But a storm was now brewing, which the brother and sister had not
+calculated for.  Johnson and three or four kindred spirits were sitting
+round a neighbour's fire smoking and drinking while the meeting was
+going on.  A short time after it had closed, a man thrust open the door
+of the house where Johnson was sitting, and peeping round, said with a
+grin,--
+
+"I say, Tommy Jacky," (the nickname by which Johnson was familiarly
+known), "your Sammul and Betty have just been signing Teetottal Pledge."
+
+"Eh! what do you say?" exclaimed Johnson in a furious tone, and
+springing to his feet; "signed the pledge!  I'll see about that;" and
+hurrying out of the house, he half ran half staggered to his own
+miserable dwelling.  He was tolerably sobered when he got there.  Samuel
+was sitting by the fire near his mother, who was frying some bacon for
+supper.  Betty had just thrown aside on to the couch the handkerchief
+which she had used instead of a bonnet, and was preparing to help her
+mother.  Johnson sat down in the old rickety rocking-chair at the
+opposite side of the fire to Samuel, and stooping down, unbuckled his
+clogs, which he kicked off savagely; then he looked up at his son, and
+said in a voice of suppressed passion,--
+
+"So, my lad, you've been and signed teetottal."
+
+"Yes, I have," was the reply.
+
+"And _you've_ signed too," he cried in a louder voice, turning fiercely
+upon Betty.
+
+"Ay, fayther, I have," said Betty, quietly.
+
+"Well, now," said Johnson, clenching his teeth, "you just mind _me_,
+I'll have nothing of the sort in _my_ house.  I hate your nasty, mean,
+sneaking teetottallers--we'll have none of that sort here.  D'ye hear?"
+he shouted.
+
+Neither Samuel nor Betty spoke.
+
+"Hush, hush, Tom," broke in his wife; "you mustn't scold the childer so.
+I'm no fonder nor you of the teetottallers, but childer will not be
+driven.  Come, Sammul--come, Betty, you mustn't be obstinate; you know
+fayther means what he says."
+
+"Ay that I do," said her husband.  "And now, you listen: I'd sooner see
+you both in your graves, nor have you sticking up your pledge cards
+about the house, and turning up the whites of your eyes at your own
+fayther and mother, as if we were not good enough for the likes of you.
+Me and mine have ever loved our pipe and our pot, the whole brood of us,
+and we ne'er said `no' to a chap when he asked for a drop of drink--it
+shall never be said of me or mine, `They give 'em nothing in yon house
+but tea and cold water!'"
+
+"Ay, ay; you're light, Thomas," said his wife; "I'm not for seeing our
+bairns beginning of such newfangled ways.  Come, childer, just clap the
+foolish bits of papper behind the fire, and sit ye down to your supper."
+
+"Mother," said Betty, in a sad but decided voice, "we have seen enough
+in _this_ house to make us rue that ever a drop of the drink crossed our
+door-step.  We've toiled hard early and late for you and fayther, but
+the drink has taken it all.  You may scold us if you will, but Sammul
+and I _must_ keep our pledge, and keep it gradely too."
+
+"And _I_ say," cried her father, striking his hand violently on the
+table, "I'll make you both break afore ye're a day older; ye've pleased
+yourselves long enough, but ye shall please _me_ now.  I never said
+nothing afore, though mother nor me didn't like to see ye scowling at
+the drink as if it were poison; a drop now and then would have done ye
+no harm, but ye were like to please yourselves--but it's different now.
+We'll have none of your pledges here, ye may make yourselves sure of
+that."
+
+"You can't help yourself fayther," said Samuel doggedly: "pledged we
+are, and pledged we're bound to be, but--"
+
+Before he could say more, Johnson had snatched up one of his heavy clogs
+and had hurled it at the head of his son, fortunately without striking
+him; then catching up both clogs, and hastily buckling them, he strode
+to the door, and pausing for a moment, gasped out, "I've said it, and
+I'll stick to it; ye shall both break your teetottal afore this time to-
+morrow, as I'm a living man."
+
+He was gone, and was seen no more at home that night.
+
+This scene occurred the evening before that on which our story
+commences.  We have seen that Johnson, miserable and abandoned drunkard
+as he was, was utterly staggered at the flight of his son when coupled
+with his parting gift to his mother.  Was he really gone, and gone for
+ever?  Had his own father driven him, by his cruel threats, to
+desperation, perhaps to self-destruction?  Unhappy man! he stood the
+very picture of dismay.  At last he said,--
+
+"Perhaps he mayn't have got very far.  I'll just step over, Alice, to
+your brother John's; maybe he'll have looked in there for a bit."
+
+"Ay, do, Thomas," cried his wife; "and you must just tell him that he
+mustn't heed what you said to him and Betty last night; it were only a
+bit of a breeze.  Oh, what'll our Betty say when she finds our Sammul
+gone; she _will_ fret, poor thing.  She just stepped out at the edge-o'-
+dark, [see note 1] and she'll be back again just now.  Make haste,
+Thomas, and tell the poor lad he may please himself about the
+teetottal."
+
+"Ay, ay, Alice," said poor Johnson dejectedly; "that cursed drink'll be
+the ruin of us both--body and soul," and he went on his sorrowful way.
+
+Oh, what a crowd of thoughts came crushing into the heart of the
+wretched man, as he hurried along the path which he supposed his son to
+have taken.  He thought of the day when he was married, and what a
+bright creature his Alice was then; but even over _that_ day there hung
+a cloud, for it was begun in intemperance and ended in riot.  He thought
+of the hour when he first looked on his boy, and had felt as proud as if
+no other man had ever had a bonny bairn but he.  He thought with
+shuddering self-reproach of long years of base neglect and wrong towards
+the children whose strength and peace his own words and deeds had
+smitten down as with blows of iron.  He thought of the days and years of
+utter selfishness which had drained away every drop of comfort from the
+cup which might have overflowed with domestic happiness.  He thought how
+he had ever been his own children's tempters beckoning them on towards
+hell in every hour's example; and then he thought upon the life beyond
+the grave, but recoiled with horror from that dark and lurid future, and
+shuddered back to earth again.  Oh, was there in all the world a more
+miserable wretch than he!  But on he went; anything was better than
+rest.  His road lay down a steep brow after he had passed along one
+field which separated the village from a wooded gorge.  Here all had
+once been green and beautiful in spring and summertime; but now, for
+many years past, thick clouds of smoke from coal-pit engines and iron
+furnaces had given to trees and shrubs a sickly hue.  Nature had striven
+in vain against the hot black breath of reeking chimneys.  Right down
+among the stunted trees of this ravine went the foot-track which Johnson
+followed.  Darkness had now gathered all around, yet here and there were
+wild lights struggling with the gloom.  Just on the right, where the
+path came out on to the dusty road, and a little way down a bank, a row
+of blazing coke-ovens threw a ghastly glare over the scene, casting
+fantastic shadows as their waves of fiery vapour flickered in the
+breeze.  A little farther on he passed a busy forge, from whose blinding
+light and wild uproarious mirth, mingling with the banging of the
+hammers, he was glad to escape into the darkness beyond--what would he
+not have given could he have as easily escaped from the stingings of his
+own keen remorse.  On he went, but nothing could he see of his son.  A
+mile more of rapid walking, and he reached his brother-in-law's cottage.
+
+"Eh, Thomas, is it you?" cried John's wife.  "Don't stand on the door-
+step, man, but come in."
+
+"Have you seen our Sammul?" asked Johnson, in an agitated voice.
+
+"Your Sammul? no, he hasn't been here.  But what ails you, Thomas?"  The
+other could not speak, but sinking down into a chair, buried his face in
+his hands.
+
+"Summat ails you, I'm sure," said the kind woman.
+
+"Oh, Jenny," replied the unhappy father, "our Sammul's gone off--gone
+off for good and all.  I black-guarded him last night about yon
+teetottal chap as come a-lecturing and got our Sammul and Betty to sign
+the pledge, so just about an hour since he slips out in his Sunday hat
+and shoes, when Alice were down the yard, and when she comes back she
+finds a bit of papper on the table with a five-shilling piece and a bit
+of his hair lapped up in it, and there was writ on it, `From Sammul, for
+dear mother.'  Oh, Jenny, I'm afraid for my life he's gone off to
+Americay; or, worse still, he may have drowned or hanged himself."
+
+"Nay, nay; don't say so, Thomas," said Jenny; "he'll think better of it;
+you'll see him back again in the morning.  Don't fret, man; he's a good
+lad, and he'll turn up again all right, take my word for it.  He'd ne'er
+have taken his Sunday shoes if he'd meant to drown or hang himself; he
+could have done it just as well in his clogs."
+
+But Johnson could not be comforted.
+
+"I must be going," he said.  "I guess there'll be rare crying at our
+house if Sammul's gone off for good; it'll drive Alice and our Betty
+clean crazy."
+
+With a sorrowful "good night" he stepped out again into the darkness,
+and set his face homewards.  He had not gone many paces when a sudden
+thought seemed to strike him, and he turned out of the road by which he
+had come, and crossing by a little foot-bridge a stream which ran at the
+bottom of a high bank on his right hand, climbed up some steep ground on
+the other side, and emerged into a field, from which a footpath led
+along the border of several meadows into the upper part of Langhurst.
+Here he paused and looked around him--the darkness had begun to yield to
+the pale beams of the moon.  His whole frame shook with emotion as he
+stood gazing on the trees and shrubs around him; and no wonder, for
+memory was now busy again, and brought up before him a life-like picture
+of his strolls in springtime with his boy, when Samuel was but a tiny
+lad.  'Twas in this very field, among these very trees, that he had
+gathered bluebells for him, and had filled his little hands with their
+lovely flowers.  Oh, there was something more human in him then!
+Drunkard he was, but not the wretched degraded creature into which
+intemperance had kneaded and moulded him, till it left him now stiffened
+into a walking vessel of clay, just living day by day to absorb strong
+drink.  Yet was he not even _now_ utterly hardened, for his tears fell
+like rain upon that moonlit grass--thoughts of the past made his whole
+being tremble.  He thought of what his boy had been to him; he thought
+of what he had been to his boy.  He seemed to see his past life acted
+out before him in a moving picture, and in all he saw himself a curse
+and not a blessing--time, money, health, peace, character, soul, all
+squandered.  And still the picture moved on, and passed into the future:
+he saw his utterly desolate home--no boy was there; he saw two empty
+chairs--his Betty was gone, dead of want and a broken heart.  The
+picture still moved on: now he was quite alone, the whole hearth-stone
+was his; he sat there very old and very grey, cold and hunger-bitten; a
+little while, and a pauper's funeral passed from that hearth into the
+street--it was his own--and what of his soul?  He started as if bitten
+by a serpent, and hurried on.
+
+The village was soon reached; whither should he go?  Conscience said,
+"home;" but home was desolate.  He was soon at the public-house door; he
+could meet with a rude sympathy there--he could tell his tale, he could
+cheer him with the blaze and the gas, he could stupify down his remorse
+with the drink.  Conscience again whispered, "Home," but so feebly, that
+his own footstep forward quenched its voice.  He entered, and sat down
+among the drinkers.
+
+And what of his poor wife and daughter?
+
+Johnson had not left his home many minutes when Betty came in.
+
+"Where's Sammul?" she asked, not noticing her mother's agitation; "and
+where's fayther?  We're like to have weary work in our house just now, I
+reckon."
+
+"Betty!"--was all that her mother could say, but in such a voice that
+her daughter started round and cried,--
+
+"Eh, mother, what is't? what ails you?"
+
+"See there," replied the poor woman, pointing to the little packet still
+lying on the table; "that's what ails me."
+
+Betty took it up; she saw the money and the lock of hair; she read the
+words--it was all plain to her in a moment.  She stood open-mouthed,
+with her eyes staring on the paper as one spell-bound, then she burst
+out into a bitter cry,--
+
+"Oh, mother, mother! it cannot be, it cannot be! he wouldn't leave us
+so!  Oh, Sammul, Sammul, what must we do?  It's the drink has done it--
+fayther's drink has done it!  I shall never see you, Sammul, any more!
+Mother," she suddenly added, dropping the apron which she had lifted to
+her streaming eyes, "where's fayther?  Does _he_ know?"
+
+"Yes; he knows well enough; he's off to your Uncle John's.  Oh, what
+_shall_ we do if he doesn't bring our Sammul back?  But where are you
+going, child?" for Betty had thrown her shawl over her head, and was
+moving towards the door.  "It's no use your going too; tarry by the
+hearth-stone till your fayther comes back, and then, if he hasn't heard
+anything of Sammul, we'll see what must be done."
+
+"I cannot tarry here, mother; I cannot," was Betty's reply.  "Fayther'll
+do no good; if Sammul sees him coming, he'll just step out of the road,
+or crouch him down behind summat till he's gone by.  I must go myself;
+he'll not be afraid of me.  Oh, sure he'll ne'er go right away without
+one `Good-bye' to his own sister!  Maybe he'll wait about till he sees
+me; and, please the Lord, if I can only light on him, I may bring him
+back again.  But oh, mother, mother, you and fayther mustn't do by him
+as you _have_ done! you'll snap the spring if you strain it too hard;
+you must draw our Sammul, you mustn't drive him, or maybe you'll drive
+him right away from home, if you haven't driven him now."
+
+So saying, she closed the door with a heavy heart, and took the same
+road that her father had gone before her.
+
+Slowly she walked, peering into the darkness on all sides, and fancying
+every sound to be her brother's step.  She lingered near the coke-ovens
+and the forge, thinking that he might be lurking somewhere about, and
+might see and recognise her as the fiery glow fell upon her figure.  But
+she lingered in vain.  By the time she reached her uncle's, the moon had
+fairly risen; again she lingered before entering the cottage, looking
+round with a sickening hope that he might see her from some hiding-place
+and come and speak to her, if it were but to say a last farewell.  But
+he came not.  Utterly downcast, she entered the cottage, and heard that
+her father had but lately left it, and that nothing had been seen of her
+brother.  To her aunt's earnest and repeated invitation to "tarry a
+while," she replied,--
+
+"No, Aunt Jenny; I mustn't tarry now.  I'm wanted at home; I shall be
+wanted more nor ever now.  I'm gradely [see note 1] sick at heart.  I
+know it's no use fretting, but oh, I must fret!  It were bad enough to
+be without meat, without shoes, without clothes, without almost
+everything; but it's worse nor all put together to be without our
+Sammul."
+
+She turned away, and, with a heavy sigh, took her way home again.  The
+moon was now shedding her calm light full on the path the poor girl was
+treading, leaving in dark shadow a high wooded bank on her left hand.
+Just a few feet up this bank, half-way between her uncle's house and her
+own home, was the mouth of an old disused coal-pit-shaft.  It had been
+long abandoned, and was fenced off, though not very securely, by a few
+decaying palings.  On the bank above it grew a tangled mass of shrubs,
+and one or two fine holly bushes.  Betty was just in the act of passing
+this spot when her eye fell on something that flashed in the moonbeams.
+She stooped to see what it was; then with a cry of mingled surprise and
+terror she snatched it from the ground.  It was an open pocket-knife; on
+the buck-horn handle were rudely scratched the letters SJ.  It was her
+brother's knife; there could not be a moment's question of it, for she
+had often both seen and used it.  But what was it that sent a chill like
+the chill of death through every limb, and made her totter faintly
+against the bank?  There was something trickling down the blade as she
+held it up, and, even in the moonlight, she could see that it was blood.
+A world of misery swept with a hurricane force into her heart.  Had her
+brother, driven to desperation by his father's cruelty, really destroyed
+himself?  Perhaps he had first partially done the dreadful deed with his
+knife, and then thrown himself down that old shaft, so as to complete
+the fearful work and leave no trace behind.  Poor miserable Betty! she
+groaned out a prayer for help, and then she became more calm.  Creeping
+up close to the edge of the old shaft, she looked into it as far as she
+dared; the moonlight was now full upon it; the ferns and brambles that
+interlaced across it showed no signs of recent displacement; she
+listened in an agony of earnest attention for any sound, but none came
+up from those dark and solemn depths.  Then she began to think more
+collectedly.  Hope dawned again upon her heart.  If her brother meant to
+destroy himself he would scarcely have first used the knife and then
+thrown himself down the shaft, leaving the knife behind him as a guide
+to discovery.  Besides, it seemed exceedingly improbable that he would
+have put on his best hat and shoes if bent on so speedy self-
+destruction.  She therefore abandoned this terrible thought; and yet how
+could the presence of the knife on that spot, and the blood on the
+blade, be accounted for?  She looked carefully about her--then she could
+trace evident marks of some sort of scuffle.  The bank itself near the
+old shaft was torn, and indented with footmarks.  Could it have been
+that her father had encountered Samuel here as he was returning, that
+they had had words, that words had led to blows, and that one or both
+had shed blood in the struggle?  The thought was madness.  Carefully
+concealing the knife in her clothes, she hurried home at the top of her
+speed; but before she quite reached the door, the thought suddenly smote
+full and forcibly on her heart, "If fayther _has_ killed poor Sammul,
+what will _he_ be?  A murderer!"  She grew at once desperately calm, and
+walked quietly into the house.
+
+"I haven't heard anything of our Sammul," she said sadly, and with
+forced composure.  "Where's fayther?"
+
+"I've been looking for him long since," replied her mother; "but I
+suppose he's turned into the `George.'"
+
+"The `George!'" exclaimed Betty; "what _now_! surely he cannot--"
+
+Before she could say more, Johnson himself entered.  For once in his
+life he could find no ease or content among his pot companions.  They
+pitied, it is true, the trouble which he poured into their ears, but
+their own enjoyment was uppermost in their thoughts, and they soon
+wearied of his story.  He drank, but there was bitterness in every
+draught; it did not lull, much less drown the keenness of his self-
+upbraidings; so, hastily snatching up his hat, he left the mirth and din
+of the drinkers and made his way home--ay, home--but what a home! dark
+at the best of times through his own sin, but now darker than ever.
+
+"Well?" exclaimed both Betty and her mother when he entered--they could
+say nothing more.  He understood too plainly what they meant.
+
+"Our Sammul's not been at your brother John's," he said to his wife;
+"what must we do now?  The Lord help me; I'm a miserable wretch."
+
+"Fayther," said Betty, greatly relieved, spite of her sorrow, for
+Johnson's words and manner assured her at once that he and her brother
+had not met.  "Fayther, we must hope the best.  There's a God above all,
+who knows where our Sammul is; he can take care of him, and maybe he'll
+bring him back to us again."
+
+No more was said that night.  Betty had a double portion of care and
+sorrow, but she had resolved to say nothing to any one about the knife,
+at any rate for the present.  She was satisfied that her brother had not
+laid violent hands on himself; and she trusted that, in a few days, a
+letter from himself from Liverpool or some other seaport, would clear up
+the mystery, and give them at least the sad satisfaction of knowing
+whither their Samuel was bound.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Note 1.  "Edge-o'-dark" means "Evening twilight."
+
+Note 2 "Gradely," as an adjective means "sincere," "proper," or "true;"
+as an adverb, "rightly," "truly," or "properly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+SAMUEL'S HOME.
+
+And what sort of a home was that which Samuel had so abruptly forsaken?
+"There's no place like home;" "Home is home, be it never so homely."
+Things are said to be true to a proverb; but even proverbs have their
+exceptions, and certainly no amount of allowance could justify the
+application of the above proverbs to Johnson's dwelling.  But what sort
+of a home was it?  It would be far easier to say what it was not than
+what it was.  Let us follow the owner himself as he comes in from his
+work, jaded and heart-sore, the night after Samuel's departure.
+
+The house is the worst in the row, for it is the cheapest--the tyrant
+"Drink" will not let his slave afford a better.  The front door opens
+opposite the high dead wall of another block of houses, so that very
+little daylight comes in at the sunniest of times--no loss, perhaps, as
+the sunshine would only make misery, dirt, and want more apparent.  A
+rush-bottomed chair--or rather the mutilated framework of one, the seat
+being half rotted through, and the two uppermost bars broken off with a
+jagged fracture--lies sufficiently across the entrance to throw down any
+unwary visitor.  A rickety chest of drawers--most of the knobs being
+gone and their places supplied by strings, which look like the tails of
+rats which had perished in effecting an entrance--stands tipped on one
+side against the wall, one of its legs having disappeared.  A little
+further on is a blank corner, where a clock used to be, as may be traced
+by the clusters of cobwebs in two straight lines, one up either wall,
+which have never been swept away since the clock was sold for drink.  A
+couch-chair extends under the window the whole length, but one of its
+arms is gone, and the stump which supported it thrusts up its ragged top
+to wound any hand that may incautiously rest there; the couch itself is
+but a tumbled mass of rags and straw.  A table, nearly as dilapidated,
+and foul with countless beer-stains, stands before the fire, which is
+the only cheerful thing in the house, and blazes away as if it means to
+do its best to make up for the very discouraging state of things by
+which it finds itself surrounded.  The walls of the room have been
+coloured, or rather discoloured, a dirty brown, all except the square
+portion over the fire-place, which was once adorned with a gay paper,
+but whose brilliancy has long been defaced by smoke and grease.  A
+broken pipe or two, a couple of irons, and a brass candlestick whose
+shaft leans considerably out of the perpendicular, occupy the
+mantelpiece.  An old rocking-chair and two or three common ones
+extremely infirm on their legs, complete the furniture.  The walls are
+nearly bare of ornament; the exceptions being a highly-coloured print of
+a horse-race, and a sampler worked by Betty, rendered almost invisible
+by dust.  The door into the wash-house stands ajar, and through it may
+be seen on the slop-stone a broken yellow mug; and near it a tub full of
+clothes, from which there dribbles a soapy little puddle on to the
+uneven flags, just deep enough to float an unsavoury-looking mixture of
+cheese-rinds and potato-parings.  Altogether, the appearance of the
+house is gaunt, filthy, and utterly comfortless.  Such is the drunkard's
+home.
+
+Into this miserable abode stepped Johnson the night after his son's
+disappearance, and divesting himself of his pit-clothes, threw them down
+in an untidy mass before the fire.  Having then washed himself and
+changed his dress, he sat him down for a minute or two, while his wife
+prepared the comfortless tea.  But he could not rest.  He started up
+again, and with a deep sigh turned to the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" cried his wife; "you mustn't go without your tea;
+yon chaps at the `George' don't want you."
+
+"I'm not going to the `George,'" replied Thomas; "I just want a word
+with Ned Brierley."
+
+"Ned Brierley!" exclaimed Alice; "why, he's the bigoted'st teetottaller
+in the whole village.  You're not going to sign the pledge?"
+
+"No, I'm not; but 'twould have been the making on us all if I _had_
+signed years ago;--no, I only just want a bit of talk with Ned about our
+Sammul;" and he walked out.
+
+Ned Brierley was just what Alice Johnson, and scores more too, called
+him, a bigoted teetotaller, or, as he preferred to call himself total
+abstainer.  He was bigoted; in other words, he had not taken up total
+abstinence by halves.  He neither tasted the drink himself, nor gave it
+to his friends, nor allowed it an entrance into his house.  Of course,
+therefore, he was bigoted in the eyes of those who could not or would
+not understand his principles.  But the charge of bigotry weighed very
+lightly on him; he could afford to bear it; he had a living antidote to
+the taunt daily before his eyes in a home without a cloud, an ever-
+cheerful wife, healthy, hearty, striving, loving sons and daughters.
+And, best of all, Ned was a Christian, not of the talk-much-and-do-
+little stamp, nor of the pot-political-mend-the-world stamp.  He loved
+God, and always spoke of him with a reverential smile, because his very
+name made him happy.  He had a wife, too, who loved the same gracious
+Saviour, and joined with her husband in training up their children in
+holy ways.  They knew well that they could not give their children
+grace, but they _could_ give them prayer and example, and could leave
+the rest to God in happy, loving trust.  People who talked about total
+abstinence as a sour and mopish thing, should have spent an evening at
+Ned Brierley's when the whole family was at home; why, there was more
+genuine, refreshing, innocent fun and mirth there in half an hour than
+could have been gathered in a full evening's sitting out of all the pot-
+houses in the neighbourhood put together.  Ay, there were some who knew
+this, and could say, "If you want gradely fun that leaves no
+afterthought, you must go to Ned's for it."  Of course Ned had won the
+respect even of those who abused him most, and of none more truly than
+Thomas Johnson.  Spite of all his swaggering and blustering speeches no
+man knew better than he the sterling worth of Brierley's character; no
+man was more truly convinced, down in the depths of his heart, that
+Ned's principles and practice were right.  And so now, restless and
+wretched, he was coming, he hardly knew exactly why, to ask counsel of
+this very man whom he had openly abused and ridiculed at the very time
+when he both envied and respected him.
+
+Could there possibly be a greater contrast than between the house he had
+just left and the one which he now entered?
+
+Ned Brierley's dwelling was the end house of a row, which had been
+recently built out of the united savings of himself and children.  It
+was rather larger than the rest, and had one or two out-buildings
+attached, and also a considerable piece of garden ground belonging to
+it.  In this garden Ned and his sons worked at odd times, and everything
+about it had a well-to-do air.  The neat rows of celery, the flower-beds
+shaped into various mathematical figures by shining white pebbles, the
+carefully-pruned apple trees, and the well-levelled cindered paths, all
+betokened that diligent hands were often busy there.
+
+Johnson opened the little white gate, walked up the path, and
+hesitatingly raised the latch of the house door.  What a sight met his
+eyes! it was a perfect picture.  If the three sisters, Cleanliness,
+Neatness, and Order, had been looking out for a home, they certainly
+might have found one there.  In some of the neighbours' houses, go when
+you would, you would find the inmates always cleaning, but never clean;
+it was just the reverse at Ned's, you always found them clean, and
+scarcely ever caught them cleaning.  Then, what an air of comfort there
+was about the whole place.  The arms and back of the couch-chair shone
+like mahogany, the couch itself was plump and smooth, like a living
+thing in good condition.  The walls were a bright, lively blue, but
+there was not very much to be seen of them, so covered were they with
+all sorts of family-belongings and treasures.  Against one wail stood a
+rather ambitious-looking article, half chest of drawers, half sideboard,
+the knobs of the drawers being of glass, which flashed in the bright
+fire-light as if smiling their approbation of the happy condition of
+their owners.  Over the sideboard was a large and elaborate piece of
+needlework, a perfect maze of doors and windows in green and red
+worsted, with a gigantic bird on either side preparing to alight.  This
+was the work of the eldest daughter, and purported, in words at the
+bottom, to be an accurate delineation of Solomon's Temple.  Close by
+stood a clock, tall and stately in its case, the hands of the brightest
+brass, over which appeared the moving face of a good-tempered looking
+moon.  Then, on the next wall hung two large cases, one of butterflies,
+which were arranged in patterns to represent griffins, dragons, and
+other impossible animals; the other, of well-stuffed birds, with shining
+legs and highly-coloured beaks.  Other parts of the walls were adorned
+with Scripture prints, more remarkable for brilliancy of colouring than
+correctness of costume; and in a conspicuous place, evidently the pride
+of the whole collection, was a full-length portrait of the Queen,
+smiling benignantly down on her subjects.  Below the cases of
+butterflies and birds was a piano--yes, actually, a piano--and by no
+means a bad one too.  Then, near the fire-place, was a snug little book-
+case, well furnished with books; and over the mantelpiece, in the centre
+of a warm-looking paper, was the text, in large characters, "The love of
+Christ constraineth us."  The mantelpiece itself glittered with a
+variety of brass utensils, all brightly polished.  Over the middle of
+the room, suspended by cords from the ceiling, was a framework of wood
+crossed all over by strings, on which lay, ready for consumption, a good
+store of crisp-looking oat-cakes; while, to give still further life to
+the whole, a bird-cage hung near, in which there dwelt a small colony of
+canaries.
+
+Such was the room into which Johnson timidly entered.  By the fire, in
+his solid arm-chair, sat Ned Brierley, looking supremely content, as
+well he might, considering the prospect before and around him.  On a
+large table, which was as white as scrubbing could make it, the tea
+apparatus was duly arranged.  The fire was burning its best, and sent
+out a ruddy glow, which made every bright thing it fell upon look
+brighter still.  Muffins stood in a shining pile upon the fender, and a
+corpulent teapot on the top of the oven.  Around the table sat two young
+men of about the ages of nineteen and twenty, and three daughters who
+might range from eighteen to fifteen.  Their mother was by the fire
+preparing the tea for her husband and children, who had all lately come
+in from their work.
+
+"Why, Johnson, is that you?" exclaimed Ned Brierley; "come in, man, and
+sit ye down.--Reach him a chair, Esther," he said to his youngest
+daughter.
+
+"Well, Ned," said Johnson, sitting down, and drawing back his chair as
+near the door as he could, "I thought, maybe, you could give me a bit of
+advice about our Sammul.  I suppose you've heard how he went off
+yesternight."
+
+"Ay, Thomas, we've heard all about it.  I'm gradely sorry too; but you
+mustn't lose heart, man: the Lord'll bring him back again; he's a good
+lad."
+
+"He _is_ a good lad," said Johnson; "and I've been and driven him away
+from his home.  That cursed drink has swept him away, as it's swept
+almost everything good out of our house.  It'll do for us all afore
+we've done with it; and the sooner it's the death of me the better."
+
+"Nay, nay, Thomas, you mustn't say so," cried the other; "it's not
+right.  God has spared you for summat better; turn over a new leaf, man,
+at once.  He'll give you strength for it if you'll ask him.  Come now,
+draw your chair to the table, and have a cup of tea and a bit of muffin;
+it'll do you good."
+
+"Ned," said Thomas, sadly, "I can't take meat nor drink in your house.
+I've abused you behind your back scores of times, and I can't for shame
+take it."
+
+"Nay, nay, man; never heed what you've said against me.  You see you've
+done me no harm.  I'm none the worse for all that folks can say against
+me; so draw up your chair, you're gradely welcome to your tea."
+
+"Ay, do," chimed in his wife; "doesn't Scripture say, `If thine enemy
+hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink:' and I'm sure you must
+be both hungry and thirsty if you haven't tasted since you came from the
+pit."
+
+Poor Johnson could not speak.  When he was sober he was a feeling man,
+and a sensible one too.  Alas! his sober times were few, but he _was_
+sober now.  The tears overflowed his eyes, and he brushed them hastily
+away as he drew his chair near to the bright little circle of happy
+healthy faces.  He ate and drank for a while in silence, and then said
+with a faltering voice,--
+
+"Ned, you're a true Christian.  I'll never say a word against you behind
+your back any more."
+
+Brierley held out his hand to him, and the other grasped it warmly.
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Ned, in a cheery voice, "I'd give a good
+deal, Thomas, to see you a total abstainer; it'd be the making of you."
+
+Johnson shook his head sorrowfully.
+
+"I mustn't; Alice wouldn't let me.  I can't; the drink's more to me nor
+meat, and clothes, and everything.  I durstn't, for my old pals at the
+`George' would chaff me to death with their jeers and their jokes.  I
+couldn't face them for shame."
+
+"Oh, Thomas," cried Ned, "what a slave the drink's made of you:--
+mustn't! can't! durstn't!--what! ain't you a man? haven't you got a will
+of your own?"
+
+"No, Ned, that's just it; I haven't a will of my own: the old lad's got
+it off me long since."
+
+"Ay, but, Thomas, you must get it back again," exclaimed Brierley's
+wife; "you must go to Jesus, and he'll help you."
+
+Johnson fidgeted uneasily in his chair; at last he said,--
+
+"I can't do without my beer; I haven't strength to work without it."
+
+"You've taken plenty of it, I reckon," remarked Ned, "and you don't seem
+to thrive much on't."
+
+"I've taken too much," said the other, "but I can't do without a
+little."
+
+"You can't do _with_ a little, I fear.  It's first only a pint, and then
+it's only a quart, and then it's only a gallon, till at last it's only a
+fuddled head and an empty pocket.  Come, join us, Thomas; take the first
+step boldly like a man, and then just pray for grace, and you'll not
+fear what other folks can do to you."
+
+"But I shall never get through my work without a drop of beer to wash
+dust out of my throat and spirit me up," persisted Johnson.  "I feel
+like another sort of man when I've had my pint."
+
+"Yes, just for a bit," replied Ned.  "Now it seems to me just the same
+as what we might do with our fire.  I bid our Esther look to the fire,
+so she goes and sticks to the poker, and each now and then she pokes
+away at the fire, and the fire blazes up and blazes up, but very soon
+there's nothing left to blaze with.  The fire'll be out directly, so I
+says to our Mary, _you_ look after the fire, so our Mary goes to the
+heap and fetches a shovel of coal, and claps it on the top of the hot
+cinders, and she won't let our Esther poke it no more, so it burns
+steady and bright, and throws out a good heat, and lasts a long time.
+Now, when you take your drop of beer, you're just poking the fire,
+you're not putting any coal on; you can work like a lion for a bit, but
+you're only using up the old stock of strength faster and faster, you're
+not putting on any new.  I've helped you to put a little gradely coal on
+to-night, and I hope it won't be the last time by many."
+
+"Father," broke in Esther, laughing, and highly entertained at the part
+she bore in her father's illustration, "when you tell your tale again,
+you must make our Mary stick to the poker, and me clap the coal on."
+
+"Ay, ay, child," said her father, "you shall each take it in turn."
+
+"Well, you may be right," sighed Johnson; "but Jack Barnes says as he's
+knowed scores of teetottallers that's wasted away to skin and bone for
+want of the drink; he says beer strengthens the bone, and makes the
+muscles tight and firm."
+
+"Jack Barnes may say what he likes, but I'll just ask you, Thomas, to
+think and judge for yourself.  You see me and mine; you see seven total
+abstainers here to-night.  Not one of these childer knows the taste of
+the drink; they work hard, you know, some in the pit, some in the mill:
+do _they_ look nothing but skin and bone?  Where'll you find healthier
+childer?  I'm not boasting, for it's the good Lord that's given 'em
+health, yes, and strength too, without the drink."
+
+"Ay, and just look at Jack Barnes's own lads, and the company they
+keep," said John, the eldest son; "you may see them all at the four lane
+ends, [Note 1], any Sunday morn, with their pigeons, looking more like
+scarecrows than Christians; and afore night they'll be so weary that
+they'll scarce know how to bide anywhere.  They'll be lounging about,
+looking as limp as a strap out of gear, till they've got the ale in
+them, and then they're all for swearing and shouting up and down the
+lanes."
+
+"I can't deny," said Johnson, "that you teetottallers have the best of
+it in many ways.  It's a bad bringing-up for childer to see such goings-
+on as is in Barnes's house."
+
+"And, Thomas," said Brierley's wife, "you know how it is with Joe
+Taylor's lads and wenches.  There's a big family on 'em.  They're not
+short of brass in that house, or shouldn't be.  There's drink enough and
+to spare goes down their throats, and yet there's not one of the whole
+lot but's as lean as an empty bobbin, and as white as a heap of cotton.
+They're nearly starved to death afore reckoning-day comes; and with all
+their good wage they cannot make things reach and tie."
+
+"Well, I must wish you good night now," said Johnson, rising to go.  "I
+suppose I can do nothing about our Sammul but have patience."
+
+"Yes, pray for patience, Thomas; and pray to be shown the right way: and
+give up the drink, man--ay, give it up at once, for Betty's sake, for
+Alice's sake, and for your own soul's sake."
+
+"I'll try, I'll try; good night."
+
+"Good night."
+
+Johnson walked homewards sorrowful but calm.  Should he take the pledge?
+should he boldly break his chains, and brave the scorn of his ungodly
+companions?  He felt that he ought.  He murmured a half prayer that he
+might have strength to do it.  He reached his own home; he entered--what
+did, he see?
+
+Round the fire, slatternly and dirty, with hair uncombed, dress
+disordered, shoes down at heel, lolling, lounging, stooping in various
+attitudes, were some half-dozen women, Alice being nearest the fire on
+one side.  Most of them had pipes in their mouths.  On the table were
+cups and saucers, a loaf and some butter, and also a jug, which
+certainly did not hold milk; its contents, however, were very popular,
+as it was seldom allowed to rest on the table, while the strong odour of
+rum which filled the room showed pretty plainly that it had been filled
+at the public-house and not at the farm.  Every eye was flashing, and
+every tongue in full exercise, when Johnson entered.
+
+"Well, Thomas," said his wife, "I thought you were down at the `George.'
+Our Betty's not so well, so she's gone up into the chamber to lay her
+down a bit; and I've just been axing a neighbour or two to come in and
+have a bit of a talk over our Sammul.  Come, sit you down, and take a
+cup of tea, and here's summat to put in it as'll cheer you up."
+
+"I've just had my tea at Ned Brierley's," replied her husband; "I don't
+want no more."
+
+"Ah, but you must just take one cup.  Reach me the jug, Molly.  You look
+as down as if you'd seen a boggart; [see note 2], you must drink a drop
+and keep your spirits up."
+
+He made no reply, but threw himself back on the couch, and drew his cap
+over his eyes.  Seeing that he was not likely to go out again, the women
+dropped off one by one, and left him alone with his wife, who sat
+looking into the fire, comforting herself partly with her pipe and
+partly with frequent applications to the jug.  After a while Thomas rose
+from the couch, and took his seat by the fire opposite to her.  There
+was a long pause; at last he broke it by saying,--
+
+"Alice."
+
+"Well, Thomas."
+
+"Alice, you know I have been up at Ned's.  Ned's a quiet, civil man, and
+a gradely Christian too.  I wish our house had been like his; we
+shouldn't have lost our Sammul then."
+
+"Well, my word! what's come over you, Thomas?  Why, sure you're not a-
+going to be talked over by yon Brierley folk!" exclaimed his wife.
+"Why, they're so proud, they can't look down upon their own shoes: and
+as for Brierley's wenches, if a fellow offers to speak to 'em, they'll
+snap his head off.  And Martha herself's so fine that the likes of me's
+afraid to walk on the same side of the road for fear of treading on her
+shadow."
+
+"Well, Alice, I've oft abused 'em all myself; but I were wrong all the
+time.  And you're wrong, Alice, too.  They've never done us no harm, and
+we've nothing gradely to say against 'em; and you know it too.  They've
+toiled hard for their brass, and they haven't made it away as _we_ have
+done; and if they're well off, it's no more nor they deserve."
+
+"Not made away their brass!  No, indeed!" said his wife, contemptuously,
+"no danger of that; they'll fist it close enough.  They like it too well
+to part with it.  They'll never spend a ha'penny to give a poor chap a
+drop of beer, though he's dying of thirst."
+
+"No, 'cos they've seen what a curse the drink has been to scores and
+hundreds on us.  Ah, Alice, if you had but seen the happy faces gathered
+round Ned's hearth-stone; if you had but heard Ned's hearty welcome--
+though he can't but know that I've ever been the first to give him and
+his a bad word--you couldn't say as you're saying now."
+
+"Come, Thomas," said his wife, "don't be a fool.  If Ned Brierley likes
+his teetottal ways, and brings up his lads and wenches same fashion, let
+him please himself; but he mustn't make teetottallers of you nor me."
+
+"And why shouldn't he make a teetottaller of me?" cried Thomas, his
+anger rising at his wife's opposition.  "What has the drink done for us,
+I'd like to know?  What's it done with my wage, with our Betty's wage,
+with our poor Sammul's wage?  Why, it's just swallowed all up, and paid
+us back in dirt and rags.  Where's there such a beggarly house as this
+in all the village?  Why haven't we clothes to our backs and shoes to
+our feet?  It's because the drink has took all."
+
+"It's not the drink," screamed Alice, her eyes flashing with rage.
+"You've nothing to blame the drink for; the drink's right enough.  It's
+yourself; it's your own fault.  You haven't any conduct in your drink
+like other folk.  You must sit sotting at the `George' till you can't
+tell your hand from your foot; and then you must come home and
+blackguard me and the childer, and turn the house out of the windows.
+You've driven our Sammul out of the country; and you'll be the death of
+our Betty, and of me too, afore you've done."
+
+"Death of you!" shouted her husband, in a voice as loud as her own.
+"And what odds then?  No conduct in _my_ drink!  And what have _you_ had
+in yourn?  What's there to make a man tarry by the hearth-stone in such
+a house as this, where there's nothing to look at but waste and want?  I
+wish every drop of the drink were in the flames with this."  So saying,
+he seized the jug, threw the little that was left of the spirits in it
+into the fire, and, without stopping to listen to the torrent of abuse
+which poured from the lips of his wife, hurried out of the house.  And
+whither did he go?  Where strong habit led him, almost without his being
+conscious of it--he was soon within the doors of the "George."  By this
+time his anger had cooled down, and he sat back from the rest of the
+company on an empty bench.  The landlord's eye soon spied him.
+
+"What are you for to-night, Thomas?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know," said Johnson, moodily; "I'm better with nothing, I
+think."
+
+"No, no," said the other; "you're none of that sort.  You look very
+down; a pint of ale'll be just the very thing to set you right."
+
+Johnson took the ale.
+
+"Didn't I see you coming out of Ned Brierley's?" asked one of the
+drinkers.
+
+"Well, and what then?" asked Johnson, fiercely.
+
+"Oh, nothing; only I thought, maybe, that you were for coming out in the
+teetottal line.  Ay, wouldn't that be a rare game?"
+
+A roar of laughter followed this speech.  But Johnson's blood was up.
+
+"And why shouldn't I join the teetottallers if I've a mind?" he cried.
+"I don't see what good the drink's done to me nor mine.  And as for Ned
+Brierley, he's a gradely Christian.  I've given him nothing afore but
+foul words; but I'll give him no more."
+
+A fresh burst of merriment followed these words.
+
+"Eh, see," cried one, "here's the parson come among us."
+
+"He'll be getting his blue coat with brass buttons out of the pop-shop
+just now," cried another; "and he'll hold his head so high that he won't
+look at us wicked sinners."
+
+A third came up to him with a mock serious air, and eyeing him with his
+head on one side, said,--
+
+"They call you Thomas, I reckon.  Ah, well, now you're going to be one
+of Ned's childer, we must take you to the parson and get him to christen
+you Jonadab."
+
+Poor Johnson! he started up, for one moment he meditated a fierce rush
+at his persecutors, the next, he turned round, darted from the public-
+house, and hurried away he knew not whither.
+
+And what will he do?  Poor man--wretched, degraded drunkard as he had
+been--he was by natural character a man of remarkable energy and
+decision; what he had fairly and fully determined upon, his resolution
+grasped like a vice.  Brought up in constant contact with drunkenness
+from his earliest years, and having imbibed a taste for strong drink
+from his childhood, that taste had grown with his growth, and he had
+never cared to summon resolution or seek strength to break through his
+miserable and debasing habit.  Married to a woman who rather rejoiced to
+see her husband moderately intoxicated, because it made him good-
+natured, he had found nothing in his home, except its growing misery, to
+induce him to tread a better path.  True, he could not but be aware of
+the wretchedness which his sin and that of his wife had brought upon him
+and his; yet, hitherto, he had never seen _himself_ to be the chief
+cause of all this unhappiness.  He blamed his work, he blamed his
+thirst, he blamed his wife, he blamed his children, he blamed his dreary
+comfortless home--every one, everything but himself.  But now light had
+begun to dawn upon him, though as yet it had struggled in only through a
+few chinks.  God had made a partial entrance for it through his remorse
+at the loss of his son; that entrance had been widened by his visit to
+Ned Brierley, yet he was still in much darkness; his light showed him
+evil and sin in great mis-shapen terrible masses, but was not so far
+sufficiently bright to let him see anything in clear sharp outline.  A
+great resolve was growing, but it needed more hammering into form, it
+wanted more prayer to bring it up to the measure of a Christian duty.
+
+And here we must leave him for the present, and pass to other and very
+different scenes and characters essential to the development of our
+story.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Note 1.  "Four lane ends," a place where four roads meet.
+
+Note 2.  "Hoggart", a ghost.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+THE RECTORY.
+
+The Reverend Bernard Oliphant, rector of Waterland, was a man of good
+family and moderate fortune.  At the time when this tale opens he had
+held the living eighteen years.  He had three sons and one daughter.
+The eldest son, Hubert, was just three-and-twenty, and, having finished
+his course at Oxford with credit, was spending a year or two at home
+previously to joining an uncle in South Australia, Abraham Oliphant, his
+father's brother, who was living in great prosperity as a merchant at
+Adelaide.  Hubert had not felt himself called on to enter the ministry,
+though his parents would have greatly rejoiced had he seen his way clear
+to engage in that sacred calling.  But the young man abhorred the
+thought of undertaking such an office unless he could feel decidedly
+that the highest and holiest motives were guiding him to it, and neither
+father nor mother dared urge their son to take on himself, from any
+desire to please them, so awful a responsibility.  Yet none the less for
+this did Hubert love his Saviour, nor did he wish to decline his
+service, or shrink from bearing that cross which is laid on all who make
+a bold and manly profession of faith in Christ Jesus.  But he felt that
+there were some who might serve their heavenly Master better as laymen
+than as ministers of the gospel, and he believed himself to be such a
+one.  His two younger brothers, not feeling the same difficulties, were
+both preparing for the ministry.  Hubert had a passionate desire to
+travel; his parents saw this, and wisely judged that it would be better
+to guide his passion than to combat it; so, when his uncle proposed to
+Hubert to join him in Australia, they gave their full consent.  They
+knew that a strong expression of dissuasion on their part would have led
+him to abandon the scheme at once; but they would not let any such
+expression escape them, because they felt that they were bound to
+consult _his_ tastes and wishes, and not merely their own.  They knew
+that his faith was on the Rock of Ages; they could trust his life and
+fortunes to their God.  For Bernard Oliphant and his wife had but one
+great object set before them, and that was to work for God.  The rector
+was warm and impulsive, the fire would flash out upon the surface, yet
+was it under the control of grace; it blazed, it warmed, but never
+scorched, unless when it crossed the path of high-handed and determined
+sin.  _She_ was all calmness and quiet decision; yet in _her_ character
+there ran a fire beneath the surface, sending up a glow into every
+loving word and deed.  She had never been beautiful, yet always
+beautified by the radiance of true holiness.  In her, seriousness had no
+gloom, because it was the seriousness of a holy love.  She made even
+worldly people happy to be with her, because they felt the reality and
+singleness of her religion--it was woven up with every hour's work, with
+every duty, with every joy.  She lived for heaven not by neglecting
+earth, but by making earth the road to heaven.  Her religion was pre-
+eminently practical, while it was deeply spiritual; in fact, it was the
+religion of sanctified common sense.  The true grace of her character
+gained the admiration which she never sought.  As some simple unadorned
+column rising in the midst of richly-carved sculptures arrests attention
+by its mere dignity of height and grace of perfect proportion, so in the
+unassuming wife of Bernard Oliphant there was a loftiness and symmetry
+of character which made people feel that in her was the true beauty of
+holiness.
+
+And the children trod in the steps of their parents.  Mary Oliphant was
+the youngest; she was now just eighteen--slight in make, and graceful in
+every movement.  Her perfect absence of self-consciousness gave a
+peculiar charm to all that she said and did; she never aimed at effect,
+and therefore always produced it.  You could not look into her face
+without feeling that to her indifference and half-heartedness were
+impossible things; and the abiding peace which a true faith in Christ
+alone can give, was on those lovely features in their stillness.  Such
+was the family of the Reverend Bernard Oliphant.
+
+Waterland was a rural parish in one of the midland counties.  The
+rectory stood near one end of the village, which was like a great many
+other country villages.  There were farm-houses, with their stack-yards
+and clusters of out-buildings, with their yew-trees and apple-orchards.
+Cottages, with low bulging white-washed walls and thatched roofs, were
+interspersed among others of a more spruce and modern build, with slated
+roofs, and neat little gardens.  Then there were two or three shops
+which sold all things likely to be wanted in everyday village life,
+eatables and wearables nestling together in strange companionship; and,
+besides these, were houses which would not have been known to be shops,
+but for a faded array of peppermints and gingerbread, which shone, or
+rather twinkled, before the eyes of village children through panes of
+greenish glass.  Of course there was a forge and a wheel-wright's shop;
+and, equally of course, a public-house--there had been two, there was
+now but one, which could readily be known by a huge swinging sign-board,
+on which was the decaying likeness of a "Dun Cow," supposed to be
+feeding in a green meadow; but the verdure had long since melted away,
+and all except the animal herself was a chaos of muddy tints.  The "Dun
+Cow," (a sad misnomer for a place where milk was the last beverage the
+visitors would ever think of calling for), was to many the centre both
+of attraction and detraction, for here quarrels were hatched and
+characters picked to pieces.  The landlord had long since been dead, of
+the usual publican's malady--drink fever.  The landlady carried on the
+business which had carried her husband off, and seemed to thrive upon
+it, for there was never lack of custom at the "Dun Cow."  Just a
+stone's-throw from this public-house, on the crest of the hill along
+which wound the village street, was the church, a simple structure, with
+a substantial square tower and wide porch.  It had been restored with
+considerable care and taste by the present rector, the internal
+appearance being sufficiently in accordance with the proprieties of
+ecclesiastical architecture to satisfy all but the over-fastidious, and
+yet not so ornamental as to lead the mind to dwell rather on the earthly
+and sensuous than on the heavenly and spiritual.  Behind the church was
+the rectory, a quaint old building, with pointed gables, deep bay-
+windows, and black beams of oak exposed to view.  It had been added to,
+here and there, as modern wants and improvements had made expansion
+necessary.  The garden was lovely, for every one at the rectory loved
+flowers: they loved them for their own intrinsic beauty; they loved them
+as God's books, full of lessons of his skill and tender care; they loved
+them as resting-places for the eye when wearied with sights of disorder
+and sin; they loved them as ministering comfort to the sick, the aged,
+and the sorrowful to whom they carried them.
+
+Such was the village of Waterland.  The parish extended two miles north
+and south of the church, a few farms and labourers' cottages at wide
+intervals containing nearly all the rest of the population that was not
+resident in the village.
+
+It has been said that there were once two public-houses in Waterland,
+but that now there was but one.  This was not owing to any want of
+success in the case of the one which had become extinct; on the
+contrary, the "Oldfield Arms" had been the more flourishing
+establishment of the two, and was situated in the centre of the village.
+Its sign, however, had long since disappeared; and it was now in the
+hands of the rector, its principal apartment having been transformed
+into a reading-room, and place for holding meetings.  And how was this
+brought about?  Simply thus.  When Bernard Oliphant first came to
+Waterland, he found the "Oldfield Arms" doing a most excellent business;
+so far as _that_ can be an excellent business which builds the
+prosperity of one upon the ruin of hundreds.  People grumbled at the
+lowness of wages; wives were unable to procure money from their husbands
+for decent dress; children were half-starved and two-thirds naked;
+disease and dirt found a home almost everywhere; boys and girls grew up
+in ignorance, for their parents could not afford to send them to school;
+the men had no tidy clothes in which to appear at church.  Yet, somehow
+or other, the "Oldfield Arms" was never short of customers; and
+customers, too, who paid, and paid well, sooner or later, for what they
+consumed.  So the rector went among the people, and told them plainly of
+the sin of drunkenness, and pointed out the misery it brought, as their
+own eyes could see.  They confessed the truth--such as he could manage
+to get hold of--and drank on as before.  He was getting heart-sick and
+miserable.  Preach as he might--and he did preach the truth with all
+faithfulness and love--the notices of ale, porter, and spirits, set up
+in flaming colours in the windows and on the walls of the "Oldfield
+Arms," preached far more persuasively in the cause of intemperance.
+
+One day he came upon a knot of men standing just at the entrance of the
+yard that led to the tap-room.  They were none of them exactly drunk;
+and certainly none were exactly sober.  There were some among them whom
+he never saw at church, and never found at home.  He was grieved to see
+these men in high discussion and dispute, when they ought to have been
+busily engaged in some lawful calling.  He stopped, and taking one of
+them aside whose home was specially miserable, he said,--
+
+"James, I'm grieved to see you here, when I know how sadly your poor
+wife and children are in need of food and clothing."
+
+The man looked half angry, half ashamed, but hung down his head, and
+made no reply.  The rest were moving off.
+
+"Nay, my friends," said the rector, kindly, "don't go.  I just want a
+word with you all.  I want to say a few words of love and warning to
+you, as your clergyman.  God has sent me here to teach and guide you;
+and oh, do listen to me now."
+
+They all stood still, and looked at him respectfully.  He went on:--
+
+"Don't you see that drinking habits are bringing misery into the homes
+of the people in our parish--ay, into your own homes?  You must see it.
+You must see how drunkenness stores up misery for you here and
+hereafter.  What will become of you when you die, if you go on as you
+are doing now?  What will become of your families?  What will--"
+
+At this moment there was a loud shout of "Hoy! hoy!" from the lips of a
+carter who was coming with a brewer's dray out of the inn-yard.  The man
+had just been depositing several full casks, and was now returning with
+the empty ones.  He did not see the rector at first; but when the group
+made way for him, and his eyes fell on Mr Oliphant, he touched his hat
+as he was passing, and said,--
+
+"I beg pardon, sir; I did not know as you was there."  Then suddenly
+pulling up his horse, he added-- "Oh, if you please, sir, master bid me
+say he's very sorry he hasn't any of the ale you've been drinking ready
+just now, but he hopes you'll let me leave this barrel of stout, it's in
+prime order, he says."
+
+"Very well," replied Mr Oliphant; "you may leave it."
+
+Then he turned again to the men: they were moving off.  He would have
+taken up his earnest appeal where he left it; but somehow or other he
+felt a difficulty in speaking, and the deep attention was evidently gone
+from his hearers.  He hesitated.  They were already dispersing: should
+he call them back?  He felt as if he could not.  He turned sadly towards
+home, deeply vexed and chafed in his spirit.  He blamed the ill-timed
+interruption of the carter; and yet he felt that there was something
+else lurking in the background with which he felt dissatisfied--
+something which wanted dragging out into the light.
+
+"And yet it's so foolish!" he said to himself, as he walked slowly up
+the street.  "My drinking in moderation has nothing in common with their
+drinking immoderately.  Why should my use of intoxicating liquors fetter
+me in dissuading these poor creatures from their abuse?  They ought to
+see the difference."  Then a voice, deeper in the heart, whispered--
+"They ought; but they do not, and their souls are perishing.  They are
+your people: you must deal with them as they are, not as they ought to
+be."
+
+That night the rector's sleep was very troubled.
+
+It was about a week later that he was again near the "Oldfield Arms,"
+when a spruce-looking man--his wine-merchant's agent--came out of the
+inn door, and walked up the street.  Two men were standing with their
+backs to the rector just outside the yard.  He was about to pass on;
+when he heard one say,--
+
+"What a sight of wine some of them parsons drink!  Yon fine gent
+couldn't afford all them gold chains and pins if it warn't for the
+parsons."
+
+"Ay," said the other, "it's the parsons as knows good wine from bad.  I
+heerd yon chap say only this morning: `Our very best customers is the
+clergy.'"
+
+"Well," rejoined the other, "I shouldn't mind if they'd only leave us
+poor fellows alone, and let us get drunk when we've a mind.  But it do
+seem a little hard that _they_ may get drunk on their wine, but we
+mustn't get drunk on our beer."
+
+"Oh, but you know, Bill," said the other, "this here's the difference.
+When they get drunk, it's genteel drunk, and there's no sin in that; but
+when we poor fellows get drunk, it's wulgar drunk, and that's awful
+wicked."
+
+Bernard Oliphant was deeply pained; he shrank within himself.
+
+"It's a cruel libel and a coarse slander," he muttered, and hastened on
+his way.  "Am _I_ answerable," he asked himself, "for the abuse which
+others may make of what I take moderately and innocently?  Absurd!  And
+yet it's a pity, a grievous pity, that it should be possible for such
+poor ignorant creatures to speak thus of any of our holy calling, and so
+to justify themselves in sin."
+
+Yes, he felt it to be so, and it preyed upon his mind more and more.  He
+mentioned what he had heard to his wife.
+
+"Dear Bernard," she replied, "I have thought a great deal lately on this
+subject, especially since you told me about your speaking to those men
+when you were interrupted by the drayman.  I have prayed that you and I
+might be directed aright; and we _shall_ be.  But do not let us be
+hasty.  It does seem as though we were being called on to give up, for
+the sake of others, what does us personally no harm.  But perhaps we may
+be wrong in this view.  A great many excellent Christians, and ministers
+too, are moderate drinkers, and never exceed; and we must not be carried
+away by a mistaken enthusiasm to brand their use of fermented drinks as
+sinful because such frightful evils are daily resulting from immoderate
+drinking.  We must think and pray, and our path will be made plain; and
+we must be prepared to walk in it, cost what it may."
+
+"Yes," said her husband; "I am getting more and more convinced that
+there is something exceptional in this matter--that we cannot deal with
+this sin of drunkenness as we deal with other sins.  But we will wait a
+little longer for guidance; yet not too long, for souls are perishing,
+and ruin is thickening all round us."
+
+They had not to wait long; their path was soon made clear.
+
+It was on a bitter and cheerless November evening that Mr Oliphant was
+returning to the rectory from a distant part of his parish.  He was
+warmly clad; but the keen wind, which drove a prickly deluge of fine
+hail into his face, seemed to make its way through every covering into
+his very bones.  He was hurrying on, thankful that home was so near,
+when he suddenly stumbled upon something in the path which he had not
+noticed, being half blinded by the frozen sleet.  With difficulty he
+saved himself from falling over this obstacle, which looked in the
+feeble moonlight like a bundle of ragged clothes.  Then he stooped down
+to examine it more closely, and was horrified at hearing a low moan,
+which showed that it was a living creature that lay on the path.  It was
+plainly, in fact, some poor, half-frozen fellow-man, who lay coiled
+together there, perishing of cold in that bitter night.  The rector
+tried to raise the poor wretch from the ground, but the body hung like a
+dead weight upon him.
+
+"Come," he said, "my poor fellow; come, try and rouse yourself and get
+up.  You'll die if you lie here."
+
+The miserable bundle of humanity partly uncoiled itself, and made an
+effort to rise, but sunk back again.  Mr Oliphant shouted for help.
+The shout seemed partly to revive the prostrate creature, and he half
+raised himself.
+
+"Come," said the rector again,-- "come, lean on my arm, and try and get
+up.  You'll die of cold if you stay here."
+
+"Die!" said a thick, unearthly voice from out of that half-frozen mass
+of flesh and blood.  "In Adam all die."
+
+"Who and what are you?" cried the rector, in extreme astonishment and
+distress.
+
+"What am I?  Ah, what am I?" was the bewildered, scarce audible reply.
+
+By this time help had arrived.  Two men came up, and assisted Mr
+Oliphant to raise the poor man, and support him to the "Oldfield Arms,"
+where he was immediately put to bed; one of the men being sent off by
+the rector to fetch the nearest medical man, while he himself gave
+orders that everything should be done to restore the unhappy sufferer to
+warmth and consciousness.
+
+"Please, Mrs Barnes," said he to the landlady, "be so good as to send
+up to the rectory, and let me know, when the doctor comes, if he says
+that there is any danger.  If his report is favourable, I will leave a
+night's rest to do its work, and will look in again early to-morrow.
+And pray let the poor man have everything that he needs, and send up to
+the rectory if you are short of anything."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Mrs Barnes.  "I will see that he is properly
+looked to."
+
+The rector then went home, and in another hour received a message from
+the inn that the doctor had been, and that there was no danger of any
+immediately fatal result; that he would call again on his patient the
+following morning, and should be glad to meet the rector at the inn.
+
+Accordingly, the following day at the appointed hour Bernard and the
+doctor went up together into the sick man's room.  As they opened the
+door they were astonished to hear the patient declaiming in a loud
+voice,--
+
+"If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is
+not in us."
+
+Bernard's heart grew sick.  Could it be?  Could this miserable creature
+be one of his own profession?  Were these words the ramblings of one who
+had been used to officiate as a Church minister?  And, if so, what could
+have brought him to such a state of utter destitution?  The doctor
+seemed to read his thoughts, and shook his head sadly.  Then, putting
+his mouth to his ear, he said,--
+
+"It's the drink; the smell of spirits is still strong on him."
+
+"Poor wretched creature!" said Mr Oliphant.  "Can it be that the love
+of drink has brought a man of position and education to such a state as
+this?  What can be done for him?"
+
+"Not much at present," was the reply, "beyond keeping him quiet, and
+nursing him well till the fever has run its course.  And one thing is
+clear--we must keep all intoxicants from him.  They are downright poison
+to a man of his constitution; and should he get hold of any spirits
+before his health is thoroughly established again, I would not answer
+for his life."
+
+The rector called Mrs Barnes, and told her what the doctor had said,
+adding,--
+
+"You must find a trustworthy nurse for him--one who will strictly attend
+to the doctor's orders."
+
+The landlady promised she would do so; and the rector left the sick-
+chamber with a sorrowful look and troubled heart.
+
+In ten days' time the patient was well enough to sit up in bed and
+converse with Mr Oliphant.
+
+"My poor friend," said the rector, "I grieve to see you in your present
+state, especially as I cannot but perceive that you have seen better
+days, and moved among people of education.  However, there is great
+cause to thank God that he has so far spared your life."
+
+A deep flush overspread the sick man's face as he replied,--
+
+"Yes, indeed, I owe you, my dear sir, a debt of gratitude I can never
+repay.  You say the truth--I _have_ seen better days.  I was sought
+after in good society once, little as you might think it."
+
+"I can believe it," said the rector, quietly.  "But do not distress
+yourself by referring to the past, if it gives you pain."
+
+"As to that," replied the other, "it matters to me little now what I
+once was; but it may interest you to know, and may serve as a warning.
+I was a popular preacher once.  I was an ordained minister of the Church
+of England.  Crowds flocked to my church.  I threw all my energies into
+my preaching.  I was a free man then; at least I believed myself so.
+While I proclaimed the love of God to sinners, I also preached
+vehemently against sin.  I never felt myself more at home than when I
+was painting the miserable bondage of those whom Satan held in his
+chains.  I could speak with withering scorn of such as made a profession
+while they were living in any known wickedness.  I was specially severe
+upon the drunkard's sin.  But preaching such as mine, and in a large
+church, was very exhausting.  I found that I wanted support; so I began
+with an egg beaten up with brandy, and took it just before going into
+the pulpit.  This made me doubly fervent; some of my hearers thought me
+almost inspired.  But the exhaustion was terrible at the end; so I added
+another glass of egg and spirits after the sermon.  Then I found that,
+somehow or other, I could not preach in the evening after taking much
+solid food; so I substituted liquids for solids, and lived on Sundays
+almost entirely on malt liquors and spirits.  When these failed to keep
+me up to the mark, I had to increase the quantity.  At last I saw that
+my churchwarden began to look a little strangely and suspiciously at me;
+ugly sayings reached my ears; the congregation began to thin.  At last I
+received a letter from a Christian man of my flock, telling me that
+himself and many others were pained with the fear that I was beginning
+to exceed the bounds of strict temperance: he urged total abstinence at
+once; he was a total abstainer himself.  I was startled--prostrated--
+humbled to the very dust.  I reflected on the quantity of intoxicants I
+was now taking _daily_, and I shuddered.  I thanked my friendly adviser
+with tears, and promised to return to strict moderation.  Total
+abstinence I would not hear of; it was quite out of the question.  I
+could no more do without alcoholic stimulants then than I can do now."
+
+He paused, and fixed a peculiar look on Mr Oliphant; who, however, did
+not, or would not, understand it.  So he went on:--
+
+"I tried moderation; but it would not do.  I prayed for strength to be
+moderate; but I know _now_ that I never really desired what I prayed
+for.  It was too late to be moderate; my lust had got the bit between
+its teeth, and I might as well have pulled at the wind.  I went from bad
+to worse.  Desertion, disgrace, ruin, all followed.  Everything has
+gone--church, home, money, books, clothes--the drink has had them all,
+and would have them again if they were mine at this moment.  For some
+years past I have been a roaming beggar, such as you found me when you
+picked me up in the road."
+
+He said all this with very little emotion; and then lay back, wearied
+with his exertions in speaking.
+
+"And have you any--" The rector did not know how to finish the sentence
+which he had begun after a long pause.
+
+"Have I any family? you would ask," said the other.  "I had once.  I had
+a wife and little child; my only child--a little girl.  Well, I suppose
+she's better off.  She pined and pined when there was next to nothing to
+eat in the house; and they tell me--for I was not at home when she
+died--that she said at the last, `I'm going to Jesus; they are not
+hungry where he is.'  Poor thing!"
+
+"And your wife?" exclaimed Bernard, his blood running cold at the tone
+of indifference in which this account was given.
+
+"Oh, my wife?  Ah, we did not see much of one another after our child's
+death!  I was often from home; and once, when I returned, I found that
+she was gone: they had buried her in my absence.  She died--so they
+said--of a broken heart.  Poor thing! it is not unlikely."
+
+Mr Oliphant hid his head in his hands, and groaned aloud.  He had never
+before conceived it possible--what he now found to be too true--that
+long habits of drunkenness can so utterly unhumanise a man as to reduce
+him to a mere callous self, looking upon all things outside self as
+dreamy and devoid of interest, with but one passion left--the passion
+for the poison which has ruined him.
+
+At last the rector raised his head, and said slowly and solemnly,--
+
+"And if God spares you, will you not strive to lead a new life?  Will
+you not pray for grace to conquer your besetting sin?"
+
+The wretched man did not answer for a while.  Then he said,--
+
+"I have only one thing to live for, and that is the drink.  I cannot
+live without it.  Oh, I implore you to let me have some spirits!  You do
+not, you cannot, know how I crave them, or in pity you would not
+withhold them from me."
+
+Mr Oliphant rose.
+
+"Compose yourself, my poor friend," he said.  "I dare not grant your
+request; it might be your death.  Farewell for the present.  May God,
+with whom all things are possible, help you through your present
+trouble, and enable you in the end to conquer."
+
+The wretched man called imploringly after him; but he closed the door,
+and summoning Mrs Barnes, begged her to look well after him, and to see
+that the nurse did all in her power to keep him calm, and to soothe him
+to rest.
+
+Two days after this he called again.
+
+"How is your patient to-day, Mrs Barnes?" he said to the landlady, whom
+he met on the landing.
+
+"I cannot quite tell you, sir, for I have not been in to see him this
+morning.  He was so much better yesterday that the doctor said Mrs
+Harper might go home.  I went to look at him after he had taken his tea,
+and I found old Jane Hicks with him.  She had called to speak with Mrs
+Harper, and the poor gentleman got her to go and borrow him a newspaper
+which he wanted to see.  I think I heard her come back twice since Mrs
+Harper left; but perhaps he wanted something else.  He said I had better
+not wake him very early, as he thought he should sleep well; so I
+haven't disturbed him yet."
+
+A strange misgiving crept over the rector.
+
+"Let us go in at once," he said.
+
+They knocked at the bed-room door--there was no answer; they opened it
+softly and went in.  The sick man lay on his back, apparently asleep,
+but when they came closer they saw that he was dead.  A stain on the
+sheet attracted Mr Oliphant's notice; he hastily turned it down,
+uncovering the hands; in the right was a bottle--it had held spirits;
+there was nothing in it now.
+
+So died the miserable victim of drink; so died the once flourishing
+professor; so died the once acceptable preacher.
+
+Mr Oliphant knelt by the bed-side and poured out his heart to God in
+prayer, entreating to be directed aright, and to be kept from ever in
+any degree disgracing his profession as this unhappy man had done.  He
+was reminded that he was not alone by the sobs of the landlady, who had
+fallen on her knees near him.
+
+"Mrs Barnes," he said, on rising, "I have resolved, God helping me, to
+be a total abstainer from this day forward.  I have nothing to do with
+the consciences of others, but for myself I feel that I shall be a
+happier and a wiser man if I wholly abstain from those stimulants which
+have power to make such a shipwreck as this."
+
+She did not answer except by tears and a deep sigh; and he made his way
+sadly and thoughtfully home.
+
+From that day forward the drink was wholly banished from the rectory;
+there was no difference of opinion between Bernard and his wife--they
+would bring up their children without the ensnaring stimulant.  Mr
+Oliphant showed his colours at once; and he preached as well as
+practised total abstinence, not in the place of the gospel, but as a
+handmaid to the gospel.  And Mrs Barnes was the first who joined him.
+
+"I've long hated selling beer and spirits," she said.  "I've seen the
+misery that the drink has brought even into our little village.  But I
+didn't see my way nor my duty plain before, but I see them now.  You've
+set me the example, sir; and, please God, I'll follow.  You know my poor
+master left me the farm for my life, and I shall be happier there with a
+little than I could be if I were to stop here and be making ever so
+much."
+
+She kept to her resolution.  So the "Oldfield Arms" was closed, to the
+astonishment of all the neighbours.  What was the foolish woman about?
+Had she lost her senses?  Why, the inn was doing a capital business.
+Sir Thomas Oldfield himself came down on purpose from Greymoor Park,
+when he heard what she was going to do, and tried to talk and laugh her
+out of it.  But she was firm.  The house was her own freehold, and she
+would neither use it herself as an inn, nor let any one else rent it for
+the same purpose.  Of course, she was a fool in the eyes of the world,
+but she did not care for that; and any one who saw her bright face as
+she walked about her farm, would have perceived that, whether fool or
+no, she had the enjoyment of peace in her heart.
+
+But the "Oldfield Arms" was not long without a tenant.  The rector took
+it, as we have before said, and used it partly as shops, and the large
+public room as a reading-room.  And thus it was that the "Dun Cow"
+remained without a rival as the dispenser of strong drink to the
+inhabitants of Waterland.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+THE PARK.
+
+It was a great vexation to Sir Thomas Oldfield that Mrs Barnes would
+neither keep the "Oldfield Arms" open herself, nor let it as a public-
+house to any one else.  The "Dun Cow" was quite an inferior place
+altogether, and nothing but rebuilding it could turn it into anything
+like a respectable house; but it did very well for the villagers to sot
+in.  There was a good fire, and plenty of room in its parlour, so the
+"Dun Cow" kept its name, and reigned alone.  Sir Thomas, indeed, had no
+wish to see the public-houses multiplied, for he highly disapproved of
+drunkenness, so there was no encouragement to set up another house in a
+fresh place.  And, indeed, though there was always custom in abundance
+for one such establishment, a second would, at the time of the opening
+of our story, have driven but a poor trade; for the example and appeals
+of the rector for some seventeen years as a Christian total abstainer,
+together with the knowledge that all the rectory household were
+consistent water-drinkers, had been greatly blessed in Waterland.  Many
+had left their drunkenness; a happy change had taken place in several
+homes; and a flourishing total abstinence society, which included many
+members from other parishes and villages, held its monthly meetings in
+the large temperance room under the presidency of Bernard Oliphant.
+
+Sir Thomas Oldfield hated drunkenness, and was very severe upon
+drunkards, under ordinary circumstances, when brought before him as a
+magistrate.  But, on the other hand, he hated total abstinence very
+cordially also.  He was fond of making sweeping assertions, and knocking
+timid opponents down with strong asseverations, which passed for
+excellent arguments at assize dinners, and at parties at Greymoor Park;
+for it is wonderful what exceedingly loose logic will satisfy even
+highly-educated people when employed on the side of their appetites or
+prejudices.  Once, indeed, the squire was very considerably staggered,
+but he never liked a reference to be made afterwards to the occasion.
+He was presiding at a harvest-home given to his own tenants, and had
+passed from a warm eulogium on temperance and moderation to a vehement
+harangue against total abstinence and total abstainers.  He was,
+however, cut short in the midst of his eloquence by a sturdy-looking
+labourer, who struggled forward, beer-jug in hand, and, tottering at
+every step, spluttered out,--
+
+"Hooray, hooray, Sir Thomas!  Here's long life to the squire--here's
+long life to moderation.  Hooray lads, hooray!  Here's three cheers for
+the squire and moderation.  Stand fast to your principles, like me; as
+for them total abstainers, they haven't got a leg to stand on."
+
+With that he tumbled forward, and, unable to recover his balance, fell
+flat on the ground before Sir Thomas, and lay there utterly unable to
+rise.
+
+As was the squire, so had he brought up his family.
+
+Greymoor Park was a noble property, which had come down to him through a
+long line of ancestors.  The house stood on a rocky height, and was
+surrounded, but not encumbered, by noble groups of trees, from the midst
+of which it looked out over sloping terraced gardens, glowing with
+flower-beds, which enamelled the smoothest of turf, across the park from
+which the estate took its name.  The original house was old, but while
+the fine bay-windows, massive porch, stately gables, and wide
+staircases, with their carved oak balustrades and pendants, had been
+preserved untouched, all such modern improvements had been added as
+would soften off the inconveniences of a less luxurious age.  The park
+itself was remarkable for the size and grouping of its timber, and was
+well-stocked with deer.  A fine sheet of water also spread itself out
+over an open space between the trees, so as to form a delightful variety
+to the view from the great bay-windows.  Indeed, if the things of the
+present life could have made a man happy, Sir Thomas had abundant
+grounds for happiness in this world.  Yes, _in_ this world, but not
+beyond it.  For Sir Thomas was just simply and thoroughly a man of the
+world, and a most respectable man of the world too.  No man could place
+his finger on a blot in his character or conduct.  He lived for the
+world, and the world applauded him.  He lived to please self, and to a
+considerable extent he succeeded.
+
+Lady Oldfield wished to be something higher.  She knew the emptiness of
+the world, at least in theory.  She wished to be a Christian, but was
+not.  The glow of a pure gospel faith, caught by intercourse with true
+Christians, might be often found in her words, but it went no farther;
+as the pavement on which the rich hues of a stained glass window fall,
+is but a cold colourless pavement after all, so was her heart cold,
+worldly, colourless for God.  She was careful to have her children
+taught religiously--the Bible lesson, the catechism, were learnt both
+regularly and perfectly.  No child might omit its prayers night or
+morning, nor be absent from the daily family worship.  No household was
+more strict in its attendance at church; and nothing brought down more
+speedily and severely her ladyship's displeasure than negligence to go
+to God's house, or irreverence or inattention during the service.
+Thomas, the eldest son, and heir to the baronetcy, was at present abroad
+with his regiment; the second son, Frank, was just one-and-twenty; the
+rest of the children were daughters.
+
+Ever since the coming of Bernard Oliphant to Waterland, there had been
+free intercourse between the two families at the hall and the rectory;
+for Mr Oliphant was a distant relation of the Oldfields, and it was
+through Sir Thomas that he had been presented to the living.  So the
+young people grew up together, though there was, strictly speaking, more
+intimacy than friendship between them, especially as the total
+abstinence principles of the rectory were a bar to any great cordiality
+on the part of the squire and his lady.  On this point the baronet and
+his wife were entirely agreed.  She was less openly severe, yet quite as
+determined and bitter in her opposition as he.  So the two families met,
+and were civil, and exchanged calls, and the Oliphants dined at the hall
+occasionally, and the children of both houses had little gatherings and
+feastings together from time to time.  Thus had things gone on for some
+years after Mr Oliphant had first shown his colours as a total
+abstainer; Lady Oldfield jealously watching her children, lest any of
+them should be corrupted by the absurd notions, as she counted them, of
+the rector and his wife on this subject of total abstinence.  She had,
+however, nothing to fear on this score, as regarded her eldest son.  He
+had never taken much to the Oliphants as a boy, and his absence from
+home at school and the university had kept him out of the reach of their
+influence till he left England with his regiment.  It was otherwise with
+the second son, Frank, who was specially his mother's idol, and indeed
+almost every one else's too.  From his earliest boyhood he took people's
+hearts by storm, and kept them.  No one could see him and not love that
+open, generous, handsome face, with its laughing blue eyes, and setting
+of rich brown curling hair.  No one could hear his joyous, confiding
+voice, and the expressions of unaffected and earnest interest with which
+he threw himself into every subject which fairly engaged his attention
+or affections, without feeling drawn with all the cords of the heart to
+the noble boy.  There was such a thorough openness and freedom in all
+that he did and said, yet without recklessness and without indifference
+to the feelings of others.  And when, through thoughtlessness or
+forgetfulness, as was not unfrequently the case, he happened to find
+himself in some awkward scrape or perplexity, he would toss back his
+waving hair with a half-vexed half-comical expression, which would
+disarm at once his mother's anger, spite of herself, and turn her severe
+rebuke into a mild remonstrance.  Alas, that sin should ever mar such a
+lovely work of God!  Frank loved the look of nature that lay open all
+around him, but not his own books.  He abhorred study, and only
+submitted to it from a sense of duty.  His father, at Lady Oldfield's
+urgent request, kept him at home, and engaged a private tutor for him,
+whose office would have been a sinecure but for the concern it gave him
+to find his pupil so hard to drag along the most level paths of
+learning.  Dog's-ears disfigured Frank's books, the result simply of
+restless fingers; and dog's heads; executed in a masterly style, were
+the subjects of his pen.  He loved roaming about, and there was not an
+old ruin within many miles round of which he did not know every crevice,
+nor any birds of song or prey with whose haunts and habits he was not
+intimately acquainted.  In fishing, riding, swimming, he was an early
+adept, and every outdoor sport was his delight.  All the dogs in the
+neighbourhood rejoiced in him, and every cottager's wife blessed him
+when he flung his bright smiles around him as he passed along.  At no
+place was he more welcome than at the rectory, nor was there any house
+in which he felt so happy, not even excepting his own home.  With all
+his wildness he felt the most sincere love and respect for Mr and Mrs
+Oliphant, and rejoiced in a day spent with their children.  And there
+was one of these towards whom he was drawn with feelings of peculiar
+tenderness.  He was not conscious of it, and would have laughed at the
+idea had it been suggested to him; yet it was true that when he was but
+just sixteen Mary Oliphant had begun to wind herself around his heart
+with those numberless invisible cords which would by degrees enchain him
+in bonds which no power on earth could break.  Mary, of course, mere
+child as she then was, and brought up by her parents as a child should
+be, obedient, gentle, unobtrusive, delighted in the companionship of the
+lively, open-hearted boy, without a thought beyond, and heartily enjoyed
+many a happy ramble with him and her brothers among the woods and
+meadows.  Frank Oldfield could not but be struck by the love and harmony
+which reigned in the Oliphant family.  He saw the power of a religion
+which made itself felt without thrusting itself forward into notice.  He
+could not but reflect sometimes, and then even _his_ sunny brow was
+clouded, that he wanted a something which the children at the rectory
+possessed; that he wanted a great reality, without which he could not be
+fully happy.  He saw also the bright side of total abstinence when he
+spent a day with the rector's family.  At home there was always
+abundance of beer and wine upon the table, and he drank it, like others;
+and not only drank it, but thirsted for it, and felt as if he could not
+do without it.  It was not so when he dined at the rectory, at their
+simple one o'clock meal, for he enjoyed his food, and seemed scarcely to
+miss the stimulant.
+
+One day, when he was sitting at the rectory table, he said to Mr
+Oliphant, looking up with one of his bright smiles,--
+
+"I wish I was a total abstainer."
+
+"Well," said Mr Oliphant in reply, with a smile, "I wish you were; but
+why do _you_ wish it just now, my dear boy?"
+
+"Oh, I've been thinking a good deal about it lately.  I see you smile,
+Hubert, but I really have been thinking--yes, thinking--I've been
+thinking that I should like to do as you all do; you're just as happy
+without beer and wine, and just as well too."
+
+"And is that your only reason, dear Frank?" asked Mrs Oliphant.
+
+"Oh no! that's not all; the plain truth is this, I can't help thinking
+that if I keep getting fonder and fonder of beer and wine, as I'm doing
+now, I shall get too fond of it by-and-by."
+
+Mr Oliphant sighed, and poor Mary exclaimed,--
+
+"Oh, Frank, don't say that."
+
+"Ay, but it's true; don't you think, Mr Oliphant, that I should be
+better and safer without it?"
+
+"I do, most sincerely, my dear boy," answered the rector; "yes, both
+better and safer; and specially the latter."
+
+"I know," said Frank, "that papa and mamma are not fond of total
+abstinence; but then, I cannot think that they have really looked into
+the matter as you have."
+
+"No, Frank, your father and mother do not see the matter in the same
+light as myself and I have no right to blame them, for, when I first
+came to Waterland, I thought nearly the same as they do.  Perhaps they
+will take _my_ view by-and-by."
+
+Frank shook his head, and then went on,--
+
+"But you do think it the best thing for young people, as well as grown-
+up people, to be abstainers?"
+
+"Yes, assuredly; and I will tell you why.  I will give you a little
+illustration.  There is a beautiful picture representing what is called
+the `Lorelei,' a spirit fabled to haunt some high rocks that overlook
+the Rhine.  This spirit is represented in the picture as a beautiful
+female, with a sweet but melancholy expression of countenance.  She
+kneels on the top of the rock, and is singing to a harp, which she
+strikes with her graceful fingers.  Below is a boat with two men in it,
+the one old, and the other young.  The boat is rapidly nearing the
+rocks, but both the men are utterly unconscious of their danger--the old
+man has ceased to hold the helm, the young man has dropped the oars, and
+both are fondly stretching out their hands towards the deceiving spirit,
+wholly entranced with her song--a few moments more and their boat will
+be a wreck.  Now, it is because the drink is such an enticing thing,
+like the Lorelei spirit; because it seems to sing pleasantly to us, and
+makes us forget where we are; because it lures on old and young to their
+ruin, by robbing them of their self-control;--it is for these reasons
+that I think it such a happy thing to put every safeguard between
+ourselves and its snares."
+
+"Yes," said Frank thoughtfully; "I know the drink is becoming a snare to
+me, or may become so.  What shall I do?  Ought I to give it up
+altogether?"
+
+"It is a very difficult thing to answer that question," replied the
+rector.  "I could hardly urge you to give up beer and wine altogether,
+if your father and mother positively forbid your doing so; there is no
+sin, of course, in the simple taking of fermented liquors, and therefore
+I could not advise you to go directly contrary to your parents' orders
+in this matter."
+
+"There is no harm, however, in my trying to give up beer and wine, if my
+father and mother will allow me?"
+
+"Certainly not, my dear boy; and may God make your way plain, and remove
+or overcome your difficulties."
+
+The day after this conversation, Frank was sitting in his place at the
+dinner-table of the hall.  The butler brought him a glass of beer.  "No,
+thank you," he said.  A little while after he filled a tumbler with
+water, and began to drink it.
+
+"Frank, my boy," said his father, "are not you well?  Why don't you take
+your beer as usual?"
+
+"I'm quite well, thank you, papa; but I'd rather have the water."
+
+"Well, put some port wine in it, at any rate, if you don't fancy the
+beer to-day."
+
+"I'd rather have neither beer nor wine, thank you, papa."
+
+By this time Lady Oldfield's attention was drawn to what was passing
+between her husband and son.
+
+"Dear Frank," she said, "I shall not allow you to do anything so foolish
+as to drink water.  James, hand the beer again to Master Frank."
+
+"Indeed, dear mamma," he urged, "I mean what I say; I really should
+rather have water."
+
+"Absurd!" exclaimed her ladyship angrily; "what folly has possessed you
+now?  You know that the medical men all say that wine and beer are
+necessary for your health."
+
+"I'm sure, mamma, the medical men needn't trouble themselves about my
+health.  I'm always very well when I have plenty of air and exercise.
+If ever I feel unwell, it is when I've had more wine or beer than
+usual."
+
+"And who, pray, has been putting these foolish notions into your head?
+I see how it is; I always feared it; the Oliphants have been filling
+your head with their extravagant notions about total abstinence.
+Really, my dear," she added, turning to Sir Thomas, "we must forbid
+Frank's going to the rectory, if they are to make our own child fly in
+the face of our wishes."
+
+"Mamma," cried Frank, all on fire with excitement and indignation,
+"you're quite mistaken about the Oliphants; they have none of them been
+trying to talk me over to their own views.  I began the subject myself,
+and asked Mr Oliphant's advice, and he told me expressly that I ought
+not to do what you would disapprove of."
+
+"And why should you ask Mr Oliphant's advice?  Cannot you trust your
+own father and mother?  I am not saying a word against Mr Oliphant as a
+clergyman or a Christian; he preaches the gospel fully and faithfully,
+and works hard in his parish, but on this subject of total abstinence he
+holds views which neither your father nor I approve of; and, really, I
+must not have you tampered with in this matter."
+
+"Well, dear mamma, I've done; I'll do as you wish.  Farewell water--
+welcome beer and wine; James, a glass of ale."
+
+It was two years after this that a merry company from the hall and
+rectory set out to explore a remarkable ruin about five miles distant
+from Waterland.  Frank was leader of the party; he had never given his
+parents any more anxiety on the score of total abstinence--on the
+contrary, he had learned to take so freely of wine and beer, that his
+mother felt at times a little alarmed lest he should seriously overpass
+the bounds of moderation.  When at the rectory, he never again alluded
+to the subject, but rather seemed eager to turn the conversation when
+any remark fell from Mr or Mrs Oliphant on the evils arising from
+intemperance.  And now to-day he was in the highest spirits, as he rode
+on a sprightly little pony by the side of Mary Oliphant, who was mounted
+on another pony, and was looking the picture of peaceful beauty.  Other
+young people followed, also on horseback.  The day was most lovely, and
+an inspiriting canter along lane and over moor soon brought them to the
+ruin.  It was a stately moss-embroidered fabric, more picturesque in its
+decay than it ever could have been in its completeness.  Its shattered
+columns, solitary mullions, and pendent fragments of tracery hoary with
+age, and in parts half concealed by the negligent profusion of ivy,
+entranced the mind by their suggestive and melancholy beauty; while the
+huge remnant of a massive tower seemed to plead with mute dignity
+against the violence which had rent and marred it, and against the
+encroaching vegetation, which was climbing higher and higher, and
+enveloping its giant stones in a fantastic clothing of shrub and
+bramble.
+
+Frank and his party first shut up their horses in the old refectory,
+closing the entrance with a hurdle, and then dispersed over the ruins.
+Mary had brought her drawing-pad, that she might sketch a magnificent
+pillar, and the remains of a transept arch which rose gracefully behind
+it, crowned with drooping ivy, and disclosing in the back ground,
+through a shattered window, the dreamy blue of the distant hills.  She
+sat on the mutilated chapiter of a column, and was soon so wholly
+absorbed in her work, that she never turned her eyes to notice Frank
+Oldfield, who, leaning against a low archway, was busily engaged in a
+vigorous sketch, of which herself was the prominent object.  And who
+could blame him? for certainly a lovelier picture, or one more full of
+harmonious contrast, could hardly have been found, than that presented
+by the sweet and graceful figure of the rector's daughter, with its
+surroundings of massive masonry and majestic decay.  She all life, a
+creature of the present, and yet still more of the future, as bright
+with the sunshine of a hope that could never die; and they, those
+mouldering stones, that broken tracery, those mossy arches, sad in the
+desolation of the present, sadder still in the memories of an
+unenlightened past.  Frank finished his sketch, and, holding it behind
+him, stole gently up to the side of Mary Oliphant.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed, "a most lovely little bit; and yet, I have the
+vanity to think that my choice of a subject has been better than your
+own."
+
+"The drawing is, no doubt," she answered; "but I hardly think you can
+find such a picturesque group as this in any other part of the ruins."
+
+"Let us compare, then," he said, and placed his own sketch by the side
+of hers.
+
+"Oh, Frank," she cried, "how can you be so foolish?"
+
+At the same time the colour which flushed her face, and the bright smile
+which lighted it, showed that the folly was not very reprehensible in
+her eyes.
+
+"Is it so very foolish?" he asked, half seriously, half playfully.
+"Well; I wish I had shown the same kind of folly in my choice of some
+other things as I have in the choice of a subject."
+
+She was about to reply, when suddenly, without any warning, a savage-
+looking dog dashed into the open space before them, and, making a fierce
+rush at Mary, caught her by the dress.
+
+"Down, you brute, down!" shouted Frank; but the dog still retained his
+hold, and growled and tossed himself about savagely.  Frank had no stick
+nor weapon of any kind in his hands, but he darted to a heap of loose
+stones, and snatching one up turned towards the dog.  In the meantime,
+Mary, in extreme terror, had dropped her drawing-pad, and plucking her
+dress from the fierce creature's mouth, fled with all her speed across
+the pavement, and sprang up the projecting stones of an old archway.
+The dog, with a loud yell, followed her, and easily overtook her, as the
+ascent up which she had climbed presented a broad footing.  Utterly
+terrified, and unconscious of what she was doing, the poor girl
+clambered higher and higher to escape her enemy.  Frank had now turned
+upon the dog, and hurled one huge stone at him; it passed near, but did
+not touch him.  Mary's terror only excited the furious animal to follow,
+and as she saw him close upon her again, with a wild cry she leaped
+right across to an old fragment of a turret which stood out by itself in
+an angle of the wall.  The dog hesitated, but, before it could decide to
+follow her, another stone from Frank had struck it full in the side.
+With a tremendous howl it tumbled down into the court and fled.  Poor
+Mary! she gasped for breath, and could not for a long time recover her
+self-possession.  When at last she became more calm, soothed and
+encouraged by the kind voice and earnest entreaties of Frank, it was
+only to awake to the extreme danger of her present position.  Fear had
+made her take a leap which she could never have dared to attempt in her
+calm senses.  She looked across the chasm over which she had sprung, and
+shuddered.  Could she try the leap back again?  No; she dared not.  In
+the meantime, the stones to which she was clinging began to loosen
+beneath her weight.  She looked down, and became giddy.
+
+"Oh, save me--save me--I shall fall!" she cried.  She clutched at a
+strong stem of ivy which was climbing up the wall close by, and so
+supported herself; but it was evident that she could not long retain her
+hold in that constrained position, even if the stonework did not give
+way beneath her feet.  All the party had now gathered in the open space
+below, and some began to climb the path by which she had mounted.
+Frank, in the meanwhile, was making desperate efforts to reach the poor
+girl.
+
+"Hold on--hold on--dear Mary!" he cried; "a few moments, and I shall be
+with you; don't lose courage--keep a firm grasp on the ivy; there--I've
+got a landing on the top of this old arch; now, I'm only a few feet
+off--steady, steady--don't stir for your life--only a few moments more
+and I shall be at your side."
+
+It was perilous work indeed; and all who beheld him held their breath as
+he made his way towards where the object of their deep anxiety was
+crouched.  Now he was clinging to a rough projecting stone, now swinging
+by a rusty bar, now grasping ivy or brambles, and every now and then
+slipping as the old masonry gave way beneath his feet.  At last, with
+immense exertion, he gained a ledge a little below where the terrified
+girl was perched, half lying, half crouching.  Here he had firm
+standing-ground.  Placing his hand gently upon her, he bade her slide
+down towards him, assuring her that she would have a firm footing on the
+ledge.  She obeyed at once, feeling his strong arm bearing her up and
+guiding her.  Another moment, and she stood beside him.  But now, how
+were they to descend?  She dared not attempt to leap back to the spot
+from whence she had sprung in her terror, and there was no regular
+descent from the slab on which they were perched, but only a few
+projecting stones down the perpendicular face of the wall, and these at
+wide intervals.
+
+"There's no way but a roundabout climb down by the ivy," said Frank at
+last.  "Trust to me, dear Mary, and do exactly what I tell you.  I will
+go first, and do you place hand and foot just as I bid you.  There--put
+your foot in that crevice--now take firm hold of that branch; there--now
+the other foot--now the next step a little to the right, the good ivy
+makes a noble ladder--now we're nearly landed; there--be careful not to
+slip on that round stone--one step more, and now we're safe.  Oh, thank
+God, _you're_ safe!"
+
+He clasped her to his heart; she knew that heart was hers; she could not
+resent that loving embrace; it was but for a moment.  He released her,
+and was turning to the friends who were gathering and pressing round,
+when a heavy stone, loosened in their descent, fell on his outstretched
+arm, and struck him to the ground.
+
+Mary sprang towards him with a cry of deep distress.
+
+"Frank, dear Frank--you're hurt--you're dreadfully hurt, I'm sure."
+
+"No, no; not much, I hope," he said, springing up, but looking very
+pale.  "It's an awkward blow rather, but don't distress yourself--we'll
+make the best of our way home at once--just one of you see to the
+horses."
+
+He spoke with effort, for he was evidently in great pain.  Mary's heart
+ached for him, but exhaustion and anxiety quite deprived her of the
+power of speaking or thinking collectively.
+
+The horses were speedily brought.  Frank held out his uninjured arm to
+help Mary Oliphant to mount her pony.
+
+"I'm so very, very sorry," she said, "to have caused this disaster, and
+spoiled our happy day through my foolish timidity."
+
+"Nay, nay; you must not blame yourself," said Frank.  "I am sure we all
+feel for you.  It was that rascal of a dog that did the mischief, but I
+gave him such a mark of my respect as I don't think he'll part with for
+a long time."
+
+Poor Frank, he tried to be cheerful; but it was plain to all that he
+must be suffering severely.  They were soon on their way home, but a
+cloud rested on their spirits.  Few words were said till they reached
+the spot where the roads to the hall and the rectory parted.  Then Frank
+turned to Mary and said, with a look full of tenderness, rendered doubly
+touching by his almost ghastly paleness,--
+
+"Farewell; I hope you'll be none the worse, dear Mary, for your fright.
+I shall send over to-morrow to inquire how you are.  It was a happy
+escape."
+
+"Good-bye, good-bye!" she cried; "a thousand thanks for your noble and
+timely rescue!  Oh, I hope--I hope--"
+
+She could not say more, but burst into tears.
+
+"All right--never fear for me!" he cried cheerily as he rode off,
+leaving Mary and a groom to make their way to Waterland, while himself
+and the rest of the party hastened on to Greymoor Park.
+
+They had not far to ride, but Frank was evidently anxious to reach home
+as speedily as possible.  With clenched teeth and knit brow, he urged on
+his pony to a gallop.  Soon they reached the lodge; a few moments more
+and they had passed along the drive and gained the grand entrance.  Lady
+Oldfield had just returned from a drive, and was standing on the top
+step.
+
+"You're early home," she remarked.  "Dear Frank, I hope there's nothing
+amiss," she added, noticing the downcast looks of the whole party.
+
+Her son did not answer, but, dismounting with difficulty, began to walk
+up the steps.  She observed with dismay that he tottered as he
+approached her.  Could he have been drinking so freely as to be unable
+to walk steadily?  Her heart died within her.  The next moment he
+staggered forward, and fainted in her arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE.
+
+GOOD RESOLUTIONS.
+
+"What--what is this?" cried Lady Oldfield in bitter distress.  "Frank--
+my child--my beloved boy--oh, open your eyes--look at me--speak--what
+has happened?  Oh, he's dying, he's dying--James--Richard--carry him up
+to his room.  One of you tell Tomkins to ride off immediately for Dr
+Portman.  Thomas, fetch me some brandy--quick--quick!"
+
+They carried him in a state of complete insensibility to his room, and
+laid him on the bed.  His mother stood over him, bathing his temples
+with eau-de-cologne, and weeping bitterly.  The brandy was brought; they
+raised him, and poured a little through his blanched lips; slowly he
+began to revive; his lips moved.  Lady Oldfield stooped her ear close to
+his face, and caught the murmured word, "Mary."
+
+"Oh, thank God," she exclaimed, "that he is not dead!  Does any one know
+how this has happened?"
+
+"I believe, my lady," replied one of the servants, "that Mr Frank was
+hit by a big stone which fell on him from the top of the ruins.  I heard
+Juniper Graves say as much."
+
+"Ay, my lady," said another; "it were a mercy it didn't kill Mr Frank
+outright."
+
+The object of their care began now to come more to himself.  He tried to
+rise, but fell back with a groan.
+
+"What _can_ I do for you, my poor boy?" asked his mother; "the doctor
+will be here soon, but can we do anything for you now?  Where is your
+pain?"
+
+"I fear my left arm is broken," he whispered; "the pain is terrible."
+
+"Take some more brandy," said his mother.
+
+He took it, and was able to sit up.  Then with great difficulty they
+undressed him, and he lay on the bed pale and motionless till the doctor
+arrived.  On examination, it was found that the arm was terribly
+bruised, but not broken.  There were, however, other injuries also,
+though not of a serious character, which Frank had sustained in his
+perilous climbing to the rescue of Mary Oliphant.  Fever came on,
+aggravated by the brandy injudiciously administered.  For some days it
+was doubtful what would be the issue; but at last, to the great joy of
+Sir Thomas and his wife, the turning-point was passed, and Dr Portman
+pronounced their child out of danger--all he needed now was good
+nursing, sea-air, and proper nourishment.  During the ravings of the
+fever his mind was often rambling on the scene in the ruins--at one time
+he would be chiding the dog, at another he would be urging Mary to cling
+firmly to the ivy; and there was a tone of tenderness in these appeals
+which convinced Lady Oldfield that her son's heart was given to the
+rector's daughter.  This was confirmed by a conversation which she had
+with him at the sea-side, where he was gone to recruit his strength.
+There he opened his whole heart to her, and confessed the depth of his
+attachment to her whose life he had so gallantly saved.  Lady Oldfield
+was at first pained; she would not have preferred such an alliance for
+her son.  But, on further reflection, the prospect was not so
+displeasing to her.  Mary Oliphant was not inferior to her son in birth,
+and would have, when she came of age, a good fortune which had been left
+her by a wealthy aunt.  Frank's love for beer and wine, and even
+spirits, had grown so much of late, that his mother had begun to feel
+very anxious about him on that score.  She had no wish that he should
+become a total abstainer; indeed she was, at this very time, giving him,
+by the doctor's orders, as much porter and wine as he could bear; but
+she thought that Mary's total abstinence might act as a check upon him
+to keep him within the bounds of strict moderation.  She knew, too, that
+Mary was a genuine Christian, and she sincerely believed that true
+religion in a wife was the only solid foundation of domestic happiness.
+Before, therefore, they returned to Greymoor Park, Frank had his
+mother's hearty consent, subject to Sir Thomas's approval, to his
+engaging himself to Mary Oliphant.
+
+And what were Mary's own feelings on the subject?  Poor girl, she had
+never realised before that day of peril and rescue that she felt, or
+could feel, more than a half friendly, half sisterly liking for Frank
+Oldfield.  She had always admired his open generous disposition, and had
+been happy in his society; but they had been so many years companions,
+that she had never thought of looking upon him as one likely to form an
+attachment to herself.  But now there could be no doubt on the subject.
+What passed in the old ruin had convinced her that his heart was given
+to her; and more than this, that her own heart was given to him.  And
+now his sufferings and illness, brought on him through his exertions to
+save her from destruction, had called out her love for him into full
+consciousness.  Yet with that consciousness there came a deep sense of
+pain.  It had taken her so by surprise; her heart was given before she
+had had time to reflect whether she ought to have given it.  Could she
+be happy with him? was he a real Christian? did he love the same Saviour
+she loved herself?  Oh, these thoughts pressed heavily upon her spirit,
+but she spread out her cares first before her heavenly Father, and then
+with full childlike openness before her earthly parent--that loving
+mother from whom she had never had a single concealment.
+
+Mrs Oliphant sighed when her daughter had poured out her anxieties and
+difficulties.
+
+"Oh, mamma--dearest mamma!" cried Mary, "what ought I to do?  I am sure
+he loves me, and I know that he will tell me so, for he is the very last
+person to keep back what he feels.  What would you and dear papa wish me
+to do, should he declare his affection?  I could not honestly say that
+my heart is indifferent to him, and yet I should not dare to encourage
+him to look forward to a time when we shall be one on earth, unless I
+can trust too that we shall be one hereafter in heaven."
+
+"My precious child," replied her mother, "you know our doubts and our
+fears.  You know that Frank has acknowledged to increasing fondness for
+intoxicating drinks.  You know that his poor mother will rather
+encourage that taste.  And oh, if you should marry, and he should become
+a drunkard--a confirmed drunkard--oh, surely he will bring misery on my
+beloved child, and her father's and mother's grey hairs with sorrow to
+the grave."
+
+"Dearest mamma, you have only to say that you are convinced that I
+cannot be happy with him, or that you and dear papa consider that I
+ought to relinquish all thoughts about him, and I will at once endeavour
+to banish him from my heart."
+
+"No, my child.  Your affections, it is clear, have already become
+entangled, and therefore we are not in the same position to advise you
+as if your heart were free to give or to withhold.  Had it been
+otherwise, we should have urged you to pause before you allowed any
+thoughts about Frank to lodge in your heart, or perhaps to be prepared
+to give a decided refusal, in case of his making a declaration of his
+attachment."
+
+"But you do not think him quite hopeless, dear mamma?  Remember how
+anxious he seemed at one time to become a total abstainer.  And might
+not I influence him to take the decided step, when I should have a right
+to do so with which no one could interfere?"
+
+"It might be so, my darling.  God will direct.  But only promise me one
+thing--should Frank ask you to engage yourself to him, and you should
+discover that he is becoming the slave of intemperance before the time
+arrives when you are both old enough to marry, promise me that in that
+case you will break off the engagement."
+
+"I promise you, dearest mamma, that, cost what struggle it may, I will
+never marry a drunkard."
+
+It was but a few days after the above conversation that Frank Oldfield
+called at the rectory.  It was the first time that he and Mary had met
+since the day of their memorable adventure.  He was looking pale, and
+carried his arm in a sling, but his open look and bright smile were
+unchanged.
+
+"I carry about with me, you see, dear Mary," he said, "my apology for
+not having sooner called to inquire after you.  I hope you were not
+seriously the worse for your fright and your climb?"
+
+"Oh no," she replied earnestly; "only so grieved when I found what you
+had suffered in saving me.  How shall I ever thank you enough for
+sacrificing yourself as you did for me?"
+
+"Well," he answered with a smile, "I suppose I ought to say that you
+have nothing to thank me for.  And yet I do think that I may accept of
+some thanks--and, to tell the truth, I have just come over to suggest
+the best way in which the thanks may be given."
+
+Mary did not answer, but looked down; and, spite of herself, her tears
+would fall fast.
+
+"Dear Mary," he said, "the plainest and shortest way is the one that
+suits me best.  I want you to give me your heart--you have had mine long
+ago, and I think you know it."
+
+She did not speak.
+
+"Oh, Mary, dearest Mary, can I be mistaken?  Cannot you--do not you love
+me?"
+
+"Frank," she replied, in a low and tearful voice, "it would be
+affectation in me to make a show of concealing my love to you.  I _do_
+love you.  I never knew it till that day; but since then I have known
+that my heart is yours."
+
+She said this so sadly, that he asked half seriously, half playfully,--
+
+"Would you then wish to have it back again?"
+
+"No, dear Frank; I cannot wish _that_."
+
+"Then one day--if we are spared--you will be my own loving wife?"
+
+There was no reply, but only a burst of tears.
+
+"Mary, dearest Mary, what am I to understand?  Do your parents object to
+your engaging yourself to me?  Oh, surely it is not so?"
+
+"No, Frank; they have not objected--not exactly--but--"
+
+She hesitated and looked down.
+
+"Oh, why then not give me a plain `Yes' at once?  You own that your
+heart is mine--you _know_ that my heart is yours--why not then promise
+to be mine altogether?"
+
+"It is true, dear Frank," she replied slowly, "that my heart is yours--I
+cannot take it back if I would--but it may be my duty not to give my
+hand with it."
+
+"Your duty!  Oh, Mary, what a cold, cruel speech!  Why your duty?"
+
+"Well," she replied, "the plain truth is best, and best when soonest
+spoken.  You must know, dear Frank, how we all here feel about the sin
+and misery caused by strong drink.  And you must know--oh, forgive me
+for saying it, but I must say it, I must be open with you _now_ on this
+subject--you must know that we have reason to fear that your own liking
+for beer and wine and such things has been, for the last year or two, on
+the increase.  And oh, we fear--we fear that, however unconsciously, you
+may be on the downward road to--to--"
+
+She could not finish her sentence.
+
+Frank hung down his head, and turned half away, the colour flushing up
+to the top of his fair forehead.  He tried to speak, but could not for a
+while.  At last, in a husky voice, he whispered,--
+
+"And so you will give me up to perish, body and soul, and to go down
+hill with all my might and main?"
+
+"No, Frank," she answered, having now regained her composure; "no; I
+have no wish to give you up to sin and ruin.  It will rest with
+yourself.  I cannot promise absolutely that I will be yours.  It will
+depend upon--upon--upon what you are yourself when the time comes that
+we might marry."
+
+"And you have promised your mother--"
+
+"I have promised--oh, Frank, dear Frank, pardon me if I wound you by
+plain, rough words, but they must be spoken--I have promised that I will
+never be the wife of a drunkard."
+
+He bowed his head on his hand, and there was a long and painful silence.
+Poor Mary, her heart bled for him, as she saw the tears forcing their
+way between his thin, pale fingers.
+
+"Mary," he said at last, "you must be mine; I cannot live without you.
+Trust me; you shall have no cause to be ashamed of me.  I know--I feel
+that I have been in great danger of sliding into intemperate habits; but
+you shall see me and hear of me henceforth as strictly moderate.  I
+solemnly promise you this; and on the very day that makes us one, I will
+be one with you in total abstinence also.  Dearest, will this satisfy
+you?"
+
+"Yes, dear Frank; I have no right to ask more, if you _can_ be strictly
+moderate; but oh, do not trust in your own strength.  Pray for help,
+dear Frank, and then you will be able to conquer."
+
+"Oh, of course," he said hastily; "but never fear, I give you my solemn
+promise that you shall never see nor hear of any excess in me."
+
+And did he keep his resolution?  Yes; for a while.  But, alas! how
+little do those in circumstances like his really appreciate the awful
+difficulties which beset those who are struggling to maintain strict
+moderation.  This makes drunkenness such a fearful and exceptional
+sin,--
+
+  "The bow well bent, and smart the spring,
+  Vice seems already slain."
+
+The resolution is firmly set; the man walks forth strong as a rock in
+his determination.  He begins to drink; his rock is but a piece of ice
+after all, but he knows it not; it is beginning to melt with the warmth
+of the first glass; he is cheered and encouraged by the second glass,
+and his resolution seems to himself stronger than ever, while in very
+truth it is only melting faster and faster.  At last he is over the
+border of moderation before he conceives that he had so much as
+approached it.  Then, alas! the word "moderation" stands for an unknown
+quantity, easy to use but hard to define, since one man's moderation may
+be another man's excess, and to-day's moderation may be an excess to-
+morrow.
+
+Poor Frank was never more in earnest than when he promised Mary Oliphant
+that he would observe strict moderation.  He had everything to induce
+him to keep his word--his love for Mary; his desire to please his own
+parents, who had begun to tremble for him; his own self-respect.  So he
+left the rectory strong as a lion in his own estimation, yet not without
+a sort of misgiving underlying his conviction of his own firmness; but
+he would not listen to that misgiving for a moment.
+
+"I mean to be what I have promised, and I _will_ be," he said to
+himself.  "Mary shall see that, easy and self-indulgent as I have been,
+I can be rigid as iron when I have the will to be so."
+
+Poor Frank! he did not knew his own weakness; he did not know that his
+was not a will of iron, but was like a foot once badly sprained, which
+has lost its firm and unfaltering tread.  Happy would it have been for
+him had he sought a strength higher than his own--the strength from
+above.
+
+For several weeks he kept strictly to his purpose.  He limited himself
+to so much beer and wine, and never exceeded.  He became proud of his
+firmness, forgetting that there had been nothing to test the stamina of
+his resolution.
+
+At last the annual harvest-home came round.  It was a season of great
+festivity at Greymoor Park.  Sir Thomas, as we have said, wished all his
+tenants and labourers to be sober, and spoke to that effect on these
+occasions; at the same time he was equally anxious that both meat and
+drink should be dealt out with no niggard hand.  So men and women took
+as much as they liked, and the squire was very careful to make no very
+strict inquiries as to the state of any of his work-people on the
+following day; and if any case of intemperance on these occasions came
+to his knowledge afterwards, as commonly happened, it was winked at,
+unless of a very gross and open character.
+
+"Poor fellows," said the good-natured landlord, "it's only once in a
+year that they get such a feast, and I must not be too strict with them.
+There's many a good fellow gets a little too much on these days, who is
+an excellent steady workman and father all the rest of the year.  It's
+drunkenness--the habit of drunkenness--that is such a sin and scandal."
+
+So everything was done to make the harvest-home a day of feasting and
+mirth.
+
+On the present occasion the weather was as bright and propitious as
+could be desired.  A blazing sun poured down his heat from a cloudless
+sky; scarce a breath of wind stirred the flag which, in honour of the
+day, floated above the entrance of the hall.  Two large tents were
+spread out by the borders of the ornamental water, in full view of the
+hall windows.  A band, hired for the occasion, poured forth a torrent of
+fierce music.  Children decked in blue ribbons and ears of corn ran in
+and out of the tents, getting in everybody's way; but as everybody was
+just then in the best of humours, it was of no consequence.  Visitors
+began to arrive in picturesque groups, strolling through the trees
+towards the tents.  Hot footmen were rushing wildly about, carrying all
+sorts of eatables and drinkables.  Tables creaked and plates clattered.
+Then, just about one o'clock, came the squire and his lady, followed by
+many friends, among whom were Mr and Mrs Oliphant; while Frank,
+looking supremely happy, with his sunny face all life and playfulness,
+came last, with Mary on his arm.  Usually the Oliphants had kept away
+from these harvest-homes, for they were not conducted to the rector's
+satisfaction, but to-day they had a special reason for coming.  Frank
+had been over to the rectory with an urgent request from his father that
+Mr Oliphant would be present.  He might do good by appearing among
+them, and Frank wanted Mary to see how he could use his influence in
+keeping order and sobriety.  There were loud cheers, pleasant smiles,
+and hearty greetings as the party from the hall entered the tents, where
+all things were as bright and beautiful as banners, mottoes, and ears of
+corn arranged in all sorts of appropriate devices could make them.  The
+tenants dined in one tent, the labourers and their wives in the other.
+Sir Thomas and Lady Oldfield presided in the former, and Frank took the
+head of the table in the latter.  Mr and Mrs Oliphant and Mary sat
+near the baronet.
+
+The two tents were separated by several yards from one another, so that
+while the guests were all partaking of dinner at the same time, the hum
+of voices, the clatter of knives and forks, the braying of the brass
+instruments which were performing in the space between the two parties,
+and the necessary attention to the wants of the visitors, quite
+prevented those presiding in the principal tent from hearing what was
+passing in the other.  It was the intention of the squire, after all had
+been satisfied, to gather both companies together in the open park, and
+address them before they separated to join in the various amusements
+provided for them.
+
+The guests in the chief tent had just concluded their dinner, and those
+at the upper table, where the party from the hall had been sitting, were
+dispersing and making their way into the open air, when a burst of
+cheers and shrieks of laughter from the other tent made Sir Thomas
+remark, with a slight cloud on his face,--
+
+"Our friends over there seem very merry."
+
+Then came louder cheers and louder laughter.  Mary's heart died within
+her, she hardly knew why.  She hurried out of the tent, when she was met
+by Juniper Graves, the groom, a man from whom she shrank with special
+dislike, for reasons which will shortly be explained.
+
+"Come here, miss," he cried, with a malicious grin; "here's Mr Frank
+making such capital fun; he'll send us all into fits afore he's done!  I
+never seed anything like it--it's quite bacchanalian!"
+
+Under other circumstances Mary would have hurried away at once, but the
+name of Frank acted like a spell.  She peeped in at the tent-door where
+the labourers were dining, and almost sank to the ground at the sight
+she beheld.
+
+Standing on a chair at the head of the table, his face flushed a deep
+red, his beautiful hair tossed back and his eyes flashing with
+excitement, a bottle flourishing in his right hand, was Frank Oldfield,
+roaring out, amidst cheers and shouts of applause, a boisterous,
+roystering comic song.  Mary was shrinking back in horror when she saw
+Juniper Graves glide behind his young master's chair, and fill his glass
+from a jug which he held in his hand.  Frank saw the act, caught up the
+glass, and drained it in a moment.  Then launching out into his song
+again, he swayed himself backwards and forwards, evidently being in
+danger of falling but for the help of the groom, who held out his arm to
+steady him.  Mary tottered back out of the tent, but not till her eyes
+had met those of her lover.  Oh! it sickened her to think of so pure and
+holy a thing as love in connection with such a face as that.
+
+"My child," said her father, to whom she had hurried, pale, and ready to
+sink at every step, "what has happened? what is the matter?  Are you
+ill?"
+
+"Oh, take me home, take me home," she cried, in a terrified whisper.
+The noise of the band prevented others from hearing her words of
+distress, and she was hidden from the rest of the company by a fold of
+the tent.
+
+"But what shall I say to Sir Thomas?" asked her father.
+
+"Say nothing now, dear papa; let us get away from this--this dreadful
+place--as quickly as we can.  Send over a note, and say you took me home
+because I was ill, as indeed I am--ill in body, sick to death in heart.
+Dearest mamma, come with us; let us slip away at once."
+
+So they made their way home swiftly and sadly--sadly, for the rector and
+his wife had both now guessed the cause of their child's trouble; they
+had heard something of the uproar, with sorrowful misgivings that Frank
+was the guilty cause.
+
+Unhappy Mary!  When they reached home she threw herself into her loving
+mother's arms, and poured out all her grief.  A messenger was at once
+dispatched to the hall with a note of apology for their abrupt
+departure.  It was, however, needless.  The messenger brought back word
+that, when the people had been gathered for the address, Frank Oldfield
+had staggered forwards towards his father so hopelessly intoxicated,
+that he had to be led away home between two of the servants.  Sir Thomas
+said a few hasty words to the assembled tenants and work-people,
+expressing his great regret at his son's state, but excusing it on the
+ground of his weakness after his illness, so that the great heat of the
+weather had caused what he had taken to have an unusually powerful
+effect upon him.  In reply to Mr Oliphant's note, the squire made the
+same excuse for his son, and trusted that Miss Oliphant would not take
+to heart what had happened under such exceptional circumstances.  But
+Mary could not pass the matter over so lightly.  She could not wipe out
+from her memory that scene in the tent.  She pressed her hand tightly
+over her eyes, and shuddered as she thought of Frank standing there,
+wild, coarse, debased, brutalised, a thing to make rude and vulgar
+merriment; while the man, the gentleman, and the Christian had been
+demonised out of that fair form by the drink.  Oh, what bitter tears she
+shed that night as she lay awake, racked with thoughts of the past and
+despairing of the future.  The next day came a penitential letter from
+Frank; he threw himself on her pity--he had been overcome--he abhorred
+himself for it--he saw his own weakness now--he would pray for strength
+as she had urged him to do--surely she would not cast him off for one
+offence--he had been most strictly moderate up to that unhappy day--he
+implored her forgiveness--he asked her to try him only once more--he
+loved her so dearly, so passionately, that her rejection would be death
+to him.
+
+What could she say?  She was but a poor erring sinner herself and should
+she at once shut the door of pity upon him?  He had fallen indeed, but
+he might be taught such a lesson by that fall as he might never forget.
+Once more--she would try him once more, if her parents thought her right
+in doing so.  And could they say nay?--they felt they could not.  Little
+as they really hoped for any permanent improvement, they considered that
+they should be hardly right in dissuading their child from giving the
+poor penitent another trial.
+
+So Mary wrote back a loving earnest letter, imploring Frank to seek his
+strength to keep his resolution in prayer.  Again they met; again it was
+sunshine; but, to poor Mary's heart, sunshine through a cloud.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+A DISCUSSION.
+
+It was about a month after the harvest-home, so full of sad memories for
+all at the hall and rectory, that Mr Oliphant was seated one afternoon
+in the drawing-room of Greymoor Park.  The company assembled consisted
+of the baronet and Lady Oldfield; the baronet's brother, Reverend John
+Oldfield; Dr Portman, the medical man; and Bernard Oliphant.
+
+Mr John Oldfield had been telling the news of his part of the county to
+his brother and sister-in-law.
+
+"You'll be sorry to hear," he continued, "that poor Mildman's dead."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed the rector.  "I'm very sorry.  Was there any change
+in him before his death?"
+
+"No, I fear not.  His has been a very sad case.  I remember him well
+when he was vicar of Sapton.  A brighter and more loving Christian and
+pastor I never knew, but somehow or other he got into drinking habits,
+and these have been his ruin."
+
+"Poor man," said Sir Thomas, "he used to be the laughing-stock of old
+Bellowen, his squire; it was very grievous to see a man throw himself
+away as he did.  The squire would ply him with drink, and press the
+bottle upon him, till poor Mildman was so tipsy that he had to be taken
+by the servants to the vicarage.  Sometimes the butler had to put him
+into a cart, when it was dark, and had him tumbled out like so much
+rubbish at his own door."
+
+"Really," said Lady Oldfield, "I was surprised to hear Mr Bellowen talk
+about him in the way he did.  He endeavoured in every possible way to
+get him to drink, while at the very same time he despised and abused him
+for drinking, and would launch out at the clergy and their self-
+indulgent habits."
+
+"Yes," said her brother-in-law; "no one knew better what a clergyman
+ought to be than the squire.  We may be very thankful that his charges
+against our order were gross exaggerations.  We may congratulate
+ourselves that the old-fashioned drunken parson is now pretty nearly a
+creature of the past.  Don't you think so, Mr Oliphant?"
+
+"I confess to you," replied the rector, "that I was rather thinking, in
+connection with poor Mildman's sad history, of those words, `Let him
+that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.'"
+
+"Why, surely you don't think there is much danger in these days of many
+persons of our profession becoming the victims of intemperance?"
+
+"I cannot feel so sure about that," was the reply.  "You know I hold
+strong views on the subject.  I wish I could see more clergymen total
+abstainers."
+
+"I must say that I quite disagree with you there," said the other; "what
+we want, in my view, is, not to make people total abstainers, but to
+give them those principles which will enable them to enjoy all lawful
+indulgences lawfully."
+
+"I should heartily concur in this view," said Mr Oliphant, "if the
+indulgence in strong drink to what people consider a moderate extent
+were exactly on the same footing as indulgence in other things.  But
+there is something so perilous in the very nature of alcoholic
+stimulants, that multitudes are lured by them to excess who would have
+been the last to think, on commencing to drink, that themselves could
+possibly become transgressors."
+
+"Then it is the duty of us clergymen," said the other, "to warn people
+to be more on their guard against excess in this direction but not, by
+becoming total abstainers ourselves, to lead our flocks to suppose that
+there is sin in the mere taking of any amount of intoxicating liquors,
+however small."
+
+"I think," said Mr Oliphant, very gravely, "that our duty is something
+beyond, and, may I say, above this.  We live in a peculiarly self-
+indulgent age, when men are exceedingly impatient of anything like a
+restraint upon their appetites and inclinations.  We have, besides this,
+the acknowledged fact that, where other sins slay their thousands,
+drunkenness slays its hundreds of thousands of all ages.  Is it not,
+then, a privilege, (I always prefer to put it rather as a privilege than
+a duty), for us, who are to be as lights in the world, as ensamples to
+our flocks, to take a high stand in this matter, and show that we will
+deny ourselves that which has so insidiously worked the ruin of
+millions, that so we may perhaps win poor fallen creatures, fallen
+through drink, to come out of their miserable slough by crying to them,
+not merely `Come out,' but `Come out and follow us!'"
+
+Mr Oldfield did not answer; but Sir Thomas, turning to the rector,
+said,--
+
+"I am sure this subject is deeply interesting to both you and myself, on
+our dear Frank's account.  You know my views on the subject of total
+abstinence.  Still I feel that there may be exceptional cases, where its
+adoption may be wise, and I could imagine that his might be such a
+case."
+
+"I heartily agree with you," replied Mr Oliphant.
+
+"Oh no, my dear," exclaimed Lady Oldfield; "I am quite sure total
+abstinence would never suit poor Frank; his constitution would not bear
+it; I appeal to you, Dr Portman, is it not so?"
+
+"I am quite of your ladyship's opinion," said the doctor.
+
+"You hear what Dr Portman says," cried her ladyship, turning to the
+rector.
+
+"I do," was the reply; "but that does not alter my conviction.  Medical
+men's views have greatly changed of late years on this subject.  Excuse
+me, Dr Portman, for thus differing from you."
+
+"Really," interposed Mr Oldfield, "I think you must allow the doctor to
+be the best judge of the medical side of the question.  What would you
+say if the doctor on his part were to intrude on your province, and
+question your statements of scriptural truth from the pulpit?"
+
+"I should say," answered Mr Oliphant, "in the first place, that the two
+cases are essentially different.  My statements are drawn from an
+inspired volume, from an express revelation; the opinions of medical men
+are simply the deductions of human reason and observation, and are
+therefore opinions which may be altered or modified.  But, further, I
+should say that I never require my people to receive my statements from
+the pulpit without question or inquiry.  I refer them always to the
+revelation, the inspired record, and bid them search that record for
+themselves.  Now, if the doctor can point me to any inspired medical
+record which lays down a particular system, and declares directly or by
+fair inference against total abstinence, I will at once surrender my
+present position; but as he will not pretend to possess any such
+inspired medical volume, I must still feel myself at liberty to hold
+different views from himself on the medical question."
+
+"I am well aware, my dear sir," said Dr Portman, "that you and I shall
+not agree on this subject, and, of course, I must allow you to be at
+liberty to hold your own opinions; but it does seem to me, I must
+confess, very strange that you should look upon total abstinence as
+universally or generally desirable, when you must be aware that these
+views are held by so very few of the medical profession, and have only
+recently been adopted even by those few."
+
+"I am afraid," said the rector, smiling, "that you are only entangling
+yourself in further difficulties.  Does the recent adoption of a new
+course of treatment by a few prove that it ought not to be generally
+adopted?  What, then, do you say about the change in the treatment of
+fever cases?  I can myself remember the time when the patient was
+treated on the lowering system, and when every breath of air was
+excluded from the sick-room, doors and windows being listed lest the
+slightest change should take place in the stifling atmosphere of the
+bed-room.  And now all is altered; we have the system supported by
+nourishments, and abundance of fresh air let in.  Indeed, it is most
+amusing to see the change which has taken place as regards fresh air;
+many of us sleep with our windows open, which would have been thought
+certain death a few years ago.  I know at this time a medical
+practitioner, (who, by the way, is a total abstainer, and has never
+given any of his patients alcoholic stimulants for the last five-and-
+twenty years), who, at the age of between seventy and eighty, sleeps
+with his window open, and is so hearty that, writing to me a few days
+since, he says, `I sometimes think what shall I do when I get to be an
+old man, being now only in my seventy-fourth year.'  Now, were the
+medical men wrong who began this change in the treatment of fever cases?
+or, because they were few at first, ought they to have abandoned their
+views, and still kept with the majority?  Of course, those who adopt any
+great change will at first be few, especially if that change sets very
+strongly against persons' tastes or prejudices."
+
+"I see that we must agree to differ," said Dr Portman, laughing, and
+rising to take his leave.
+
+When he was gone, Sir Thomas, who had listened very attentively to Mr
+Oliphant's remarks, said,--
+
+"I shall certainly put no hindrance in the way of Frank's becoming a
+total abstainer if you can persuade him to it, and his health does not
+suffer by it."
+
+"Nor I," said Lady Oldfield; "only don't let him sign any pledge.  I've
+a great horror of those pledges.  Surely, my dear Mr Oliphant, you
+would not advise his signing a pledge."
+
+"Indeed, I should advise it most strongly," was the reply; "both for his
+own sake and also for the sake of others."
+
+"But surely, to sign a pledge is to put things on a totally wrong
+foundation," observed Mr John Oldfield; "would not you, as a minister
+of the gospel, prefer that he should base his total abstinence on
+Christian principle rather than trust to a pledge?  Does not the pledge
+usurp the place of divine grace?"
+
+"Not at all," said the rector.  "I would have him abstain on Christian
+principles, as you say; and I would not have him _trust_ to the pledge,
+but I would still have him use it as a support, though not as a
+foundation.  Perhaps an illustration will best explain my meaning.  I
+read some years ago of a fowler who was straying on the shore after sea-
+birds.  He was so engrossed with his sport that he utterly failed to
+mark the rapid incoming of the tide, and when at last he did notice it,
+he found to his dismay that he was completely cut off from the land.
+There was but one chance of life, for he could not swim.  A large
+fragment of rock rose above the waves a few yards behind him; on to this
+he clambered, and placing his gun between his feet, awaited the rising
+of the water.  In a short time the waves had risen nearly to his feet,
+then they covered them; and still they rose as the tide came in higher
+and higher, now round his ankles, next to his knees; and so they kept
+gradually mounting, covering his body higher and higher.  He could mark
+their rise or fall by the brass buttons on his waistcoat; first one
+button disappeared, then another, then a third, then a fourth.  Would
+the waves rise up to his mouth and choke him?  His suspense was
+dreadful.  At last he observed that the topmost button did not disappear
+so rapidly as the rest; the next wave, however, seemed quite to cover
+it, but in a few minutes it became quite uncovered; in a little while
+the button next below became visible, and now he was sure that the tide
+was ebbing, and that he was safe if only he could hold out long enough.
+At last the rock itself became visible, and after many hours he was
+able, almost spent with fatigue, to stagger to the land.  Now, what
+saved that man? was it his gun?  Surely not; it was the rock: _that_ was
+his standing-ground.  But was his gun, therefore, useless?  Assuredly
+not, for it helped to steady him on the rock, though it could not take
+the place of the rock.  Just so with the pledge; it is not the Christian
+abstainer's standing-ground.  Christ alone is that standing-ground.  He
+stands by the grace of Christ; but the pledge, like the gun, helps to
+keep him steady on his standing-ground, the Rock of Ages."
+
+"Well," said Mr Oldfield, "let us grant that there is some force in
+your illustration.  I would further ask how it can be that Frank's
+taking the pledge would be a benefit to others as well as himself?"
+
+"For the same reason that my own signing of the pledge is beneficial,"
+replied the rector.
+
+"Nay," interposed Sir Thomas; "would not your signing the pledge do
+rather harm than good?  Would it not rather weaken your own influence by
+giving people reason to think, (those I mean especially who might not
+know you well), that you had once been intemperate yourself, or that you
+were unable to keep sober, or at any rate moderate, without the help of
+the pledge."
+
+"On the contrary," replied Mr Oliphant, "I look upon those who take the
+pledge as greatly encouraging others who might be inclined to hang back.
+It shows that the stronger are willing to fraternise with the weaker.
+And this is specially the case when those who are known to have never
+been entangled in the snares of drunkenness are willing to take the
+pledge as an encouragement to those who have fallen.  Perhaps you will
+bear with me if I offer you another illustration.  There is a great
+chasm, a raging torrent at the bottom, and a single strong plank across
+it.  Now persons with steady heads can walk over the chasm without
+difficulty, along the naked plank; but there are others who shudder at
+the very thought, and dare not venture--their heads swim, their knees
+tremble, as they approach the edge.  What is to be done?  Why, just put
+a little light hand-rail from a post on either side, and let one who is
+strong of head walk over, resting his hand on the rail; he does not need
+the rail for himself but he uses it just to show how it may be a help,
+and so the timid and the dizzy-headed follow and feel confidence, and
+reach the other side in safety.  Now, suppose the flood at the bottom of
+that chasm to be intemperance, the plank total abstinence, and the rail
+the pledge, and I think you will see that those who use the pledge,
+though they really do not need it to steady themselves, may be a great
+help to the weak, the timid, and the shrinking."
+
+"I certainly," said Sir Thomas, "have never had the matter set before me
+in this light.  I shall think over our conversation; and as regards poor
+Frank, at any rate, I feel sure that, if his health will bear it, total
+abstinence will be the safest, if not the best thing for him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+THE TEMPTER.
+
+Juniper Graves was under-groom at Greymoor Park.  He was a very fine
+fellow in his own eyes.  His parents had given him the name of Juniper
+under the impression that it meant something very striking, and would
+distinguish their son from the vulgar herd.  What it exactly signified,
+or what illustrious person had ever borne it before, they would have
+been puzzled to say.  So he rejoiced in the name of Juniper, and his
+language was in keeping with it.  High-sounding words had ever been his
+passion--a passion that grew with his growth; so that his conversation
+was habitually spiced with phrases and expressions in which there was
+abundance of sound, but generally an equal lack of sense.  Too full of
+himself to be willing to keep patiently plodding on like ordinary
+people, he had run through a good many trades without being master of
+any.  Once he was a pastry-cook; at another time a painter; and then an
+auctioneer--which last business he held to the longest of any, as giving
+him full scope for exhibiting his graces of language.  He had abandoned
+it, however, in consequence of some rather biting remarks which had come
+to his ears respecting the choice and suitableness of his epithets.  And
+now he was groom at the hall, and had found it to his advantage to
+ingratiate himself with Frank Oldfield, by rendering him all sorts of
+handy services; and as there were few things which he could not do, or
+pretend to do, his young master viewed him with particular favour, and
+made more of a companion of him than was good for either.  Juniper was a
+sly but habitual drunkard.  He managed, however, so to regulate his
+intemperance as never to be outwardly the worse for liquor when his
+services were required by Sir Thomas or Lady Oldfield, or when excess
+was likely to bring him into trouble.  When, however, the family was
+away from the hall, he would transgress more openly; so that his sin
+became a scandal in the neighbourhood, and brought upon him the severe
+censure of Mr Oliphant, who threatened to acquaint the squire with his
+conduct if he did not amend.  Juniper's pride was mortally wounded by
+this rebuke--he never forgot nor forgave it.  For other reasons also he
+hated the rector.  In the first place, because Mr Oliphant was a total
+abstainer; and further, because he suspected that it was through Mr
+Oliphant's representations that he had failed in obtaining the office of
+postmaster at a neighbouring town, which situation he had greatly
+coveted, as likely to make him a person of some little importance.  So
+he hated the rector and his family with all the venom of a little mind.
+No sooner had he discovered the attachment between Frank and Mary
+Oliphant, than he resolved to do all in his power to bring about a
+rupture; partly because he felt pretty sure that a closer intimacy
+between Frank and the Oliphants would be certain to loosen the ties
+which bound his young master to himself, and partly because he
+experienced a savage delight in the thought of wounding the rector
+through his daughter.  He soon noticed the restraint which Frank was
+putting on himself in the matter of drinking beer and wine, and he
+resolved to break it down.  He was quite sure that Mary Oliphant would
+never marry a drunkard.  So he lost no opportunity of insinuating his
+own views on the subject of total abstinence, and also constantly
+laboured to bring his young master into contact with scenes and persons
+likely to lead him into free indulgence in intoxicating drinks.  His
+success, however, was but small, till the day of the harvest-home, and
+then he resolved to make a great effort.  He contrived to get himself
+appointed to the office of waiter to Frank in the second tent, and took
+special charge of the drinkables.  The beer served out on these
+occasions was, by Sir Thomas' express directions, of only a moderate
+strength; but Juniper had contrived to secrete a jug of the very
+strongest ale in a place where he could easily get at it.  With this jug
+in hand he was constantly slipping behind his master and filling up his
+glass, while Frank was busily engaged in seeing that the wants of his
+guests were duly supplied.  Excited by the heat of the day and the whole
+scene, the poor young man kept raising the glass to his lips, quite
+unconscious of the way in which his servant was keeping it filled, till
+at last he lost all self-control, and launched out into the wildest
+mirth and the most uproarious buffoonery.  It was then that Juniper
+Graves, grinning with malicious delight, sought out Mary Oliphant, and
+brought her to gaze on her lover's degradation.
+
+"Now," said he to himself, "I've done it.  There'll be no more love-
+making atween them two arter this, I reckon.  A very preposterous plan
+this of mine--very preposterous."
+
+But great as was the triumph of Juniper at the success of his efforts on
+this occasion, this very success was well nigh bringing about a total
+defeat.  For it came to Frank's ears, by a side wind, as such things so
+often do, that his man had been playing him a trick, and had been
+filling up his glass continually with strong ale when he was not
+conscious of it.
+
+"It were a burning shame, it were, to put upon the young master in that
+way," he overheard a kind-hearted mother say, one of the tenant's wives.
+So he taxed Juniper with it, but the man stoutly denied it.
+
+"Dear me, sir; to think of my behaving in such a uncompromising way to
+any gentleman.  It's only them ill-natured folks' prevarications.  I'll
+assure you, sir, I only just took care that you had a little in your
+glass to drink healths with, as was becoming; and I'm sure I was vexed
+as any one when I saw how the heat and your weakness together, sir, had
+combined to bring you into a state of unfortunate oblivion."
+
+"Well," replied Frank, "you must look-out, Master Juniper, I can tell
+you.  If I find you at any of your tricks again, I shall make short work
+with you."
+
+But Juniper had no intention of being foiled.  He would be more wary,
+but not less determined.  Upon two things he was thoroughly resolved--
+first, that Frank should not become an abstainer; and secondly, that he
+should not marry Mary Oliphant.  He was greatly staggered, however, when
+he discovered that his young master, after the affair at the harvest-
+home, had contrived to make his peace at the rectory.
+
+"I must bide my time," he said to himself; "but I'll circumscribe 'em
+yet, as sure as my name's Juniper Graves."
+
+So he laid himself out in every possible way to please Frank, and to
+make himself essential to his comforts and pleasures.  For a while he
+cautiously avoided any allusion to total abstinence, and was only
+careful to see that beer and spirits were always at hand, to be had by
+Frank at a moment's notice.  If the weather was hot, there was sure to
+be a jug of shandy-gaff or some other equally enticing compound ready to
+be produced just at the time when its contents would be most
+appreciated.  If the weather was cold, then, in the time of greatest
+need, Juniper had always an extra flask of spirits to supplement what
+his master carried.  And the crafty fellow so contrived it that Frank
+should feel that, while he was quite moderate in the presence of his
+parents and their guests, he might go a little over the border with his
+groom without any danger.
+
+Things were just in this state at the time when the conversation took
+place at the hall, which resulted in the permission to Mr Oliphant to
+persuade Frank--if he could--to become a pledged abstainer.  A day or
+two after that conversation, Frank walked over to the rectory.  He found
+Mary busily engaged in gathering flowers to decorate the tables at a
+school feast.  His heart, somehow or other, smote him as he looked at
+her bright sweet face.  She was like a pure flower herself; and was
+there no danger that the hot breath of his own intemperance would wither
+out the bloom which made her look so beautiful?  But he tossed away the
+reflection with a wave of his flowing hair, and said cheerily,--
+
+"Cannot I share, or lighten your task, dear Mary?"
+
+"Thank you--yes--if you would hold the basket while I gather.  These
+autumn flowers have not quite the brightness of the summer ones, but I
+think I love them more, because they remind me that winter is coming,
+and that I must therefore prize them doubly."
+
+"Ah, but we should not carry winter thoughts about us before winter
+comes.  We should look back upon the brightness, not forward to the
+gloom."
+
+"Oh, Frank," she replied, looking earnestly at him, with entreaty in her
+tearful eyes, "don't talk of looking back upon the brightness.  We are
+meant to look forwards, not to the gloom indeed, but beyond it, to that
+blessed land where there shall be no gloom and no shadows."
+
+He was silent.
+
+"You asked me just now, dear Frank," she continued, "if you could
+lighten my task.  You could do more than that--you could take a load off
+my heart, if you would."
+
+"Indeed!" he exclaimed; "tell me how."
+
+"And will you take it off if I tell you?"
+
+"Surely," he replied; but not so warmly as she would fain have had him
+say it.
+
+"You remember," she added, "the day you dined with us a long time ago,
+when you asked papa about becoming an abstainer?"
+
+"Yes; I remember it well, and that my mother would not hear of it, so,
+as in duty bound, I gave up all thoughts of it at once."
+
+"Well, dear Frank, papa has been having a long talk on the very subject
+at the hall, and has convinced both your father and mother that total
+abstinence is not the objectionable thing they have hitherto thought it
+to be.  Oh, dear Frank, there is no hindrance _there_ then, if you still
+think as you once seemed to think on this subject."
+
+The colour came into his face, and his brow was troubled as he said,--
+
+"Why should you distress yourself about this matter, my own dear Mary.
+Cannot you trust me?  Cannot you believe that I will be strictly
+moderate?  Have I not promised?"
+
+"You _have_ promised; and I would hope and believe that--that--" She
+could not go on, her tears choked her words.
+
+"Ah, I know what you would say," he replied passionately; "you would
+reproach me with my failure--my one failure, my failure under
+extraordinary excitement and weakness--I thought you had forgiven me
+_that_.  Have I not kept my promise since then?  Cannot you trust me,
+unless I put my hand to a formal pledge?  If honour, love, religion,
+will not bind me, do you think that signing a pledge will do it?"
+
+"I have not asked you to sign any pledge," she replied sorrowfully;
+"though I should indeed rejoice to see you do it.  I only hoped--oh, how
+fervently!--that you might see it to be your wisdom, your safety, to
+become a total abstainer.  Oh, dearest Frank, you are so kind, so open,
+so unsuspecting, that you are specially liable to be taken off your
+guard, unless fortified by a strength superior to your own.  Have you
+really sought that strength?  Oh, ask God to show you your duty in this
+matter.  It would make me so very, very happy were you to be led to
+renounce at once and for ever those stimulants which have ruined
+thousands of noble souls."
+
+"Dearest Mary, were this necessary, I would promise it you in a moment.
+But it is not necessary.  I am no longer a child.  I am not acting in
+the dark.  I see what is my duty.  I see that to exceed moderation is a
+sin.  I have had my fall and my warnings, and to be forewarned is to be
+forearmed.  Trust me, dear Mary--trust me without a pledge, trust me
+without total abstinence.  You shall not have cause to blush for me
+again.  Believe me, I love you too well."
+
+And with this she was forced to be content.  Alas! poor Frank; he little
+knew the grasp which the insidious taste for strong drink had fixed upon
+him.  He _liked_ it once, he _loved_ it now.  And beside this he shrank
+from the cross, which pledged total abstinence would call upon him to
+take up.  His engaging manners made him universally popular, and he
+shrank from anything that would endanger or diminish that popularity.
+He winced under a frown, but he withered under a sneer; still he had
+secret misgivings that he should fall, that he should disgrace himself;
+that he should forfeit Mary's love for ever if he did not take the
+decided step; and more than once he half resolved to make the bold
+plunge, and sign the pledge, and come out nobly and show his colours
+like a man.
+
+It was while this half resolve was on him that he was one evening
+returning home after a day's fishing, Juniper Graves being with him.  He
+had refused the spirit-flask which his servant held out to him more than
+once, alleging disinclination.  At last he said,--
+
+"I've been seriously thinking, Juniper, of becoming a total abstainer;
+and it would do you a great deal of good if you were to be one too."
+
+The only reply on the part of Juniper was an explosion of laughter,
+which seemed as if it would tear him in pieces.  One outburst of
+merriment followed another, till he was obliged to lean against a tree
+for support.  Frank became quite angry.
+
+"What _do_ you mean by making such an abominable fool of yourself;" he
+cried.
+
+"Oh dear, oh dear," laughed Graves, the tears running over in the
+extremity of his real or pretended amusement, "you must pardon me, sir;
+indeed, you must.  I really couldn't help it; it did put me so in mind
+of Jerry Ogden, the Methodist parson.  Mr Frank and his servant
+Juniper, two whining, methodistical, parsimonious teetotallers! oh dear,
+it _was_ rich."  And here he relapsed into another explosion.
+
+"Methodist parson!  I really don't know what you mean, sir," cried
+Frank, beginning to get fairly exasperated.  "You seem to me quite to
+forget yourself.  If you don't know better manners, the sooner you take
+yourself off the better."
+
+"Oh, sir, I'm very sorry, but really you must excuse me; it did seem so
+very comical.  _You_ a total abstainer, Mr Frank, and me a-coming arter
+you.  I think I sees you a-telling James to put the water on the table,
+and then you says, `The water stands with you, Colonel Coleman.'"
+
+"Don't talk so absurdly," said Frank, amused in spite of himself at the
+idea of the water-party, with himself for the host.  "And what has my
+becoming a total abstainer to do with Jerry What-do-you-call-him, the
+Methodist parson?"
+
+"Oh, just this, sir.  Jerry Ogden's one of those long-faced gentlemen as
+turns up their eyes and their noses at us poor miserable sinners as
+takes a little beer to our dinners.  Ah! to hear him talk you'd have
+fancied he was too good to breathe in the same altitude with such as me.
+Such lots of good advice he has for us heathens, such sighing and
+groaning over us poor deluded drinkers of allegorical liquors.  Ah! but
+he's a tidy little cask of his own hid snug out of the way.  It's just
+the case with them all."
+
+"I'm really much obliged to you," said his master, laughing, "for
+comparing me to Jerry Ogden.  He seems, from your account, to have been
+a regular hypocrite; but that does not show that total abstinence is not
+a good thing when people take it up honestly."
+
+"Bless your simplicity, sir," said the other; "they're all pretty much
+alike."
+
+"Now there, Juniper, I know you are wrong.  Mr Oliphant has many men in
+his society who are thoroughly honest teetotallers, men who are truly
+reformed, and, more than that, thorough christians."
+
+"Reformed!  Christians!" sneered Juniper, venomously; "a pretty likely
+thing indeed.  You don't know them teetotallers as well as I do, sir.
+`Oh dear, no; not a drop, not a drop: wouldn't touch it for the world.'
+But they manage to have it on the sly for all that.  I've no faith in
+'em at all.  I'd rather be as I am, though I says it as shouldn't say
+it, an honest fellow as gets drunk now and then, and ain't ashamed to
+own it, than one of your canting teetotallers.  Why, they're such an
+amphibious set, there's no knowing where to have them."
+
+"Amphibious?" said his master, laughing; "why, I should have thought
+`aquatic' would have been a better word, as they profess to confine
+themselves to the water; unless you mean, indeed, that they are only
+half water animals."
+
+"Oh, sir," said Graves, rather huffed, "it was only a phraseology of
+mine, meaning that there was no dependence to be placed on 'em."
+
+"Well but, Juniper, I am not speaking of hypocrites or sham
+teetotallers, but of the real ones.  There's Mr Oliphant and the whole
+family at the rectory, you'll not pretend, I suppose, that _they_ drink
+on the sly?"
+
+"I wouldn't by no means answer for that," was the reply; "that depends
+on circumstantials.  There's many sorts of drinks as we poor ignorant
+creatures calls intoxicating which is quite the thing with your tip-top
+teetotallers.  There's champagne, that's quite strict teetotal; then
+there's cider, then there's cherry-brandy; and if that don't do, then
+there's teetotal physic."
+
+"Teetotal physic!  I don't understand you."
+
+"Don't you, sir? that's like your innocence.  Why, it's just this way.
+There's a lady teetotaller, and she's a little out of sorts; so she
+sends a note to the doctor, and he sends back a nice bottle of stuff.
+It's uncommon good and spirituous-like to smell at, but then it's
+medicine, only the drugs ain't down in what the chemists call their
+`Farming-up-here.'"
+
+"I never heard of that before," remarked Frank.
+
+"No, I don't suppose, sir, as ever you did.  And then there's the
+teetotal gents; they does it much more free and easy.  They've got what
+the Catholics calls a `dispensary' from their Pope, (and their Pope's
+the doctor), to take just whatever they likes as a medicine--oh, only as
+a medicine; so they carries about with 'em a doctor's superscription,
+which says just this: `Let the patient take as much beer, or wine, or
+spirits, as he can swallow.'"
+
+"A pretty picture you have drawn," laughed Frank.  "I'm afraid there's
+not much chance of making _you_ an abstainer."
+
+"Nor you neither, Mr Frank, I hope.  Why, I should be ashamed to see my
+cheerful, handsome young master, (you must forgive me, sir, for being so
+bold), turned into a sour-looking, turnip-faced, lantern-jawed, whining
+teetotaller."
+
+"Why, I thought you said just now," said the other, "that they all take
+drink on the sly; if that's the case, it can't be total abstinence that
+spoils their beauty."
+
+Juniper looked a little at fault, but immediately replied,--
+
+"Well, sir, at any rate total abstinence will never do for you.  Why,
+you'll have no peace up at the hall, especially in the shooting season,
+if you mean to take up with them exotic notions.  Be a man, sir, and
+asseverate your independence.  Show that you can take too much or too
+little as you have a mind.  I wouldn't be a slave, sir.  `Britons never
+shall be slaves.'"
+
+Here the conversation closed.  The tempter had so far gained his end
+that he had made Frank disinclined to join himself at present to the
+body of stanch abstainers.  He would wait and see--he preferred
+moderation, it was more manly, more self-reliant.  Ah, there was his
+grievous mistake.  Self-reliant! yes, but that self was blinded, cheated
+by Satan; it was already on the tempter's side.  So Frank put off, at
+any rate for the present, joining the abstainers.  He was, however, very
+watchful over himself never openly to transgress.  He loved Mary, and
+could not bear the thoughts of losing her, but in very deed he loved his
+own self-indulgence more.  There was a constraint, however, when they
+met.  He could not fully meet her deep truthful eyes with a steady gaze
+of his own.  Her words would often lead him to prayer, but then he
+regarded iniquity in his heart--he did not wish to be taken at his
+prayer--he did not wish to be led into pledged abstinence, or even into
+undeviating moderation at all times--he wished to keep in reserve a
+right to fuller indulgence.  Poor Mary! she was not happy; she felt
+there was something wrong.  If she tried to draw out that something from
+Frank, his only reply was an assurance of ardent affection and devotion.
+There was no apparent evil on the surface of his life.  He was regular
+at church, steady at home, moderate in what he drank at his father's
+table and at other houses.  She felt, indeed, that he had no real
+sympathy with her on the highest subjects, but he never refused to
+listen, only he turned away with evident relief from religious to other
+topics.  Yet all this while he was getting more deeply entangled in the
+meshes of the net which the drink, in the skilful hands of Juniper
+Graves, was weaving round him.  That cruel tempter was biding his time.
+He saw with malicious delight that the period must arrive before very
+long when his young master's drinking excesses would no longer be
+confined to the darkness and the night, but would break out in open
+daylight, and then, then for his revenge.
+
+It was now between two and three years since the harvest-home which had
+ended so unhappily.  Frank was twenty-one and Mary Oliphant eighteen.
+This was in the year in which we first introduced them to our readers,
+the same year in which it was intended that Hubert Oliphant should join
+his uncle Abraham, at any rate for a time, in South Australia.  For the
+last six months dim rumours, getting gradually more clear and decided,
+had found their way to the rectory that Frank Oldfield was occasionally
+drinking to excess.  Mary grew heart-sick, and began to lose her health
+through anxiety and sorrow; yet there was nothing, so far, sufficiently
+definite to make her sure that Frank, since his promise to observe
+strict moderation, had ever over-passed the bounds of sobriety.  He
+never, of course, alluded to the subject himself; and when he could not
+help remarking on her altered looks, he would evade any questions she
+put to him on the painful subject, or meet them by an appeal to her
+whether she could prove anything against him; and by the observation
+that nothing was easier than to spread rumours against a person's
+character.  She was thus often silenced, but never satisfied.
+
+June had come--a bright sky remained for days with scarce a cloud; the
+hay-makers were everywhere busy, and the fields were fragrant with the
+sweet perfume of the mown grass.  It was on a quiet evening that Mary
+was returning home from a cottage where she had been to visit a sick
+parishioner of her father's.  Her way lay in part through a little
+plantation skirting a hay-field belonging to the Greymoor estate.  She
+had just reached the edge of the plantation, and was about to climb over
+a stile into a lane, when she heard loud and discordant voices, which
+made her blood run cold; for one of them, she could not doubt, was
+Frank's.
+
+"This way, Mr Frank, this way," cried another voice, which she knew at
+once to be that of Juniper Graves.
+
+"I tell you," replied the first voice, thickly, "I shan't go that way; I
+shall go home, I shall.  Let me alone, I tell you,"--then there followed
+a loud imprecation.
+
+"No, no--this way, sir--there's Miss Mary getting over the stile; she's
+waiting for you, sir, to help her over."
+
+"Very good, Juniper; you're a regular brick," said the other voice,
+suddenly changing to a tone of maudlin affection; "where's my dear
+Mary--ah, there she is!" and the speaker staggered towards the stile.
+Mary saw him indistinctly through the hedge--she would have fled, but
+terror and misery chained her to the spot.  A few moments after and
+Frank, in his shirt-sleeves, (he had been joining the hay-makers), made
+his way up to her.  His face was flushed, his eyes inflamed and staring
+wildly, his hair disordered, and his whole appearance brutalised.
+
+"Let me help--help--you, my beloved Mary, over shtile--ah, yes--here's
+Juniper--jolly good fellow, Juniper--help her, Juniper--can't keep
+shteady--for life of me."
+
+He clutched at her dress; but now the spell was loosed, she sprang over
+the stile, and cast one look back.  There stood her lover, holding out
+his arms with an exaggerated show of tenderness, and mumbling out words
+of half-articulate fondness; and behind him, a smile of triumphant
+malice on his features, which haunted her for years, was Graves, the
+tempter, the destroyer of his unhappy master.  She cared to see no more,
+but, with a cry of bitter distress, she rushed away as though some
+spirit of evil were close behind her, and never stopped till she had
+gained the rectory.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+FAREWELL.
+
+There are impressions cut deeper into the heart by the sudden stroke of
+some special trial than any made by the continuous pressure of
+afflictions, however heavy; impressions which nothing in this world can
+efface--wounds, like the three-cornered thrust of the bayonet, which
+will not heal up.  Such was the keen, piercing sorrow which the sight of
+Frank in his drunkenness had stabbed deep into the soul of Mary
+Oliphant.  The wound it had made would never heal.  Oh, miserable drink!
+which turns the bright, the noble, the intellectual creatures of God
+into worse than madmen; for the madman's reason is gone--we pity, but we
+cannot blame him; but in the victim of strong drink reason is suspended
+but not destroyed, and in all the distortion, grimaces, reelings,
+babblings, ravings of the miserable wretch while his sin is on him, we
+see a self-inflicted insanity, and a degradation which is not a
+misfortune but a crime.
+
+The day after that miserable meeting at the stile, Frank called at the
+rectory, the picture of wretchedness and despair.  Mrs Oliphant came to
+him, and told him that Mary declined seeing him; indeed, that she was so
+utterly unnerved and ill, that she would have been unequal to an
+interview even had she thought it right to grant him one.
+
+"Is there no hope for me, then?" he asked.  "Have I quite sinned away
+even the possibility of forgiveness?"
+
+"I cannot fully answer for Mary," replied Mrs Oliphant; "but I should
+be wrong if I said anything that could lead you to suppose that she can
+ever again look upon you as she once did."
+
+"Is it really so?" he said gloomily.  "Has this one transgression
+forfeited her love for ever?  Is there no place for repentance?  I do
+not justify myself.  I do not attempt to make less of the fault.  I can
+thoroughly understand her horror, her disgust.  I loathe myself as a
+vile beast, and worse than a beast.  But yet, can I by this one act have
+cut through _every_ cord that bound her heart to mine?"
+
+"Excuse me, dear Frank," said the other; "but you mistake in speaking of
+_one_ transgression--one act.  It is because poor Mary feels, as I feel
+too, that this act must be only one of many acts of the like kind,
+though the rest may have been concealed from us, that she dare not trust
+her happiness in your keeping."
+
+"And who has any right," he asked warmly, "to say that I am in the habit
+of exceeding?"
+
+"Do you deny yourself that it is so?" she inquired, looking steadily but
+sorrowfully at him.
+
+His eyes dropped before hers, and then he said,--
+
+"I do not see that any one has a right to put such a question to me."
+
+"Not a right!" exclaimed Mrs Oliphant.  "Have not _I_ a right, dear
+Frank, as Mary's mother, to put such a question?  I know that I have no
+right to turn inquisitor as regards your conduct and actions in general.
+But oh, surely, when you know what has happened, when you remember your
+repeated promises, and how, alas! they have been broken; when you call
+to mind that Mary has expressly promised to me, and declared to you,
+that she will never marry a drunkard,--can you think that I, the mother
+whom God has appointed to guard the happiness of my darling daughter,
+have no right to ask you whether or no you are free from that habit
+which you cannot indulge in and at the same time honestly claim the hand
+of my beloved child?"
+
+Frank for a long time made no answer; when he did reply, he still evaded
+the question.
+
+"I have done wrong," he said; "grievously wrong.  I acknowledge it.  I
+could ask Mary's pardon for it on my knees, and humble myself in the
+dust before her.  I _might_ plead, in part excuse, or, at any rate,
+palliation of my fault, the heat of the weather and thirsty nature of
+the work I was engaged in, which led me into excess before I was aware
+of what I was doing.  But I will not urge that.  I will take every
+blame.  I will throw myself entirely on her mercy; and surely human
+creatures should not be unmerciful since God is so merciful."
+
+"I grieve, dear Frank, to hear you speak in this way," said Mrs
+Oliphant, very gravely and sadly; "you should go on your knees and
+humble yourself in the dust, not before poor sinners, such as I and my
+child are, but before Him who alone can pardon your sin.  I think you
+are deceiving yourself.  I fear so.  It is not that Mary is void of
+pity.  She does not take upon herself to condemn you--it is not her
+province; but that does not make her feel that she can look upon you as
+one who could really make her happy.  Alas! it is one of the miserable
+things connected with the drink, that those who have become its slaves
+cannot be trusted.  I may seem to speak harshly, but I _must_ speak out.
+Your expressions of sorrow and penitence cannot secure your future
+moderation.  You mean _now_ what you say; but what guarantee have we
+that you will not again transgress?"
+
+"My own pledged word," replied Frank, proudly, "that henceforth I will
+be all that Mary would have me be."
+
+"Except a pledged total abstainer," said Mrs Oliphant, quietly.
+
+Frank remained silent for a few moments, then he said,--
+
+"If I cannot control myself without a pledge, I shall never do so _with_
+one."
+
+"No, not by the pledge only, or chiefly.  But it would be a help.  It
+would be a check.  It would be a something to appeal to, as being an
+open declaration of what you were resolved to keep to.  But oh, I fear
+that you do not wish to put such a restraint upon yourself, as you must
+do, if you would really be what you would have us believe you mean to
+be.  Were it otherwise, you would not hesitate--for Mary's sake, for
+your own peace's sake--to renounce at once, and for ever, and entirely,
+that drink which has already been to you, ay, and to us all, a source of
+so much misery.  Dear Frank, I say it once for all, I never could allow
+my beloved child to cast in her lot for life with one of whom I have
+reason to fear that he is, or may become, the slave of that drink which
+has driven peace, and joy, and comfort out of thousands of English
+homes."
+
+"But why should you fear this of me?" persisted Frank.  "Within the last
+three years I have fallen twice.  I do not deny it.  But surely two
+falls in that long space of time do not show a habit of excess.  On each
+occasion I was overcome--taken off my guard.  I have now learned, and
+thoroughly, I trust, the lesson to be watchful.  I only ask for one more
+trial.  I want to show Mary, I want to show you all, that I can still be
+strictly sober, strictly moderate, without total abstinence, without a
+pledge.  And oh, do not let it be said that the mother and daughter of a
+minister of the gospel were less ready to pardon than their heavenly
+Master."
+
+"Oh, Frank," cried Mrs Oliphant, "how grievously you mistake us!
+Pardon!  Yes; what are we that we should withhold pity or pardon?  But
+surely it is one thing to forgive, and quite another thing to entrust
+one's happiness, or the happiness of one's child, into hands which we
+dare not hope can steadily maintain it.  I can say no more.  Write to
+Mary, and she will answer you calmly and fully by letter, as she could
+not do were she to meet you now."
+
+Poor Frank!  Why did he not renounce at once that enticing stimulant
+which had already worked him so much misery?  Was it worth while letting
+so paltry an indulgence separate for ever between himself and one whom
+he so dearly loved?  Why would he not pledge himself at once to total
+abstinence?  There was a time when he would have done so--that time when
+he spoke on the subject to the rector, and made the attempt at his own
+home.  But now a spell seemed to hold him back.  He would not or could
+not see the necessity of relinquishing that which he had come to crave
+and love more than his daily food.
+
+"I must use it," he said to himself; "but there is no reason why I
+should abuse it."
+
+He wrote to Mary and told her so.  He told her that he was now fully
+alive to his own weakness, and that she might depend on his watchfulness
+and moderation, imploring her to give him one, and but one, more trial.
+He would watch, he would strive, he would pray to be strictly moderate.
+She should never have cause to reproach him again.
+
+She replied:--
+
+  "DEAR FRANK,--It would be cruelty in me were I to hold out any hope to
+  you that I can ever again be more to you than one who must always take
+  a deep interest in your welfare, and must feel truly grateful to you
+  for having saved her life.  That you _mean_ now to be all that you
+  promise, I do not doubt; but that you really _will_ be so, I dare not
+  hope.  You have been seen by me twice in such a condition as made me
+  shrink from you with terror and disgust.  Were we to be married, and
+  you should be betrayed into excess, the first time, you would be
+  overwhelmed; the second time, you would be ashamed and pained; the
+  third time, you would feel it, but not very acutely.  You would get
+  used, by degrees, to my witnessing such degradation; it would be
+  killing me, but it would be making less and less impression upon you.
+  I dare not run the terrible risk.  I dare not join myself to you in a
+  bond which could never be severed, however aggravated might be my
+  misery and your sin.  Oh, Frank, my heart is well nigh broken!  I have
+  loved you, and do love you still.  Let us be one in heaven, though we
+  never can be so here.  Pray, oh, pray for grace to resist your
+  temptation!  Ask to be made a true follower of the Lord Jesus, and you
+  will be guided aright, and we _shall_ meet then in that bright land
+  where all shall rejoice together who have, by grace, fought the fight
+  and won the victory here.--Sincerely yours, MARY OLIPHANT."
+
+Frank read this letter over and over again, and groaned in the fulness
+of his distress.  She had not asked him to become an abstainer.  Was it
+because she felt that it was hopeless?  _He_ knew it to be so.  He knew
+that if he signed the pledge he should only add a broken vow to his
+other sins.  He felt that, dearly as he loved Mary, he could not forego
+all intoxicating drinks even for her sake.  He dared not pray that he
+might be able to abstain, for he felt that he should not really wish for
+the accomplishment of such a prayer.  Habitual indulgence had taken all
+the stiffness out of his will.  And yet the thought of losing Mary was
+utter misery.  He leaned his head on his hands, and gazed for a long
+time on her letter.  At last there came a thought into his mind.  All
+might not yet be lost.  There was still one way of escape.  He rose up
+comforted, and thrusting the letter into his pocket, sought out his
+mother.  He found her alone.  She looked at him with deep anxiety and
+pitying love, as well she might, when she marked the gloom that had
+settled down on his once happy face.  Alas she knew its cause too well.
+She knew that he was on the downward path of intemperance, and she knew
+how rapid was the descent.  She was well aware that his sinful excess
+had been the cause of the breaking off of his engagement with the
+rector's daughter.  Oh, how her heart ached for him.  She would have
+given all she possessed to see him what he once was.  She was prepared
+for any sacrifice, if only he could be reclaimed before it should be too
+late.
+
+"Dearest mother," he said, throwing himself down beside her, clasping
+her knees, and looking up imploringly into her face, "I'm a miserable
+creature, on the road to ruin, body and soul, unless something comes to
+stop me."
+
+"Oh, my boy, my boy!" cried his mother, bursting into tears; "do not say
+so.  You have gone astray; but so have we all, one way or other.  There
+is hope for you if you return.  Surely the evil habit cannot be already
+so strong upon you that you cannot summon strength and resolution to
+break through it."
+
+"Oh, you do not, you cannot know what a helpless creature I am!" was his
+reply.  "When once I begin to taste, every good resolution melts away in
+a moment."
+
+"Then give up such things, and abstain altogether, my beloved Frank, if
+that be the case," said Lady Oldfield.
+
+"I cannot," he replied bitterly.  "I cannot keep from them, they must be
+kept from me, and then I should have some chance."
+
+"But, my dear boy, how can that always be?  You cannot expect your
+father to banish beer and wine from his table, and to refuse to set them
+before his guests.  You cannot expect that he should debar himself the
+moderate use of these things because you have, unhappily, learned to
+take them immoderately."
+
+"No.  I cannot, of course.  I cannot, and I do not expect it, and
+therefore I am come to put before you, my dearest mother, what I believe
+will be my only chance.  You know that Hubert Oliphant is going to join
+his Uncle Abraham in South Australia.  He sails in October.  He is going
+by a total abstinence ship, which will not therefore carry any
+intoxicating drinks.  Will you and my dear father consent to my going
+with Hubert?  My unhappy taste would be broken through by the time the
+voyage was over, as I should never so much as see beer, or wine, or
+spirits; and the fresh sea-air would be a better tonic than porter,
+wine, or ale; so that you would have no need to fear about my health."
+
+Lady Oldfield did not reply for several minutes.  She was, at first,
+utterly confounded at such a proposal from the son whom she idolised,
+and she was on the point of at once scouting the idea as altogether wild
+and out of the question.  But a few moments' reflection made her pause.
+Terrible as was the thought of the separation, the prospect of her son's
+becoming a confirmed drunkard was more terrible still.  This plan, if
+carried out, might result in Frank's return to habitual sobriety.  Ought
+she therefore to refuse her sanction absolutely and at once?  At last
+she said,--
+
+"And who, my dearest boy, has put such a strange thought into your head?
+And how long do you mean to remain away?  And what are you to do when
+you reach Australia?"
+
+"No one has suggested the thing to me," he replied.  "It came into my
+mind as I was thinking over all the misery the drink has brought on me
+of late.  If I could go with Hubert, you know what a friend and support
+I should have in him.  I might remain in the colony two or three years,
+and then come back again, please God, a thoroughly sober man; and then
+perhaps dear Mary would relent, and give me back my old place in her
+heart again."
+
+Lady Oldfield drew him close to her, and clasping her arms round him,
+wept long and bitterly.
+
+"Oh, my boy, my Frank!" she exclaimed; "how shall I bear to part with
+you?  Yet it may be that this is God's doing; that he has put this into
+your heart; and if so, if it should be for your deliverance from your
+unhappy habit, I dare not say `No.'  But I cannot tell what your father
+will say.  I will put the matter before him, however, and I am sure he
+will do what is wise and right."
+
+Sir Thomas did not refuse his consent.  He had felt so keenly the
+disgrace which his son's increasing excesses were bringing upon the
+family, that, sorely as he grieved over the thoughts of parting with
+Frank, he was willing that he should join Hubert Oliphant in his voyage,
+hoping that the high character and Christian example of the rector's son
+might be of benefit to his poor unhappy and erring child.  Frank's
+countenance brightened when he had obtained his father's consent, and he
+at once made known his purpose to Hubert Oliphant, and asked his advice
+and help, begging him also to intercede for him with Mary that she would
+allow him to hope that, if he returned thoroughly reformed, she would
+consent to their engagement being renewed.  Hubert, as well as his
+father, had felt the deepest pity for Frank, in spite of his grievous
+falls, specially when they remembered how, but for his own mother's
+opposition, he might now have been one of their little temperance band,
+standing firm, happy himself, and helping to make others happy.  They
+therefore gladly encouraged him to carry out his purpose, promising that
+Hubert should introduce him to his Uncle Abraham, who might find for
+him, while he remained in the colony, some employment suitable to his
+station, where Hubert and his uncle could support and strengthen him by
+companionship and counsel.  And would Mary hold out any hopes?  Poor
+Mary, she loved him still.  Oh, how dearly!  Could she refuse him all
+encouragement?  No.  But she dared not promise unconditionally to be to
+him as in former days.  She would not renew the engagement now; but she
+would wait and see the issue of his present plans.
+
+Thus matters stood, when the last week came that Frank and Hubert would
+spend in their English homes.  Mary and Frank had met once or twice
+since his voyage had been decided on, but it was in the presence of
+others.  These were sorrowful meetings, yet there was the glow of a
+subdued hope, to make them not altogether dark to those who, but for the
+miserable tyranny of the drink, might now have been bright with happy
+anticipations of the future.
+
+And now it was a sweet autumn evening, when every sight and sound was
+plaintive with the foreshadowings of a coming winter--the sunset hues,
+the lights and shadows, the first decaying leaves, the notes of birds,
+the hum of insects.  Everything was very still as Mary again trod the
+little path from the cottage of the poor woman whom she had been
+visiting on the evening of Frank's last sad fall.  She had nearly
+reached the stile, her eyes bent on the ground, and her heart full of
+sorrowful memories and forebodings, when she was startled by hearing the
+sound of passionate sobbings.  She raised her eyes.  Kneeling by the
+stile, his head buried in his hands, was Frank Oldfield; his whole frame
+shook with the violence of his emotion, and she could hear her own name
+murmured again and again in the agony of his self-reproach or prayer.
+How sadly beautiful he looked!  And oh, how her heart overflowed with
+pitying tenderness towards him.
+
+"Frank," she said; but she could add no more.
+
+He started up, for he had not heard her light tread.  His hair was
+wildly tossed back, his eyes filled with tears, his lips quivering.
+
+"You here, Mary," he gasped.  "I little thought of this.  I little
+thought to meet you here.  I came to take a parting look at the spot
+where I had seen you last as my own.  Here it was that I sinned and
+fooled away my happiness, and here I would pour out the bitterness of my
+fruitless sorrow."
+
+"Not fruitless sorrow, I trust, dear Frank," she said gently.  "It
+cannot be fruitless, if it be a genuine sorrow for sin.  Oh, perhaps
+there is hope before us yet!"
+
+"Do _you_ say so, Mary?  Do _you_ bid me hope?  Well, I will live on
+that hope.  I ask no promise from you, I do not expect it.  I am glad
+that we have met here, after all.  Here you have seen both my
+degradation and my sorrow."
+
+"Yes, Frank, and I am glad, too; it will connect this sad spot with
+brighter memories.  God bless you.  I shall never cease to pray for you,
+come what will.  May that comfort you, and may you--may you,--" her
+tears choked her voice.
+
+"Oh, one word more," he said imploringly, as, having accepted his arm in
+climbing the stile, she now relinquished it, and was turning from
+him--"One word more--one word of parting!  Oh, one word such as once
+might have been!"
+
+His hands were stretched towards her.  They might never meet again.  She
+hesitated for an instant.  Then for one moment they were pressed heart
+to heart, and lip to lip--but for one moment, and then,-- "Farewell,"
+"Farewell."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE.
+
+YOUNG DECISION.
+
+One week later, and three men might be seen walking briskly along a by-
+street in Liverpool towards the docks.  These were Hubert Oliphant,
+Frank Oldfield, and Captain Merryweather, commander of the barque
+_Sabrina_, bound for South Australia.  The vessel was to sail next day,
+and the young men were going with the captain to make some final
+arrangements about their cabins.  Hubert looked bright and happy, poor
+Frank subdued and sad.  The captain was a thorough and hearty-looking
+sailor, brown as a coffee-berry from exposure to weather; with abundance
+of bushy beard and whiskers; broad-shouldered, tall, and upright.  It
+was now the middle of October, just three days after the flight of
+Samuel Johnson from Langhurst, as recorded in the opening of our story.
+As the captain and his two companions turned the corner of the street
+they came upon a group which arrested their attention at once.
+
+Standing not far from the door of a public-house was a lad of about
+fourteen years of age.  He looked worn and hungry, yet he had not at all
+the appearance of a beggar.  He was evidently strange to the place, and
+looked about him with an air of perplexity, which made it clear that he
+was in the midst of unfamiliar and uncongenial scenes.  Three or four
+sailors were looking hard at him, as they lounged about the public-house
+door, and were making their comments to one another.
+
+"A queer-looking craft," said one.  "Never sailed in these waters afore,
+I reckon."
+
+"Don't look sea-worthy," said another.
+
+"Started a timber or two, I calculate," remarked a third.
+
+"Halloa! messmate," shouted another, whose good-humoured face was
+unhappily flushed by drink, "don't lie-to there in that fashion, but
+make sail, and come to an anchor on this bench."
+
+The lad did not answer, but stood gazing at the sailors in a state of
+utter bewilderment.
+
+"Have you carried away your jawing-tackle, my hearty?" asked the man who
+had last addressed him.
+
+"I can't make head nor tail of what you say," was the boy's reply.
+
+"Well, what's amiss with you, then?  Can you compass that?"
+
+"Ay," was the reply; "I understand that well enough.  There's plenty
+amiss with me, for I've had nothing to eat or drink since yesterday, and
+I haven't brass to buy anything with."
+
+"Ah, I see.  I suppose you mean by that foreign lingo that you haven't a
+shot in your locker, and you want a bit of summut to stow away in your
+hold."
+
+"I mean," replied the lad, rather sulkily, "that I'm almost starved to
+death."
+
+"Well, it's no odds," cried the other.  "I can't quite make you out; but
+I see you've hoisted signals of distress: there, sit you down.
+Landlord, a glass of grog, hot, and sweet, and strong.  Here, take a
+pull at that till the grog comes."
+
+He handed to him a pewter-pot as he spoke.
+
+The boy pushed it from him with a look of disgust.
+
+"I can't touch it," he said.  "If you'll give me a mouthful of meat
+instead, I'll thank you; and with all my heart too."
+
+"Meat!" exclaimed the sailor, in astonishment, "what's the young lubber
+dreaming about?  Come, don't be a fool; drink the ale, and you shall
+have some bread and cheese when you've finished your grog."
+
+"Jack," expostulated one of his companions, "let the poor lad alone; he
+hasn't a mind for the drink, perhaps he ain't used to it, and it'll only
+make him top heavy.  You can see he wants ballast; he'll be over on his
+beam-ends the first squall if he takes the ale and grog aboard."
+
+"Avast, avast, Tom," said the other, who was just sufficiently
+intoxicated to be obstinate, and determined to have his own way.  "If I
+take him in tow, he must obey sailing orders.  Grog first, and bread and
+cheese afterwards; that's what I say."
+
+"And I'd die afore I'd touch a drop of the drink," said the poor boy,
+setting his teeth firmly.  "I've seen enough, and more nor enough, of
+misery from the drink; and I'd starve to skin and bone afore I'd touch a
+drop of it."
+
+"Bravo, my lad, bravo!" cried Captain Merryweather, who had listened to
+the conversation with the greatest interest.  "Come hither, my poor boy;
+you shall have a good meal, and something better than the grog to wash
+it down with."
+
+"Oh, never heed Jack, captain," cried one of the other sailors; "he's
+half-seas over just now, and doesn't know which way he's steering.  I'll
+see that the poor lad has something to eat."
+
+"Thank you kindly, my man," replied the captain; "but he shall go with
+me, if he will."
+
+"Ay, sir," said the boy thankfully, "I'll go with you, for I'm sure you
+speak gradely."
+
+The whole party soon reached a temperance hotel, and here the captain
+ordered his young companion a substantial breakfast.
+
+"Stay here, my lad," he said, "till I come back; I want to have a word
+with you.  I am going with these gentlemen to the docks, but I shall be
+back again in half an hour.  By the way, what's your name, my boy?"
+
+A deep flush came over the other's face at this question.  He stared at
+Captain Merryweather, and did not answer.
+
+"I want to know your name."
+
+"My name?  Ah, well--I don't--you see--"
+
+"Why, surely you haven't forgotten your own name?  What do they call
+you?"
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Hubert; "his hunger has confused his brain.  He'll
+be better when he has had his breakfast."
+
+But the boy had now recovered himself, and replied,--
+
+"I ax your pardon, captain; my name's Jacob Poole."
+
+"Well, Jacob, you just wait here half an hour, and I shall have
+something to say to you when I come back, which may suit us both."
+
+When Captain Merryweather returned he found the boy looking out of the
+window at the streams of people going to and from the docks.  His head
+was resting on his two hands, and it appeared to the captain that he had
+been weeping.
+
+"Jacob," he cried, but there was no answer.
+
+"Jacob Poole," again cried the captain, in a louder voice.  The other
+turned round hastily, his face again flushed and troubled.
+
+"Well, Jacob," said the captain, sitting down, "I suppose you're a
+teetotaller, from what I saw and heard to-day."
+
+"Yes, to the back-bone," was the reply.
+
+"Well, so am I.  Now will you mind telling me, Jacob, what has brought
+you to Liverpool.  I am not asking questions just for curiosity, but
+I've taken a liking to you, and want to be your friend, for you don't
+seem to have many friends here."
+
+Jacob hesitated; at last he said,--
+
+"Captain, you're just right.  I've no friends here, nor am like to have.
+I can't tell you all about myself, but there's nothing wrong about me,
+if you'll take my word for it.  I'm not a thief nor a vagabond."
+
+"Well, I do believe you," said the other; "there's truth in your face
+and on your tongue.  I flatter myself I know a rogue when I see one.
+Will you tell me, at any rate, what you mean to do in Liverpool?"
+
+"That's easier asked nor answered," replied Jacob.  "Captain, I don't
+mind telling you this much--I've just run away to Liverpool to get out
+of the reach of the drink.  I am ready to do any honest work, if I can
+get it, but that don't seem to be so easy."
+
+"Exactly so," said Captain Merryweather.  "Now, what do you say, then,
+to going a voyage to Australia with me?  I'm in want of a cabin-boy, and
+I think you'd suit me.  I'll feed and clothe you, and I'll find you a
+situation over in Australia if you conduct yourself well on board ship;
+or, if you like to keep with me, I'll give you on the return voyage what
+wages are right."
+
+The boy's eyes sparkled with delight.  He sprang from his seat, grasped
+the captain's hand warmly between his own, and cried,--
+
+"Captain, I'll go with you to the end of the world and back again, wage
+or no wage."
+
+"I sail to-morrow," said the other; "shall you be ready?"
+
+"Ready this moment," was the answer.  "I have nothing of my own but what
+I stand in."
+
+"Come along then with me," said his kind friend; "I'll see you properly
+rigged out, and you shall go on board with me at once."
+
+They had not long left the hotel, and were passing along a back street
+on their way to the outfitter's, when a man came hastily out of a low
+public-house, and ran rather roughly against Captain Merryweather.
+
+"Halloa, my friend," cried the sailor, "have a care; you should keep a
+brighter look-out.  You've run me down, and might have carried away a
+spar or two."
+
+The man looked round, and muttered something.
+
+"I'm sorry to see you coming out of such a place, my man," added the
+captain.
+
+"Well, but I'm not drunk," said the other.
+
+"Perhaps not, but you're just on the right tack to get drunk.  Come,
+tell me what you've had."
+
+"I've only had seventeen pints of ale and three pennorth of gin."
+
+"Is it possible?" exclaimed the captain, half out loud, as the man
+walked off with a tolerably steady step.  "He says he's not drunk after
+taking all that stuff aboard.  Jacob, you seem as if you knew something
+of him."
+
+"Ay, captain," said Jacob, who had slunk behind the captain when he saw
+the man.  "I do, for sure; but you must excuse my telling you who he is,
+or where he comes from."
+
+"He's not a good friend or companion for any one, I should think," said
+the captain.
+
+"He's no friend of mine," answered Jacob; "he's too fond of the drink.
+And yet he's called to be a sober man by many, 'cos he brings some of
+his wage home on the pay-night.  Yet I've heard him say myself how he's
+often spent a sovereign in drink between Saturday night and Monday
+morning."
+
+"And what do you suppose has brought him here?"
+
+"I can't tell, unless the mayster he works for has sent him over on
+count of summat.  It's more like, however, as he's come to see his
+sister as lives somewhere in these parts."
+
+"And you'd rather he didn't know you are here, I suppose?"
+
+"Just so, captain.  There's them, perhaps, as'd be arter me if he were
+to tell 'em as he'd see'd me here; but I don't think as he did see me;
+he were half fuddled: but he never gets fairly drunk."
+
+"Well, Jacob, I don't wish to pry into your own private concerns.  I'll
+take it for granted that you're dealing honestly by me."
+
+"You may be sure of that, captain.  I'll never deceive you.  I haven't
+done anything to disgrace myself; but I wish to get gradely out of the
+reach of such chaps as yon fellow you've just spoke to.  I've had weary
+work with the drink, and I wishes to make a fresh start, and to forget
+as I ever had any belonging me.  So it's just what'll suit me gradely to
+go with you over to Australia; and you must excuse me if I make mistakes
+at first; but I'll do my best, and I can't say anything beyond that."
+
+By this time they had reached the outfitter's, where the captain saw
+Jacob duly rigged out and furnished with all things needful for the
+voyage.  They had left the shop and were on their way to the docks, when
+a tall sailor-looking man crossed over to them.  His face was bronzed
+from exposure, but was careworn and sad, and bore unmistakable marks of
+free indulgence in strong drinks.
+
+"Merryweather, how are you, my friend?" he cried, coming up and shaking
+the captain warmly by the hand.
+
+"Ah, Thomson, is that you?" said the other, returning the grasp.  "I was
+very sorry indeed to hear of your misfortune."
+
+"A bad business--a shocking business," said his friend, shaking his head
+despondingly.  "Not a spar saved.  Three poor fellows drowned.  And all
+my papers and goods gone to the bottom."
+
+"Yes, I heard something of it, and I was truly grieved.  How did it
+happen?"
+
+"Why, I'll tell you how it was.  I don't know what it is, Merryweather,
+but you're a very lucky fellow.  Some men seem born to luck: it hasn't
+been so with me.  It's all gone wrong ever since I left Australia.  We'd
+fair weather and a good run till we were fairly round the Horn; but one
+forenoon the glass began to fall, and I saw there was heavy weather
+coming.  After a bit it came on to blow a regular gale.  The sea got up
+in no time, and I had to order all hands up to reef topsails.  We were
+rather short-handed, for I could hardly get men when I started, for love
+or money.  Well, would you believe it?--half a dozen of the fellows were
+below so drunk that they couldn't stand."
+
+"Ah, I feared," said Captain Merryweather, "that the drink had something
+to do with your troubles.  But how did they manage to get so tipsy?"
+
+"Oh, they contrived to get at one of the spirit-casks.  They bored a
+hole in it with a gimlet, and sucked the rum out through a straw.  There
+was nothing for it but to send up the steward, and Jim, my cabin-boy,
+along with the others who were on deck.  But poor Jim was but a clumsy
+hand at it; and as they were lying out on the yard, the poor fellow lost
+his hold, and was gone in a moment.  I never caught one look at him
+after he fell.  Ay, but that wasn't all.  About a week after, I was
+wanting the steward one morning to fetch me something out of the
+lazarette; so I called him over and over again.  He came at last, but so
+tipsy that I could make nothing of him; and I had to start him off to
+the steerage, and take on another man in his place.  He'd been helping
+himself to the spirits.  It was very vexing, you'll allow; for he was
+quite a handy chap, and I got on very poorly afterwards without him.  I
+don't know how you manage, but you seem always to get steady men."
+
+"Yes," said Captain Merryweather; "because I neither take the drink
+myself nor have it on board."
+
+"Ay, but I can never get on without my glass of grog," said the other.
+
+"Then I'm afraid you'll never get your men to do without it.  There's
+nothing like example--`example's better than precept.'"
+
+"I believe you're right.  But you haven't heard the end of my
+misfortunes, nor the worst either.  It was a little foggy as we were
+getting into the Channel, and I'd given, of course, strict orders to
+keep a good look-out; so two of our sharpest fellows went forward when
+it began to get dark, and I had a steady man at the wheel.  I'd been on
+deck myself a good many hours; so I just turned in to get a wink of
+sleep, leaving the first mate in charge.  I don't know how long I'd
+slept, for I was very weary, when all in a moment there came a dreadful
+crash, and I knew we were run into.  I was out and on deck like a shot;
+but the sea was pouring in like a mill-stream, and I'd only just time to
+see the men all safe in the _Condor_--the ship that ran into us--and get
+on board myself, before the poor _Elizabeth_ went down head foremost.
+It's very strange.  I hadn't been off the deck ten minutes, and that was
+the first time I'd gone below for the last sixteen hours.  It's just
+like my luck.  The captain of the _Condor_ says we were to blame; and
+our first mate says their men were to blame.  I can't tell how it was.
+It was rather thick at the time; but we ought to have seen one another's
+lights.  Some one sung out on the other ship; but it was too late then,
+and our two poor fellows who were forward looking out were both lost.
+It's very strange; don't you think so?"
+
+"It's very sad," replied the other; "and I'm heartily sorry for it.
+It's a bad job anyhow; and yet, to tell you the honest truth, I'm not so
+very much surprised, for I suspect that the drink was at the bottom of
+it."
+
+"No, no; you're quite mistaken there.  I never saw either the mate or
+the man at the wheel, or any of the men who were then on deck, drunk, or
+anything like it, during the whole voyage."
+
+"That may be," said the other; "but I did not say it was drunkenness,
+but the drink, that I thought was at the bottom of it.  The men may have
+been the worse for drink without being drunk."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"No, I see you don't; that's the worst of it.  Very few people do see
+it, or understand it; but it's true.  A man's the worse for drink when
+he's taken so much as makes him less fit to do his work, whatever it may
+be.  You'll think it rather strange, perhaps, in me to say so; but I
+_do_ say it, because I believe it, that more accidents arise from the
+drink than from drunkenness, or from moderate drinking, as it is called,
+than from drunkenness."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Why, thus.  A man may take just enough to confuse him, or to make him
+careless, or to destroy his coolness and self-possession, without being
+in the least drunk; or he may have taken enough to make him drowsy, and
+so unfit to do work that wants special attention and watchfulness."
+
+"I see what you mean," said the other.
+
+"Perhaps you'd all been drinking an extra glass when you found
+yourselves so near home."
+
+"Why, yes.  To tell you the truth, we had all of us a little more than
+usual that night; and yet I'll defy any man to say that we were not all
+perfectly sober."
+
+"But yet, in my way of looking at it," said Captain Merryweather, "you
+were the worse for liquor, because less able to have your wits about
+you.  And that's surely a very serious thing to look at for ourselves,
+and our employers too; for if we've taken just enough to make us less up
+to our work, we're the worse for drink, though no man can say we're
+drunk.  Take my advice, Thomson, and keep clear of the grog altogether,
+and then you'll find your luck come back again.  You'll find it better
+for head, heart, and pocket, take my word for it."
+
+"I believe you're right.  I'll think of what you've said," was the
+reply; and they parted.
+
+"Jacob, my lad," said Captain Merryweather, as they walked along, "did
+you hear what Captain Thomson said?"
+
+"Ay, captain; and what you said too.  And I'm sure you spoke nothing but
+the real truth."
+
+"Well, you just mark that, Jacob.  There are scores of accidents and
+crimes from drunkenness, and they get known, and talked about, and
+punished; but there are hundreds which come from moderate drinking, or
+from the drink itself, which are never traced.  Ships run foul of one
+another, trains come into collision, houses get set on fire; and the
+drink is at the bottom of most of it, I believe, because people get put
+off their balance, and ain't themselves, and so get careless, or
+confused, or excited, and then mischief follows.  And yet no one can say
+they're drunk; and where are you to draw the line?  A man's the worse
+for drink long before he's anything like intoxicated; for it is in the
+very nature of the drink to fly at once to a man's brain.  Ah, give me
+the man or lad, Jacob, that takes none.  His head is clear, his hand's
+steady, his eye is quick.  He's sure not to have taken too much, because
+he has taken none at all.--But here we are.  There lies my good ship,
+the barque _Sabrina_.  You shall come on board with me at once, and see
+your quarters."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+OUTWARD BOUND.
+
+Six weeks had elapsed since the barque _Sabrina_ had left the port of
+Liverpool.  She was stealing along swiftly before a seven knot breeze on
+the quarter, with studding-sails set.  It was intensely hot, for they
+had crossed the line only a few days since.  Captain Merryweather had
+proved himself all that a captain should be--a thorough sailor, equal to
+any emergency; a firm but considerate commander; an interesting and
+lively companion, ever evenly cheerful, and watchful to make all around
+him comfortable and happy.  Hubert Oliphant was full of spirits--happy
+himself, and anxious to make others the same; a keen observer of every
+natural phenomenon, and admirer of the varied beauties of ocean and sky;
+and, better still, with a heart ready to feel the bounty and love of God
+in everything bright, lovely, and grand.  Poor Frank had become less
+sad; but his sorrow still lay heavy on his spirits.  Yet there was hope
+for him to cling to; and he was rejoicing in the subduing of his evil
+habit, which was thus far broken through by his forced abstinence.
+Alas! he did not realise that a smouldering fire and an extinct one are
+very different things.  He was sanguine and self-confident; he fancied
+that his resolution had gained in firmness, whereas it had only rested
+quiet, no test or strain having been applied to it; and, worst of all,
+he did not feel the need of seeking in prayer that grace from above
+which would have given strength to his weakness and nerve to his good
+resolves.  And yet who could see him and not love him?  There was a
+bright, reckless generosity in every look, word, and movement, which
+took the affections by storm, and chained the judgment.  Jacob Poole had
+become his devoted admirer.  Day by day, as he passed near him, and saw
+his sunny smile and heard his animated words, the young cabin-boy seemed
+more and more drawn to him by a sort of fascination.  Jacob was very
+happy.  The captain was a most kind and indulgent master, and he felt it
+a privilege to do his very best to please him.  But his greatest
+happiness was to listen--when he could do so without neglecting his
+duty--to the conversations between Frank, Hubert, and the captain, as
+they sat at meals round the cuddy-table, or occasionally when in fair
+weather they stood together on the poop-deck; and it was Frank's voice
+and words that had a special charm for him.  Frank saw it partly, and
+often took occasion to have some talk with Jacob in his own cheery way;
+and so bound the boy still closer to him.
+
+It was six weeks, as we have said, since the _Sabrina_ left Liverpool.
+The day was drawing to a close; in a little while the daylight would
+melt suddenly into night.  Not a cloud was in the sky: a fiery glow,
+mingled with crimson, lit up the sea and heavens for a while, and,
+speedily fading away, dissolved, through a faint airy glimmer of palest
+yellow, into clear moonlight.  How lovely was the calm!--a calm that
+rested not only on the sea, but also on the spirits of the voyagers, as
+the vessel slipped through the waters, gently bending over every now and
+then as the wind slightly freshened, and almost dipping her studding-
+sail boom into the sea, which glittered in one long pathway of quivering
+moonbeams, while every little wave, as far as the eye could reach, threw
+up a crest of silver.  The captain stood near the binnacle.  He was
+giving a lesson in steering to Jacob Poole, who felt very proud at
+taking his place at the wheel for the first time, and grasped the spokes
+with a firm hand, keeping his eye steadily on the compass.  Frank and
+Hubert stood near, enjoying the lovely evening, and watching Captain
+Merryweather and the boy.
+
+"Steady, my lad, steady," said the captain; "keep her head just south
+and by east.  A firm hand, a steady eye, and a sound heart; there's no
+good without them."
+
+"You'll soon make a good sailor of him, captain," said Hubert.
+
+"Ay, I hope so," was the reply.  "He's got the best guarantee for the
+firm hand and the steady eye in his total abstinence; and I hope he has
+the sound heart too."
+
+"You look, captain, as if total abstinence had thriven with you.  Have
+you always been a total abstainer?" asked Frank.
+
+A shade of deep sadness came over the captain's face as he answered,--
+
+"No, Mr Oldfield; but it's many years now since I was driven into it."
+
+"Driven!" exclaimed Frank, laughing; "you do not look a likely subject
+to be driven into anything."
+
+"Ay, sir; but there are two sorts of driving--body-driving and heart-
+driving.  Mine was heart-driving."
+
+"I should very much like to hear how it was that you were driven into
+becoming an abstainer," said Hubert; "if it will not be asking too
+much."
+
+"Not at all, sir; and perhaps it may do you all good to hear it, though
+it's a very sad story.--Steady, Jacob, steady; keep her full.--It may
+help to keep you firm when you get to Australia.  You'll find plenty of
+drinking traps there."
+
+"I'm not afraid," said Frank.  "But by all means let us have your story.
+We are all attention."
+
+Hubert sighed; he wished that Frank were not so confident.
+
+"Ay," said the captain, gazing dreamily across the water; "I think I see
+her now--my poor dear mother.  She was a good mother to me.  That's one
+of God's best gifts in this rough world of ours, Mr Oliphant.  I've
+known many a man--and I'm one of them--that's owed everything to a good
+mother.  Well, my poor mother was a sailor's wife; a better sailor, they
+say, than my father never stepped a plank.  He'd one fault, however,
+when she married him, and only one; so folks like to put it.  That fault
+was, that he took too much grog aboard; but only now and then.  So my
+poor mother smiled when it was talked about in courting time, and they
+were married.  My father was the owner of a small coasting-vessel, and
+of course was often away from home for weeks and sometimes for months
+together.  A sister and myself were the only children; she was two years
+the oldest.  My father used to be very fond of his children when he came
+home, and would bring us some present or other in his pocket, and a new
+gown, or cap, or bonnet for my mother.  Yet somehow--I could hardly
+understand it then--she was oftener in tears than in smiles when he
+stayed ashore.  I know how it was now: he'd learned to love the drink
+more and more; and she, poor thing, had got her eyes opened to the sin
+and misery it was bringing with it.  He was often away at nights now.
+We children saw but little of him; and yet, when he _was_ at home and
+sober, a kinder father, a better husband, a nobler-looking man wasn't to
+be seen anywhere.  Well, you may be sure things didn't mend as time went
+on.  My mother had hard work to make the stores hold out, for her
+allowance grew less as we children grew bigger.  Only one good thing
+came of all this: when all this trouble blew on my poor mother like a
+hurricane, she shortened sail, and ran before the gale right into the
+heavenly port; or, as you'll understand me better, she took her sins and
+her cares to her Saviour, and found peace there.  At last my sister grew
+up into a fine young woman, and I into a stout, healthy lad.--Steady,
+Jacob, steady; mind your helm.--My father didn't improve with age.  He
+was not sober as often as he used to be; indeed, when he was on shore he
+was very rarely sober, and when he did stay an hour or two at home he
+was cross and snappish.  His fine temper and manly bearing were gone;
+for the drink, you may be sure, leaves its mark upon its slaves.  Just
+as it is with a man who has often been put in irons for bad conduct;
+you'd know him by his walk even when he's at liberty--he's not like a
+man that has always been free.  Ah, my poor mother! it was hard times
+for her.  She talked to my father, but he only swore at her.  I shall
+never forget his first oath to her; it seemed to crush the light out of
+her heart.  However bad he'd been before, he had always been gentle to
+_her_.  But he was getting past that.  She tried again to reason with
+him when he was sober.  He was sulky at first; then he flew into a
+passion.  And once he struck her.  Yes; and _I_ saw it, and I couldn't
+bear it.  I was flying at him like a tiger, when my dear mother flung
+her arms round me, and chained me to the spot.  My father never forgot
+that.  He seemed from that day to have lost all love for me; and I must
+own that I had little left for him.  My mother loved him still, and so
+did my sister; but they left off talking to him about his drunkenness.
+It was of no use; they prayed for him instead.--Steady, Jacob; luff a
+bit, my lad; luff you can."
+
+"And did this make you an abstainer?" asked Hubert.
+
+"No, sir; so far from it, that I was just beginning to like my grog when
+I could get it.  I didn't see the evil of the drink then; I didn't see
+how the habit keeps winding its little cords round and round a man, till
+what begins as thin as a log-line, becomes in the end as thick as a
+hawser.  My mother trembled for me, I knew; I saw her look at me with
+tears in her eyes many a time, when I came home talkative and excited,
+though not exactly tipsy.  I could see she was sick at heart.  But I
+hadn't learned my lesson yet; I was to have a terrible teacher.
+
+"There was a young man who began to visit at our cottage when my sister
+was just about twenty.  They used to call him--well, that don't matter;
+better his name should never be spoken by me.  He was a fisherman, as
+likely a lad as you'd see anywhere; and he'd one boast that few could
+make, he had never been tipsy in his life; he was proud of it; he had
+got his measure, he said, and he never went beyond it.  He laughed at
+teetotallers; they were such a sneaking, helpless lot, he said--why
+couldn't they take what was good for them, and stop there when they'd
+had enough; surely a man ought to be master of his own appetites--he
+was, he said; he could stop when he pleased.  However, to make a long
+story short, he took a great fancy to my dear sister, and she soon
+returned it.  Our cottage was near the sea, but on a hill-side some
+hundred feet or more above the beach.  High ground rose behind it and
+sheltered it from the north and east winds.  It had a glorious view of
+the ocean, and one of the loveliest little gardens that any cottage
+could boast of.  The young man I spoke of would often sit with my sister
+in the little porch, when the roses and jessamine were in full flower
+all over it; and I used to think, as I looked at them, that a handsomer
+couple could never be made man and wife.  Well, it was agreed that they
+should wait a few months till he was fully prepared to give her a home.
+My father just then was ashore, and took to the young man amazingly; he
+must have him spend many an evening at our cottage, and you may be sure
+that the grog didn't remain in the cupboard.  My father had a great many
+yarns to spin, and liked a good listener; and as listening and talking
+are both dry work, one glass followed another till the young man's eyes
+began to sparkle, and my poor sister's to fill with tears; still, he
+always maintained, when she talked gently to him about it next day, that
+he knew well what he was about, that he never overstepped his mark, and
+that she might trust him.  Ah, it was easy to talk; but it was very
+plain that his mark began to be set glass after glass higher than it
+used to be.  At last, one night she couldn't hold any longer, and
+implored him to stop as he was filling another tumbler.  Upon this my
+father burst out into a furious passion, and swore that, as he could
+find no peace at home, he'd go where he _could_ find it,--that was to
+the public-house, of course.  Out they both of them went, and we saw no
+more of them that night, you may be sure; and my mother and sister
+almost cried their hearts out.  It was some days after this before my
+sister's lover ventured to show his face at our place, and then he
+didn't dare to meet her eye.  She said very little to him; it was plain
+she was beginning to lose all hope; and she had reason too, for when the
+demon of drink gets a firm hold, Mr Oldfield, he'll not let go, if he
+can help it, till he's strangled every drop of good out of a man.  But I
+mustn't be too long; there isn't much left to tell, however.--Steady,
+Jacob, my lad; keep her full.--You may suppose that we hadn't much more
+of my father's company, or of the young man's either; they found the
+public-house more to their mind; and so it went on night after night.
+Little was said about the wedding, and my sister never alluded to it
+even to us.  At last October came.  It was one lovely moonlight night,
+just such a night as this, quiet and peaceful.  My father was to set out
+on one of his cruises next morning, and was expecting the mate to bring
+round his little vessel, and anchor her in the roads off the shore, in
+sight of our cottage.  He had come home pretty sober to tea, bringing my
+sister's lover with him.  After tea there were several things he had to
+settle with my mother; so, while they were making their arrangements, my
+sister and the young man had an earnest talk together.  I didn't mean to
+listen, but I could overhear that he was urging her to fix an early day
+for the wedding, with many promises of amendment and sobriety, which the
+poor girl listened to with a half-unwilling ear, and yet her heart
+couldn't say, `No.'  At last my father cried, `Come, my lad, we'll just
+go up to the top of the hill, and see if we can make out the _Peggy_.
+She ought to be coming round by this time.'
+
+"`Oh, father,' cried my sister, `don't go out again to-night.'
+
+"`Nonsense!' he said, roughly; `do you think I'm a baby, that can't take
+care of myself?'
+
+"My mother said nothing; my sister looked at her lover with an imploring
+glance.  I shall never forget it; there was both entreaty and despair in
+her eyes.  He hesitated a moment, but my father was already out of the
+door, and loudly calling on him to follow.
+
+"`I'll be back again in a few minutes,' he said; `it won't do to cross
+your father to-night.'
+
+"Ah, those few minutes!  She went to the door.  It was a most lovely
+night; there was a flood of moonlight poured out upon land and sea.  All
+that God had made was as beautiful as if sin had never spoiled it.  Just
+a little to the right of our cottage the ground rose up suddenly, and
+sloped up about a quarter of a mile to the top of a high cliff, from the
+edge of which was a sheer descent, almost unbroken, to the beach, of
+several hundred feet.  It was a favourite spot of observation, for
+vessels could be seen miles off.
+
+"My sister watched her father and lover in the clear moonlight to the
+top.  There they stood for about half an hour, and then they turned.
+But which way?  Home?  It seemed so at first--the young man was plainly
+hesitating.  At last he yielded to my father's persuasion, and both
+disappeared over the farther side of the high ground.  My unhappy
+sister, with a wild cry of distress, came back into the cottage, and
+threw herself sobbing into a chair.
+
+"`Oh, mother, mother!' she cried, `they're off again--they're gone to
+the public-house; father'll be the death of _him_, body and soul.'
+
+"My mother made no answer.  She could not speak.  She had no comfort to
+offer.  She knew that my wretched father was the tempter.  She knew that
+there was nothing but misery before her child.
+
+"Oh, what a weary night that was!  We sat for hours waiting, listening.
+At last we heard the sound of voices--two voices were shouting out
+snatches of sea-songs with drunken vehemence.  We didn't need any one to
+tell us whose voices they were.  My sister started up and rushed out.  I
+followed her, and so did my mother.  We could see now my father and the
+young man, sharp and clear in the moonlight, arm in arm at the top of
+the cliff.  They were waving their arms about and shouting, as they
+swayed and staggered to and fro.  Then they went forward towards the
+edge, and tried to steady themselves as they looked in the direction of
+the sea.
+
+"`They'll be over!' shrieked my sister; `oh, let us try and save them!'
+
+"My mother sank senseless on the ground.  For a moment my sister seemed
+as if she would do the same.  Then she and I rushed together towards the
+cliff at the top of our speed.  We could just see the two poor miserable
+drunkards staggering about for a little while, but then a sinking in the
+ground, as we hurried on, hid them from our sight.  A few minutes more
+and we were on the slope at the top, but where were _they_?  They were
+gone--where?  I dared not let my sister go forward, but I could hardly
+hold her, till at last she sank down in a swoon.  And then I made my way
+to the top of the cliff, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins as I
+looked over.  There they were on the rocks below, some hundred and fifty
+feet down.  I shouted for help; some of the neighbours had seen us
+running, and now came to my relief.  I left a kind woman with my unhappy
+sister, and hurried with some fishermen the nearest way to the beach.
+It was sickening work climbing to the place on to which my miserable
+father and his companion had pitched in their fall.  Alas! they were
+both dead when we reached them, and frightfully mangled.  I can hardly
+bear to go on," and the captain's voice faltered, "and yet I must
+complete my story.  We made a sort of large hammock, wrapped them in it,
+and by the help of some poles carried them up to our cottage.  It was
+terrible work.  My sister did not shed a tear for days, indeed I
+scarcely ever saw her shed a tear at all; but she pined away, and a few
+short months closed her sad life."
+
+The captain paused, and it was long before any one broke the silence.
+At last Hubert asked,--
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+"Ah, my mother--well, she did not die.  She mourned over her daughter;
+but I can't say that she seemed to feel my father's loss so much, and I
+think I can tell you why," he added, looking very earnestly at the two
+young men.  "Mark this, young gentlemen, and you Jacob, too--there's
+this curse about the drink, when it's got its footing in a home it eats
+out all warm affections.  I don't think my mother had much love left for
+my father in her heart when he died.  His drunkenness had nearly stamped
+out the last spark."
+
+"It's a sad story indeed," said Frank, thoughtfully.
+
+"Ay; and only one among many such sad stories," said the captain.
+
+"And so you were led after this to become a total abstainer?"
+
+"Yes; it was on the day of my sister's funeral.  I came back to the
+cottage after the service was over with my heart full of sorrowful
+thoughts.  My mother sat in her chair by the fire; her Bible was open
+before her, her head was bowed down, her hands clasped, and her lips
+moving in prayer.  I heard them utter my own name.
+
+"`Mother,' I said, springing forward, and throwing my arms round her,
+`please God, and with his help, I'll never touch another drop of the
+drink from this day.'
+
+"`God bless you, my son,' she said, with sobs.  `I've prayed him scores
+of times that my son might be preserved from living a drunkard's life,
+and dying a drunkard's death.  I believe he's heard me.  I know he has,
+and I'll trust him to make you truly his child, and then we shall meet
+in glory.'  From that day to this not a drop of intoxicating liquor has
+ever passed my lips.  But it's time to turn in; we shan't sleep the less
+sound because we're not indebted to the grog for a nightcap."
+
+For some days after the captain had told his story, Frank Oldfield's
+manner was subdued and less buoyant than usual--something like a
+misgiving about his own ability to resist temptation, mingled with sad
+memories of the past.  But his spirits soon recovered their usual
+brightness.
+
+It was on a cloudless day, when scarcely a breath of air puffed out the
+sails, and the dog-vane drooped lazily, as if desponding at having
+nothing to do, that Hubert was looking listlessly over the stern,
+marking how the wide expanse of the sea was heaving and swelling like a
+vast carpet of silk upraised and then drawn down again by some giant
+hand.  Suddenly he cried out,--
+
+"What's that cutting its way behind us, just below the surface of the
+water?"
+
+"A shark, most likely," said the mate, coming up.  "Ay, sure enough it
+is," he added, looking over the stern.  "Many a poor fellow has lost his
+life or his limbs by their ugly teeth.  We'll bait a hook for him."
+
+This was soon done.  A large piece of rusty pork was stuck upon a hook
+attached to the end of a stout chain, the chain being fastened to a
+strong rope.  All was now excitement on board.  The captain, Hubert,
+Frank, and Jacob Poole looked over at the monster, whose dorsal fin just
+appeared above the water.  He did not, however, seem to be in any hurry
+to take the bait, but kept swimming near it, and now and then knocked it
+with his nose.
+
+"Just look at the water," cried Frank; "why, it's all alive with little
+fish.  I never saw anything like it."
+
+Indeed, it was an extraordinary sight.  All round the vessel, and as
+deep down in the water as the eye could penetrate, the ocean was
+swarming with millions upon millions of little fishes, so that their
+countless multitudes completely changed the colour of the sea.  Jacob
+Poole, who was standing close by the captain, now sprang into the boat
+which hung over the stern to get a better look at the shark and his
+minute companions.
+
+"Have a care," shouted the captain, "or you'll be over, if you don't
+mind."
+
+It was too late; for just as Jacob was endeavouring to steady himself in
+the boat, a sudden roll of the ship threw him completely off his
+balance.  He tried to save himself by catching at a rope near him, but
+missed it, and fell right over the boat's side into the sea below.
+
+All was instantly confusion and dismay, for every one on board knew that
+Jacob was no swimmer.  Happily the ship was moving very sluggishly
+through the water, so one of the quarter-boats was instantly lowered
+from the davits.  But long before it could row to the rescue help had
+come from another quarter.  For one moment Hubert and his friend stood
+looking on transfixed with dismay, then, without an instant's
+hesitation, Frank sprang upon the taffrail, and plunged headlong into
+the sea.  He was a capital swimmer, and soon reached poor Jacob.  But
+now a cry of horror arose from those on board.
+
+"The shark! the shark!"
+
+The creature had disappeared at the moment of the cabin-boy's fall, the
+sudden and violent splash having completely scared him away for the
+instant; but scarcely had Frank reached the drowning lad, and raised him
+in the water, than the huge monster began to make towards them.  They
+were so short a distance from the vessel that those on board could
+plainly see the movements of the great fish as he glided up to them.
+
+"Splash about with all your might, for Heaven's sake," roared out the
+captain.
+
+"All right," cried young Oldfield with perfect coolness, and at the same
+time making a violent commotion in the water all round him, which had
+the effect of daunting their enemy for the time.  And now the quarter-
+boat was lowered, and reached them in a few vigorous strokes.
+
+"Pull for your lives, my lads," shouted the mate, who was steering.
+"Here we are--steady--ship oars.  Now then, Tom Davies, lay hold on
+'em--in with 'em quick--there's the shark again.  Jack, you slap away at
+the water with your oar.  Ay, my friend, we've puzzled you this time--a
+near shave, though.  Now then, all right.  Give way, my lads.  Jacob, my
+boy, you've baulked Johnny shark of his dinner this once."
+
+They were soon alongside, and on deck, and were greeted by a lusty
+"Hurrah!" from captain and crew.
+
+"Nobly done, nobly done, Mr Oldfield!" cried the captain, with tears in
+his eyes, and shaking Frank warmly by the hand.  Hubert was also earnest
+in his thanks and congratulations.  As for poor Jacob, when he had
+somewhat recovered from the utter bewilderment into which his
+unfortunate plunge had thrown him, he came up close to his rescuer and
+said,--
+
+"Mr Oldfield, I can't thank you as I should, but I shan't forget as
+you've saved my life."
+
+"All right, Jacob," said Frank, laughing; "you'll do the same for me
+when I want it, I don't doubt.  But you have to thank our kind friends,
+the mate and his crew, as much as me, or we should have been pretty sure
+to have been both of us food for the fishes by this time."
+
+And so it was that the cabin-boy's attachment to Frank Oldfield became a
+passion--a love which many waters could not quench--a love that was
+wonderful, passing the love of women.  Each day increased it.  And now
+his one earnest desire was to serve Frank on shore in some capacity,
+that he might be always near him.  Day by day, as the voyage drew to its
+close, he was scheming in his head how to bring about what he so
+ardently desired; and the way was opened for him.
+
+It was in the middle of January, the height of the Australian summer,
+that the _Sabrina_ came in sight of Kangaroo Island, and in a little
+while was running along the coast, the range of hills which form a
+background to the city of Adelaide being visible in the distance.  And
+now all heads, and tongues, and hands were busy, for in a few hours, if
+the tide should serve for their passing the bar, they would be safe in
+Port Adelaide.
+
+"Well, Jacob; my lad," said Captain Merryweather to the cabin-boy, as he
+stood looking rather sadly and dreamily at the land, "you don't look
+very bright.  I thought you'd be mad after a run ashore.  Here comes the
+pilot; he'll soon let us know whether we can get into port before next
+tide."
+
+When the pilot had taken charge of the ship, and it was found that there
+was water enough for them to cross the bar at once, the captain again
+called Jacob to him into the cuddy, where he was sitting with Hubert and
+Frank.
+
+"I see, Jacob, my boy," he said, "that there's something on your mind,
+and I think I half know what it is.  Now, I'm a plain straightforward
+sailor, and don't care to go beating about the bush, so I'll speak out
+plainly.  You've been a good lad, and pleased me well, and if you've a
+mind to go home with me, I've the mind, on my part, to take you.  But
+then I see Mr Oldfield here has taken a fancy to you, and thinks you
+might be willing to take service with him.  Ah, I see it in your eyes,
+my lad--that settles it.  I promised before we sailed that I'd find you
+a good situation out here, and I believe I've done it.  Mr Oldfield,
+Jacob's your man."
+
+Poor Jacob; the tears filled his eyes--his chest heaved--he crushed his
+cap out of all shape between his fingers--then he spoke, at first with
+difficulty, and then in a husky voice,--
+
+"Oh, captain, I'm afraid you'll think I'm very ungrateful.  I don't know
+which way to turn.  You've been very good to me, and I couldn't for
+shame leave you.  I'd be proud to serve you to the last day of my life.
+But you seem to have fathomed my heart.  I wish one half of me could go
+back with you, and the other half stay with Mr Oldfield.  But I'll just
+leave it with yourselves to settle; only you mustn't think, captain, as
+I've forgotten all your kindness.  I'm not that sort of chap."
+
+"Not a bit, my lad, not a bit," replied the captain, cheerily; "I
+understand you perfectly.  I want to do the best for you; and I don't
+think I can do better than launch you straight off, and let Mr Oldfield
+take you in tow; and if I'm spared to come another voyage here, and you
+should be unsettled, or want to go home again, why, I shall be right
+glad to have you, and to give you your wages too."  And so it was
+settled, much to the satisfaction of Frank and the happiness of Jacob.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+ABRAHAM OLIPHANT.
+
+"And so you're my nephew Hubert," said a tall, middle-aged gentleman,
+who had come on board as soon as the _Sabrina_ reached the port, and was
+now shaking Hubert warmly by the hand.  "A hearty welcome to South
+Australia.  Ah, I see; this is Mr Oldfield.  My brother wrote to me
+about you.  You're heartily welcome too, my young friend, for so I
+suppose I may call you.  Well, you've come at a warm time of the year,
+and I hope we shall be able to give you a warm reception.  And how did
+you leave your dear father, Hubert?  You're very like him; the sight of
+your face brings back old times to me.  And how are your brothers and
+sister?  All well?  That's right.  Thank God for it.  And now just put a
+few things together while I speak to the captain.  I'll see that your
+baggage is cleared and sent up all right after you.  My dog-cart's
+waiting, and will take your friend and yourself and what things you may
+want for a few days."
+
+The speaker's manner was that of a man of good birth and education, with
+the peculiar tone of independence which characterises the old colonist.
+Hubert and Frank both felt at their ease with him at once.
+
+It was arranged that Jacob Poole should remain with Captain Merryweather
+for a few days, and should then join his new master in Adelaide.  After
+a very hearty leave-taking with the captain, the young men and Mr
+Abraham Oliphant were soon on shore.
+
+There was no railway from the port to the city in those days, but
+travellers were conveyed by coaches and port-carts, unless they were
+driven in some friend's carriage or other vehicle.  Driving tandem was
+much the fashion, and it was in this way that Hubert and Frank were
+making their first journey inland.
+
+"Now, my dear Hubert, and Mr Oldfield, jump in there; give me your
+bags; now we're all right;" and away they started.
+
+The first mile or two of their journey was not particularly inviting.
+They passed through Albert Town, and through a flat country along a very
+dusty road, trees being few and far between.  A mile farther on and they
+saw a group of natives coming towards them with at least half-a-dozen
+ragged looking dogs at their heels.  The men were lounging along in a
+lordly sort of way, entirely at their ease; one old fellow, with a
+grizzly white beard and hair, leaning all his weight on the shoulders of
+a poor woman, whom he was using as a walking-stick.  The other women
+were all heavily-laden, some with wood, and others with burdens of
+various sorts, their lords and masters condescending to carry nothing
+but a couple of light wooden spears, a waddy, or native club, and a
+boomerang.
+
+"Poor creatures!" exclaimed Hubert; "what miserable specimens of
+humanity; indeed, they hardly look human at all."
+
+"Ah," said his uncle, "there are some who are only too glad to declare
+that these poor creatures are only brutes, that they have no souls.
+I've heard a man say he'd as soon shoot a native as a dingo; that is, a
+wild dog."
+
+"But _you_ don't think so, dear uncle?"
+
+"Think so! no indeed.  Their intellects are sharp enough in some things.
+Yes; it is very easy to take from them their lands, their kangaroo, and
+their emu, and then talk about their having no souls, just to excuse
+ourselves from doing anything for them in return.  Why, those very men
+who will talk the most disparagingly of them, do not hesitate to make
+use of them; ay, and trust them too.  They will employ them as
+shepherds, and even as mounted policemen.  But let us stop a moment, and
+hear what they have to say."
+
+He drew up, and the natives stopped also, grinning from ear to ear.
+They were very dark, a dusky olive colour; the older ones were hideously
+ugly, and yet it was impossible not to be taken with the excessive good
+humour of their laughing faces.
+
+"What name you?" cried the foremost to Mr Oliphant.
+
+"Abraham," was the reply.
+
+"Ah, very good Abraham," rejoined the native; "you give me copper, me
+call you gentleman."
+
+"Them you piccaninnies?" asked one of the women, pointing to Hubert and
+Frank.
+
+"No," said Mr Oliphant; "there--there are some coppers for you; you
+must do me some work for them when you come to my sit-down."
+
+"Gammon," cried the black addressed; "me plenty lazy."
+
+"A sensible fellow," cried Frank laughing, as they drove on; "he knows
+how to look after his own interests, clearly enough; surely such as
+these cannot be past teaching."
+
+"No indeed," said the other; "we teach them evil fast enough; they learn
+our vices besides their own.  You may be sure they drink when they can.
+Ah, that curse of drunkenness!  Did you think you had run away from it
+when you left England?  Happy for you, Hubert, that you're an abstainer;
+and I suppose, Mr Oldfield, that you are one too."
+
+"Not a pledged one," said Frank, colouring deeply, "but one in practice,
+I hope, nevertheless."
+
+"Well, I tell you honestly that you'll find neither beer, wine, or
+spirits in my house.  To everything else you are both heartily
+welcome.--Ah, that's not so pleasant," he exclaimed suddenly.
+
+"Is there anything amiss?" asked Hubert.
+
+"Oh, nothing serious!" was the reply; "only a little disagreeable; but
+we may perhaps escape it.  We'll pull up for a moment.  There; just look
+on a few hundred yards."
+
+Ahead of them some little distance, in the centre of the road, a
+whirling current of air was making the dust revolve in a rapidly
+enlarging circle.  As this circle widened it increased in substance,
+till at last it became a furious earth-spout, gathering sticks and
+leaves, and even larger things, into its vortex, and rising higher and
+higher in the air till it became a vast black moving column, making a
+strange rustling noise as it approached.  Then it left the direct road,
+and rushed along near them, rising higher and higher in the air, and
+becoming less and less dense, till its base completely disappeared, and
+the column spent itself in a fine streak of sand some hundred feet or
+more above their heads.
+
+"A pleasant escape," said Mr Oliphant; "we shouldn't have gained either
+in good looks or comfort if we had got into the thick of it."
+
+"I should think not indeed," said Frank.  "Do people often get into
+these whirlwinds, or earth-spouts, or whatever they should be called?"
+
+"Sometimes they do," said the other, "and then the results are anything
+but agreeable.  I have seen men go into them white--white jacket, white
+waistcoat, white trousers, white hat, and come out one universal brown--
+brown jacket, waistcoat, trousers, hat, eyebrows, whiskers, all brown."
+
+"Anything but pleasant indeed," said Hubert.  "But do they ever do
+serious mischief?"
+
+"Not very serious, as far as I know," replied his uncle.  "Once I knew
+of a pastry-cook's man who was caught in one of these whirlwinds; he had
+a tray of tarts on his head, and the wind caught the tray, and whirled
+it off, tarts and all.  But here we are at the `Half-way house;' people
+commonly can't go many miles here without the drink.  They fancy that,
+because we live in a country which is very hot in summer, we want more
+to drink; but it's just the reverse.  Drink very little of anything in
+the specially hot days, and you'll not feel the want of it."
+
+And now, after a further drive of three or four miles, the outskirts of
+the city of Adelaide were nearly reached, and the distant hills became
+more plainly visible.
+
+"We shall cross the river by the ford at the back of the jail," said Mr
+Oliphant, "for there's very little water in the river now."
+
+"And is this the river Torrens?" asked Hubert, with a slight tone of
+incredulity in his voice.
+
+"You may well ask," replied his uncle, laughing.  "Torrens is certainly
+an unfortunate name, for it leads a stranger naturally to look for a
+deep and impetuous stream.  Some gentleman from Melbourne, when he first
+saw it, was highly incensed and disgusted, and exclaimed, `Is this
+_crack in the earth_ your river Torrens?'"
+
+"But I suppose," inquired Frank, "it is not always as shallow as now?"
+
+"No indeed," said the other; "I've seen it many a time a real Torrens.
+When it comes rushing down, swollen by numberless little streams from
+the hills, it will carry almost everything before it.  Bridges, and
+strong ones too, it has swept away, and you may judge both of its
+violence and of the height to which it rises at such times, when I tell
+you that, when a flood has subsided, you may sometimes look up and see a
+dead horse sticking in the fork of a tree which had for a time been
+nearly under water.  And I've often thought that the drink is like this
+stream; people will scarce credit at first that it can do so much
+mischief--it's only a little drop, or a glass or two, but the drop
+becomes a stream, and the glass a mighty river, and down goes all before
+it, money, home, love, character, peace, everything.  But see, that's
+the jail on our left now.  If there were more total abstainers, we
+shouldn't want such a costly building, nor so many policemen, as we do
+now.  Here, as in the old country, the drink is at the bottom of nine-
+tenths of the crime.  And now we're just coming up to the top of Hindley
+Street.  Look down it; it's a busy street; you can see right away
+through Rundle Street, which is a continuation of it, to the Park Lands
+beyond.  Now, just take a fact about the drinking habits of this colony.
+You'll suppose, of course, that this street wants lighting at night.
+Well; how is this done?  We have no gas as yet; no doubt we shall have
+it by-and-by.  Well, then, look along each side of the street, and
+you'll see ordinary lamps projecting from houses at tolerably regular
+intervals.  These houses are all public-houses.  Every publican is bound
+by law to keep a lamp burning outside his house every dark night; and
+these lamps light the street very creditably.  I use the word
+`creditably' simply in reference to the lighting; doesn't that speak
+volumes?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Hubert; "I fear it tells of abundant crime and
+misery."
+
+"It does.  But we mustn't dwell on the dark side now, for I want this to
+be a bright day for us all.  You see we've some nice shops in Hindley
+Street."
+
+"Yes," said Frank; "but what a remarkable variety of style in the
+houses; there are no two of them, scarcely, alike in size, shape, or
+height.  They remind me rather of a class of boys in our dame school at
+home, where big and little boys, tidy and ragged, stand side by side in
+one long row."
+
+"You are rather severe upon us," said Mr Oliphant laughing; "but we are
+gradually improving; there is, however, plenty of room yet for
+improvement, I allow."
+
+And now they turned into King William Street, and drew up at the front
+of a large store.
+
+"This is my business place," said the merchant; "but I shall not ask you
+to look at it now; we must be off again immediately for my country
+residence among the hills.  Here, James, give the horses a little water;
+now then, let us start again."
+
+A few minutes more and they were rapidly crossing the Park Lands.
+
+"These are gum trees, I suppose?" asked Hubert.
+
+"Yes, they are," said his uncle; "but not worth much, either for timber,
+ornament, or shade.  You wouldn't get much relief from the heat under
+the poor shadow of their tassel-like foliage."
+
+"What a very strange noise!" exclaimed Frank; "it seems as if a number
+of stocking-looms were at work in the air."
+
+"See now," said Mr Oliphant, "the force of habit.  I'm so used to the
+sound, that I was utterly unconscious of it.  It is made by the cicada,
+an insect very common in this country.  And now, where do you suppose
+we're coming to?  This little village or township before us is Norwood,
+and then comes Kensington.  I've no doubt it will strike you as one of
+the oddest things in this colony, till you get used to it, though, of
+course, it isn't peculiar to this colony, how places are made close
+neighbours here, which are very widely separated in the old country,
+from which they are borrowed."
+
+"But why not retain the native names?" asked Hubert.
+
+"Ah, why not, indeed?  What can be more musical in sound than Yatala,
+Aldinga, Kooringa, Onkaparinga.  But then, we could not always find
+native names enough; and, besides this, the Englishman likes to keep the
+old country before him, by giving his place some dear familiar name that
+sounds like home."
+
+In about another half hour they reached their destination among the
+hills.
+
+"The Rocks," as Mr Abraham Oliphant's place was called, was situated on
+a hill-side, high above the valley, but on a moderate slope.  A stout
+post-and-rail fence surrounded the estate, and one of a more compact
+nature enclosed the more private grounds.  The house was large, and
+covered a considerable surface, as there were no rooms above the
+basement floor.  The front windows commanded a magnificent view of the
+city of Adelaide, with its surrounding lands, suburbs, and neighbouring
+villages, and of the sea in the extreme distance.  At the back was a
+remarkable group of rocks, from which the estate took its name; these
+leaned on the hill-side, and were encased in a setting of wild shrubs
+and creeping plants of extraordinary beauty.  A stream of purest spring
+water perpetually flowed through a wide cleft in these rocks, and
+afforded a deliciously cool supply, which never failed in the hottest
+summer.  The house was surrounded by a wide verandah, which, like the
+building itself, was roofed with shingles, and up the posts and along
+the edge of which there climbed a profusion of the multiflora rose.  The
+garden sloped away from the house, and contained an abundance of both
+flowers and fruits.  There was the aloe, and more than one kind of
+cactus, growing freely in the open air, with many other plants which
+would need the hothouse or greenhouse in a colder climate.  Fig-trees,
+vines, standard peach, and nectarine trees were in great abundance,
+while a fence of the sharp Kangaroo Island acacia effectually kept all
+inquisitive cattle at a respectful distance.  The inside of the house
+was tastefully but not unduly furnished, ancient and modern articles
+being ranged side by side in happy fraternity; for a thorough colonist
+suits his own taste, and is tolerably independent of fashion.
+
+"Welcome once more to Australia!" exclaimed Mr Oliphant to his young
+companions; "and more especially welcome to `the Rocks.'  Come in: here,
+let me introduce you to my eldest daughter and youngest son--Jane and
+Thomas, here's your cousin Hubert; and here's his friend, Mr Frank
+Oldfield; you must give them a hearty welcome."
+
+All parties were soon at their ease together.  A sumptuous dinner-tea
+was soon spread on the table of the dining-room--the windows of which
+apartment commanded a view, across the valley, of the city and distant
+sea.
+
+Mr Oliphant was a widower, with two daughters and four sons.  Jane had
+taken her mother's place; the two eldest sons were married, and settled
+in other parts of the colony; the third son lived with his younger
+sister at a sheep-station about twenty-five miles up the country; the
+youngest son, Thomas, a boy about fifteen years old, was still at home,
+and rode in daily to the collegiate school, returning in the evening.
+
+"You'll meet your other cousins before long, I hope," said his uncle to
+Hubert.  "They know, of course, that you are coming; and when I send
+them word that you are actually come, we shall have them riding in at an
+early day.  I suppose you're used to riding yourself?  Ah, that's right;
+then you're pretty independent.  Horseflesh is cheap enough here, but it
+isn't always of the choicest quality; however, I can furnish you with
+what you'll want in that way.  All your cousins ride, of course, by a
+sort of colonial instinct.  An Australian and his horse almost grow
+together like a centaur."
+
+"And do you ride much, Cousin Jane?" asked Hubert.
+
+"Oh, never mind the `cousin;' you must drop it at once," said Mr
+Oliphant.  "It's Jane, and you're Hubert.  But I beg Jane's pardon for
+smothering her answer."
+
+"Oh yes, Hubert," replied his cousin; "I ride, as a matter of course; we
+should never get over much ground, especially in the hot weather, if we
+walked as much as people seem to do in England.  But I have not yet
+heard how you left my dear aunt and uncle.  Seeing you seems half like
+seeing them; I've heard so much of them."
+
+"I suppose you hardly venture out kangaroo-hunting, Miss Oliphant?"
+asked Frank.
+
+"I have done so once or twice in the north," she replied; "but the
+kangaroo is not fond of so many white faces near his haunts, so he has
+retired from these parts altogether."
+
+"And you find you can all stand total abstinence here?" asked Hubert of
+his uncle.
+
+"Stand it!" exclaimed Mr Oliphant; "I should think so.  Why, my dear
+nephew, it don't need standing; it's the drink I couldn't stand.  You
+should see the whole lot of us when we meet at one of our great family
+gatherings.  Well, it's not quite the thing perhaps for a father to
+say--and yet I fancy it's not very far from the truth--that you'll not
+see a stouter, a better grown--Jane, shall I say handsomer?--I certainly
+may say a healthier, family anywhere; and not one of us is indebted to
+any alcoholic stimulant for our good looks."
+
+"You have always, then, been an abstainer since you came to the colony?"
+asked Frank.
+
+"No, I have not; more's the pity," was the reply; "but only one or two
+of my children remember the day when I first became an abstainer.  From
+the oldest to the youngest they have been brought up without fermented
+stimulants, and abhor the very sight of them."
+
+"And might I ask," inquired Frank, "what led to the change in your case,
+if the question is not an intrusive one?"
+
+"Oh, by all means; I've nothing to conceal in the matter," said Mr
+Oliphant; "the story is a very simple one.  But come, you must make a
+good tea; listening is often as hungry work as talking.  Well, the
+circumstances were just these: when I was left a widower, more than
+fourteen years ago, Jane was about twelve years old and Thomas only six
+months; I was then a moderate drinker, as it is called--that is to say,
+I never got drunk; but I'm sure if any one had asked me to define
+`moderation,' I should have been sorely puzzled to do so; and I am quite
+certain that I often exceeded the bounds of moderation, not in the eyes
+of my fellow-creatures, but in the eyes of my Creator--ay, and in my own
+eyes too, for I often felt heated and excited by what I drank, so as to
+wish that I had taken a glass or two less,--yet all this time I never
+overstepped the bounds, so as to lose my self-control.  At this time I
+kept a capital cellar--I mean a cellar largely stocked with choice wines
+and spirits.  I did not live then at `the Rocks,' but in a house on the
+skirts of the city.  You may be sure that I needed a good nurse to look
+after so many growing children who had just lost their dear mother, and
+I was happy enough to light upon a treasure of a woman--she was clean,
+civil, active, faithful, honest, forbearing, and full of love to the
+children; in a word, all that I could desire her to be.  She took an
+immense deal of care off my hands, and I could have trusted her with
+everything I had.  Months passed by, and I began to give large dinner-
+parties--for I was rather famous for my wines.  Besides this, I was
+always having friends dropping in, happy to take a glass.  All went on
+well--so it seemed--till one afternoon a maid came running into my
+sitting-room and cried out, `Oh, sir, nurse is so very ill; what must we
+do?'  I hurried up-stairs.  There was the poor woman, sure enough, in a
+very miserable state.  I couldn't make it out at all.
+
+"`Send for a doctor at once!'  I cried.  In a little while the doctor
+came.  I waited most anxiously for his report.  At last he came down,
+and the door was closed on us.
+
+"`Well, doctor,' I cried, in great anxiety; `nothing very serious, I
+hope?  I can ill afford to lose such a faithful creature.'
+
+"I saw a curious smile on his face, which rather nettled me, as I
+thought it very ill-timed.  At last he fairly burst out into a laugh,
+and exclaimed, `There's nothing the matter with the woman, only she's
+drunk.'
+
+"`Drunk!'  I exclaimed with horror; `impossible!'
+
+"`Ay, but it's both possible and true too,' said the doctor; `she'll be
+all right, you'll see, in a few hours.'
+
+"And so she was.  I then spoke out plainly and kindly to her.  Oh, I
+shall never forget her misery and shame.  She made no attempt to deny
+her fault, or even excuse it; she was heart-broken; she said she must go
+at once.  I urged her to stay, and to turn over a new leaf.  I promised
+to overlook what had passed, and told her that she might soon regain her
+former place in my esteem and confidence.  But I could not keep her; she
+could not bear to remain, much as she loved the children; she must go
+elsewhere and hide her disgrace.
+
+"`But how came you to contract such a habit?' said I.  And then she told
+me that she began by finishing what was left in the glasses of my
+friends and myself after dinner; then, as I never locked up the
+cellaret--the thirst becoming stronger and stronger--she helped herself
+from the bottles, till at last she had become a confirmed drunkard.  I
+pitied her deeply, as you may well understand; and would have kept her
+on, but nothing would induce her to stay.  However, I had learned a
+lesson, and had made up my mind: I was determined that thenceforward no
+one should ever sow the first seeds of drunkenness in my house, or have
+any countenance in drinking from my _example_.  The very morning the
+unhappy woman left, I made a vigorous onslaught on the drink.
+
+"`Fetch up the cellar!'  I cried; and the cellar was forthwith fetched
+up.  Beer barrels, wine bottles and spirit-bottles, dozens of pale ale
+and bitter beer, were soon dragged into light.
+
+"`Now, fetch me the kitchen-poker!'  I shouted; it was brought me, and I
+commenced such a smashing as I should think has never been witnessed
+before, nor is likely to be witnessed again.  Right and left, and all
+round me, the yard was flooded with malt liquors, spirits and wines.
+Then I knocked out the bungs of the casks, and joined their contents to
+the flood.  You may suppose there was some little staring at all this,
+but it mattered nothing to me.  I was resolved that what had ruined my
+poor nurse should never ruin any one else at my cost, or in my house; so
+from that day to this no alcoholic stimulant has passed my lips; nor
+been given by me to man, woman, or child; nor, please God, ever shall
+be.--Now, my dear young friends, you have had the history of what first
+led me to become a total abstainer."
+
+There was a silence for several minutes, which was at last broken by
+Hubert's asking,--
+
+"And what became of the unhappy woman, dear uncle?"
+
+"Ah! don't ask me.  She went from bad to worse while she remained in the
+colony.  For so it commonly is with drunkards, but most of all with
+female drunkards.  I've known--and I thank God for it--many a reformed
+male drunkard; but when women take decidedly to drinking, it is very
+rare indeed to see them cured--at least, that has been _my_ experience.
+I got poor nurse away with a friend of mine who was going in a
+temperance ship to England, hoping that the habit might be broken off
+during the voyage.  But, alas! she broke out again soon after reaching
+home, and died at last a miserable death in a workhouse.  But I see you
+look rather fagged, Mr Oldfield.  Shall we take a turn in the garden
+before it gets dark, and then perhaps you'll like a little music?"
+
+And now we must leave Abraham Oliphant and Australia for a while, and
+return to Langhurst, and some of the earlier characters of our story.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+AN EXPLOSION IN THE PIT.
+
+"No letter yet from our Sammul," cried Betty, wearily and sadly, as she
+came from the mill on a dreary night in the November after her brother's
+sudden departure.  "I thought as how he'd have been sure to write to me.
+Well, I suppose we must make ourselves content till he's got over the
+sea.  But oh, it'll be weary work till we've heard summat from him."
+
+"Hush, hush, there's a good bairn," said her mother, though the tears
+were all the while running down her own cheeks as she spoke; "don't take
+on so; you'll drive your fayther clean crazy.  He's down in the mouth
+enough already.  Come, don't fret in that fashion, Thomas; Sammul'll
+come back afore long: you've been crouching down by the hearth-stone
+long enough.  If you'll be guided by me, you'll just take a drop of good
+ale, it'll liven you up a bit; you want summat of the sort, or you'll
+shrivel up till you've nothing but skin on your bones."
+
+"Ale!" cried Thomas, indignantly; "ale'll not make me better--ale won't
+make me forget--ale won't bring back our Sammul, it's driven him far
+enough away."
+
+"Well," said his wife, soothingly, "you must go your own way; only, if
+you keep a-fretting of that fashion, you'll not be able to do your work
+gradely, and then we shall all have to starve, and that'll be worse for
+you still."
+
+"Better starve," replied her husband moodily, "nor ruin body and soul
+with the drink; I'll have no more of it."
+
+"Well, you can please yourself;" replied Alice, "so long as you don't
+take me with you.  But I must have my drop of beer and my pipe, I can't
+live without 'em; and so you may rest content with that; it's the truth,
+it is for sure."
+
+"Mother," said Betty, mournfully, "can you really talk in that fashion
+to fayther, when you know how the drink's been the cause of all the
+misery in our house, till it's driven our poor Sammul away to crouch him
+down on other folk's hearth-stones in foreign parts?  I should have
+thought we might all have learnt a lesson by this time."
+
+"It's no use talking, child," replied her mother; "you go your way, and
+take your fayther with you if he's a mind, but don't think to come over
+me with your talk; I'm not a babe, I can take care of myself.  The
+drink's good enough in moderation, and I'm going to be moderate.  But
+lads and wenches is so proud now-a-days that mothers has to hearken and
+childer does the teaching."
+
+Poor Betty! she sighed, and said no more.  Johnson also saw that it was
+no use reasoning with his wife.  Her appetite for the drink was
+unquenchable.  It was clear that she loved it better than husband,
+children, home, conscience, soul.  Alas! poor Thomas's was a heavy
+burden indeed.  Could he only have been sure that his son was alive and
+well, he could have borne his troubles better; but now he seemed crushed
+to the very earth.  And yet, strange as it might seem, he did not feel
+tempted to fly to the drink again for consolation; he rather shrank from
+the very sight and thought of it.  Ah, there were many prayers being
+offered up for him; unseen hands were guiding him, and in his home was
+the daily presence of one who was indeed a help and comfort to him.  He
+clung to Betty now, and she to him, with a peculiar tenderness.  _Her_
+heart was full of the warm glow of unselfish love, and his was learning
+to expand and unfold under the influence of her bright example.  Theirs
+was a common sorrow and a common hope, as far as Samuel was concerned.
+Why had he not written to them from Liverpool, or from whatever port he
+had sailed from?  That he _had_ gone beyond the sea, they were both
+firmly convinced.  Betty, of course, had her own special sorrow.  She
+could not forget that terrible night--she could not forget the knife and
+the blood--though she was still fully persuaded that her brother had not
+laid violent hands on himself.  But oh, if he would only write, what a
+load of misery would be taken off both their hearts; yet no letter came.
+November wore away, December came and went, the new year began, still
+there was no news of Samuel.  Ned Brierley did all he could to console
+the unhappy father and daughter, and with some success.  He was very
+urgent with Thomas to sign the pledge, and thus openly join himself to
+the little band of total abstainers, and Thomas had pretty nearly made
+up his mind to do so.  He had hesitated, not so much because he dreaded
+the sneers and jeers of his companions--he had become callous to those--
+but he shrank from encountering the daily, wearing, gnawing trial of his
+wife's taunts and reproaches; for the restless uneasiness of a
+conscience not yet quite seared into utter insensibility made the
+unhappy woman doubly bitter in her attacks upon abstinence and
+abstainers.  And thus matters were when February opened.
+
+It was on a clear frosty evening in the beginning of that month that
+Betty was returning from the mill.  They were running short time that
+week, and she was coming home about an hour earlier than usual.  The
+ground was hard and crisp, and the setting sun sank a misty red, while a
+greyish-yellow tint overspread the whole horizon.  Betty toiled slowly
+and listlessly up the hill, the old weight still on her heart.  She had
+nearly reached her home, when a sound fearfully loud and awful, like the
+discharge of the cannon of two conflicting armies underground in one
+vast but muffled roar, made her heart almost stand still with terror.
+The next instant a huge body of sulphurous smoke leaped high into the
+air from one of the pit-mouths.  In a moment the dreadful cry arose,
+"The pit's fired!"
+
+The next minute men, women, and children poured out from houses and
+cottages, horror and dismay on every face.  Near two hundred men and
+boys were down that pit; scarce a house but had one or more below.  Oh,
+who could adequately describe the dreadful scene of misery, wailing; and
+confusion which followed!
+
+Betty knew that her father was down, and she felt that in him all she
+had to cling to on earth was now, perhaps, torn from her for ever.  Men
+and women rushed past her towards the pit's mouth.
+
+"Lord help us," groaned one poor mother; "our Thomas and Matthew's
+down."
+
+"Fayther's there too," wailed Betty.  "Oh, the Lord keep him, and bring
+him up safe."
+
+"Where's our Bill?--oh, have you seen anything of our Bill?" shrieked
+another poor distracted mother.
+
+Then came crowds of men, with overlookers and policemen.  Then a hasty
+consultation was held as to what must be done.
+
+"Who'll volunteer to go down with me and send the poor fellows up?"
+cries the overlooker.  Three men come forward, and step with him into
+the tub; not a word do they say, but they look quite calm and self-
+possessed--they have a work to do, and they will do it.  And now the
+women are clustered round on the pit-bank in haggard expectation, the
+very picture of woe, some wild in their cries, others rocking themselves
+to and fro to still, if it may be, their misery; and others bowed down
+to the earth, the very image of mute despair.  And now the wheels
+rapidly revolve, the rope runs swiftly, at last it slackens speed.  The
+tub reaches the top--two ghastly forms are lifted from it--the women,
+with straining eyes, pressing forward to look.  Oh, what a sight! the
+fiery stream has scorched the faces and limbs of the poor men almost out
+of knowledge.  Again the tub descends, again other sufferers are raised,
+and still the same sad work continues hour after hour, far into the
+night.  Some of those brought up are quite dead, poor blackened corpses;
+others still live, and are borne home, moaning piteously.  From the
+limbs of many the skin peels with a touch.  Some, less terribly injured,
+run and leap like madmen when they reach the open fresh air; some come
+up utterly blinded.  And oh, what a vale of tears is that village of
+Langhurst the livelong night!  Some call in vain for fathers, husbands,
+brothers; they have not yet been found.  Some wring their hands over
+bodies which can never live again till the resurrection morning; some
+lovingly tend those who lie racked with agony on their beds, every limb
+writhing with fiery anguish; while some poor victims are so scorched and
+blackened that none can be found to claim them--one can only be known by
+his watch-chain, so completely is he burnt out of all remembrance.  And
+what of poor Johnson?  Hour after hour Betty and her mother watched near
+the pit's mouth, sick with sorrow and suspense, pressing forward as each
+fresh tub-load landed its miserable burden, still to be disappointed;
+while the wailings, the cries, the tears of those who claimed the dead,
+the dying, the scorched, on every fresh arrival, only added fuel to
+their burning grief.  At last, about midnight, three men were brought up
+and laid on the bank, all apparently lifeless.
+
+"Oh, there's fayther!"
+
+"Oh, there's Thomas!" burst from the lips of Betty and her mother.
+
+"Oh, take him home, take him home, live or dead," entreated Betty.
+
+He was placed accordingly on a shutter, and carried by four men to his
+home.  There they laid the body down on the couch, and left it alone
+with the mother and daughter.  Alice wrung her hands in the bitterest
+distress.
+
+"Oh, he's dead, he's dead; he'll never speak to us any more."
+
+"Mother, hush!" said Betty, softly; "he's not dead, I can see his lips
+move and his breast heave.  Maybe the Lord'll be merciful to us, and
+spare him.  O Father in heaven," she cried, throwing herself on her
+knees, "do hear us, and spare poor fayther, for Jesus' sake."
+
+The sufferer uttered a deep groan.
+
+"Ay, ay, Betty," cried her mother, "the Lord be praised, there's life in
+him yet.  Run to old Jenny's, and ask her to come and help us.  Her
+master's all right; she'll be glad to give a helping hand to a neighbour
+in trouble."
+
+But there was no need to send for assistance, for in a minute after, the
+cottage was filled with women, eager to use both hands and tongues in
+the sufferer's service.  They carried him to his bed, and gently removed
+his clothes from him, though not without great difficulty, for he was
+fearfully burnt; and the act of taking off his clothing caused him great
+agony, as the skin came away with some of his inner garments.  At last
+he was made as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances, till
+the doctor should come and dress his burns.  Betty sat watching him,
+while her mother and the other women gathered round the fire below, with
+their pipes and their drink, trying to drown sorrow.  She, poor girl,
+knew where to seek a better consolation; she sought, and found it.  At
+last her mother's step was again on the stairs; she came up unsteadily,
+and with flushed face approached the bed where her husband lay.  She had
+a mug of spirits in her hand.
+
+"I'll give him a drop of this," she said thickly; "it'll put life into
+him in no time."
+
+"Oh, mother," cried Betty, "you mustn't do it; it's wrong, you'll be the
+death of him."
+
+But Alice would not heed her.  She put some of the spirits in a spoon to
+the poor sufferer's lips.  She was astonished to find him perfectly
+conscious, for he closed his mouth tightly, and shook his scarred face
+from side to side.
+
+"He won't have it, mother," said Betty, earnestly.
+
+"Give me a drink of cold water," said the poor man in a low voice.
+Betty fetched it him.  "Ay, that's it; I want nothing stronger."
+
+Alice slipped down again to her companions below, but her daughter
+remained in the chamber.
+
+It was a desolate room, as desolate as poverty and drink could make it;
+and now it looked doubly desolate, as the scorched figure of the old
+collier lay motionless on the low, comfortless, curtainless bed.  A dip
+in an old wine bottle standing on a box threw a gloomy light on the
+disfigured features, which looked almost unearthly in the clear
+moonlight which struggled with the miserable twinkling of the feeble
+candle, and fell just across the bed.  Betty sat gazing at her father,
+full of anxious and sorrowful thoughts.  How solemn the contrast between
+the stillness of that sick-chamber and the Babel of eager tongues in the
+house below!  She felt unspeakably wretched, and yet there was a sense
+of rebuke in her conscience, for she knew how great a mercy it was that
+her father's life was spared.  She sighed deeply, and then, suddenly
+rising quietly, she lifted the lid of the box, and brought out a well-
+worn Bible.  She was not much of a scholar, but she could make out a
+verse or a passage in the Holy Book with a little pains.  She had put
+her mark against favourite passages, and now she turned to some of
+these.
+
+"`Come, unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give
+you rest.'"
+
+She paused on each word, uttering it half aloud, as she travelled
+carefully from one line to another.
+
+"Ah, that's what I want," she said to herself, but in an audible
+whisper.  "It means, Come to Jesus, I know."
+
+She turned over several more leaves, and then she read again, and rather
+louder,--
+
+"`Be careful for nothing; but in everything, by prayer and supplication,
+with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God.  And the
+peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts
+and minds, through Christ Jesus.'
+
+"Oh yes, I must do so myself; I must tell the Lord all my trouble; my
+heart'll be lighter, when I've told it all to him."
+
+She stopped, and put the book aside, resting her head on her hands.  She
+was startled by hearing her father say,--
+
+"It's very good.  Read on, Betty, my lass."
+
+"Oh, fayther, I didn't think you could hear me!  What shall I read?"
+
+"Read about some poor sinner like me, that got his sins pardoned by
+Jesus Christ."
+
+"I can't justly say where it is, fayther; but I know there's one place
+where it tells of a sinful man as had his sins pardoned by Jesus Christ,
+even when he hung upon the cross.  I know well it was when the Lord were
+a-dying.  Ah, here it is;" and she read,--
+
+"`And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If
+thou be Christ, save thyself and us.  But the other answering, rebuked
+him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same
+condemnation?  And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of
+our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.  And he said unto
+Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.  And Jesus
+said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in
+paradise.'"
+
+"Do you think, Betty," asked Johnson very earnestly, "I should go to be
+with Jesus, if I were to die now?  Oh, if this pain's so bad, what must
+hell-fire be?"
+
+"Fayther," replied his daughter quietly, "the Lord's spared you for
+summat.  I prayed him to spare you, and he'll not cast you off now as
+he's heard my prayer.  If you take him at his word, he'll not tell you
+as you're mistaken--he'll not say he hasn't pardon in his heart for
+you."
+
+"I believe it, I will believe it," said the poor man, the tears running
+down his cheeks.  "O God, be merciful to me a sinner, for Jesus Christ's
+sake,"--there was a pause; then, after a while, he added, "I think as
+he'll hear me, Betty."
+
+"I am sure he will," she answered; "but you must lie still, fayther, or
+maybe you'll do yourself harm.  The doctor'll be here just now."
+
+It was a night of darkness and terror, yet even on that sad night there
+was glorious light which man's eye could not see, for there was joy in
+the presence of the angels of God over at least one penitent sinner in
+Langhurst.  But how full of gloom to most!  Many had been cut off in the
+midst of their sins, and those who mourned their loss sorrowed as those
+who have no hope.  Two of poor Johnson's persecutors were suddenly
+snatched away in their impenitence and hardness of heart, a third was
+crippled for life.  Yet the drink kept firm hold of its victims--the
+very night of the explosion the "George" gathered a golden harvest.
+Death in its ghastliest forms only seemed to whet the thirst for the
+drink.  At one house, while the blackened corpse lay in its clothes on
+the outside of the bed, preparatory to its being laid out, the dead
+man's widow and her female helpers sat refreshing themselves, and
+driving away care, with large potations of tea, made palatable with rum,
+and that so near the corpse that any one of the party could have touched
+it without rising from her seat.
+
+The shock caused by the explosion was a terrible one, but its stunning
+effects passed away, only to leave the most who felt that shock harder
+and more indifferent than ever.  Yet in one house that awful blow was
+found to be a messenger of mercy.  Thomas Johnson rose from his bed of
+pain a changed and penitent man.  Oh, what a happy day it was to Ned
+Brierley and his little band of stanch Christian abstainers, when Thomas
+came forward, as he soon did, and manfully signed the pledge, as
+resolved henceforth to be, with God's help, consistent and
+uncompromising in his entire renunciation of all intoxicating drinks!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
+
+MIDNIGHT DARKNESS.
+
+When Thomas Johnson signed the pledge, a storm of persecution broke upon
+him which would have rather staggered an ordinary man; but, as we have
+said before, Thomas was no ordinary character, but one of those men who
+are born to do good service under whatever banner they may range
+themselves.  He had long served in Satan's army, and had worked well for
+him.  But now he had chosen another Captain, even the Lord Jesus Christ
+himself, and he was prepared to throw all the energy and decision of his
+character into his work for his new and heavenly Master, and to endure
+hardness as a good soldier of the Captain of his salvation.  For he had
+need indeed to count the cost.  He might have done anything else he
+pleased, except give up the drink and turn real Christian, and no one
+would have quarrelled with him.  He might have turned his wife and
+daughter out to starve in the streets, and his old boon-companions would
+have forgotten all about it over a pot of beer.  But to sign the
+pledge?--this was indeed unpardonable.  And why?  Because the drunkard
+cannot afford to let a fellow-victim escape: he has himself lost peace,
+hope, character, home, happiness, and is drinking his soul into hell,
+and every fellow-drunkard reformed and removed from his side makes his
+conscience more bare, and exposed to the glare of that eternal wrath
+which he tries to shut out from his consciousness, and partly succeeds,
+as he gathers about him those like-minded with himself.  So every petty
+insult and annoyance was heaped upon Johnson by his former companions:
+they ridiculed his principles, they questioned his sincerity, they
+scoffed at the idea of his continuing firm, they attributed all sorts of
+base motives to him.  He was often sorely provoked, but he acted upon
+the advice of that holy man who tells us that, when people throw mud at
+us, our wisdom is to leave it to dry, when it will fall off of itself,
+and not to smear our clothes by trying of ourselves to wipe it off.  He
+had hearty helpers in Ned Brierley and his family; Ned himself being a
+special support, for the persecutors were all afraid of him.  But his
+chief earthly comforter was Betty.  Oh, how she rejoiced in her father's
+conversion and in his signing the pledge!  Oh, if Samuel would only
+write, how happy she should be!  She would write back and tell him of
+the great and blessed change wrought by grace in their father, and maybe
+he would come back again to them when he heard it.  But he came not, he
+wrote not; and this was the bitterest sorrow to both Betty and her
+father.  Johnson knew that his own sin had driven his son away, and he
+tried therefore to take the trial patiently, as from the hand of a
+Father who was chastening him in love.  Betty longed for her brother's
+return, or at least to hear from him, with a sickening intensity, which
+grew day by day; for though she was really convinced that he had not
+destroyed himself, yet dreadful misgivings would cross her mind from
+time to time.  The knife, with its discoloured blade, was still in her
+possession, and the mystery about it remained entirely unexplained.  But
+she too prayed for patience, and God gave it to her; for hers was the
+simple prayer of a loving, trusting, and believing heart.  Perhaps,
+however, the sorest trial to both Johnson and his daughter was the
+conduct of Alice.  She was bitterly incensed at her husband's signing
+the pledge.  No foul language was too bad for him; and as for Betty, she
+could hardly give her a civil word.  They both, however, bore it
+patiently.  At one time she would be furious, at another moodily silent
+and sulky for days.  But what made the miserable woman most outrageous
+was the fact that her husband would not trust her with any money, but
+put his wages into the hands of Betty, to purchase what was wanted for
+the family, and to pay off old scores.  She was therefore at her wits'
+end how to get the drink, for the drink she would have.  Johnson, with
+his characteristic decision, had gone round to the different publicans
+in Langhurst and the neighbourhood, taking Ned Brierley with him as
+witness, and had plainly given them to understand that he would pay for
+no more drink on his wife's account.  He then came home and told her
+what he had done, when he was alone with her and Betty.  Poor miserable
+woman!  She became perfectly livid with passion, and was about to pour
+out her rage in a torrent of furious abuse, when Johnson rose from his
+seat, and looking her steadily in the face, said in a moderately loud
+and very determined voice,--
+
+"Alice, sit you down and hearken to me."
+
+There was something in his manner which forced her to obey.  She dropped
+into a chair by the fire, and burst into a hurricane of tears.  He let
+her spend herself, and then, himself sitting down, he said,--
+
+"Alice, you've known me long enough to be sure that I'm not the sort of
+man to be turned from my purpose.  You and I have lived together many
+years now, and all on 'em's been spent in the service of the devil.  I'm
+not laying the blame more on you nor on myself.  I've been the worse, it
+may be, of the two.  But I can't go on as I have done.  The Lord has
+been very merciful to me, or I shouldn't be here now.  I've served the
+old lad too long by the half, and I mean now to serve a better Mayster,
+and to serve him gradely too, if he'll only help me--and our Betty says
+she's sure he will, for the Book says so.  Now, if I'm to be a gradely
+servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, I must be an honest man--I must pay my
+way if I can; but I can't pay at all if my brass is to go for the
+drink--and you know, Alice, you can't deny it, that you'd spend the
+brass in drink if I gave it yourself.  But, more nor that, if I'd as
+much brass as'd fill the coal-pit, shaft and all, I'd not give my
+consent to any on it's going for the drink.  I know that you can do
+without the drink if you've a mind.  I know you'll be all the better by
+being without it.  I know, and you know yourself, that it's swallowed up
+the clothes from your own back, and starved and beggared us all.  If
+you'll give it up, and live without it like a Christian woman should,
+you'll never have an afterthought; and as soon as I see that you can be
+trusted with the brass, I'll give it you again with all my heart.  Come,
+Alice, there's a good wench; you mustn't think me hard.  I've been a
+hard husband, and fayther too, for years, but I must be different now;
+and I'll try and do my duty by you all, and folks may just say what they
+please."
+
+Alice did not reply a word; her passion had cooled, and she sat rocking
+herself backwards and forwards, with her apron to her eyes, sobbing
+bitterly.  She knew her husband too well to think of deliberately
+attempting to make him change his purpose, yet she was equally resolved
+that the drink she would and must have.  At last she said, with many
+tears,--
+
+"Well, Thomas, you must please yourself.  I know well, to my cost, that
+I might as well try and turn the hills wrong side out as turn you from
+what you've set your heart on.  But you know all the while that I can't
+do without my little drop of drink.  Well, it makes no odds whether I
+starve to death or die for want of the drink--there'll be short work
+with me one road or the other; and then you and Betty can fill up my
+place with some of them teetottal chaps you're both so fond on, when I'm
+in the ground."
+
+Johnson made no reply, but shortly after left for his work, as he was in
+the night-shift that week.
+
+Alice sat for a long time turning over in her mind what steps to take in
+order to get the means for satisfying her miserable appetite.  She had
+no money; she knew that none of the publicans would trust her any
+longer; and as for pawning any articles, she had pawned already
+everything that she dared lay her hands on.  Her only hope now was in
+Betty; she would speak her fair, and see if she could not so work upon
+her feelings as to induce her to give her part of her own wages.
+
+"Betty," she said, softly and sadly, "you're all the wenches I have; ay,
+and all the childer too, for our Sammul's as good as dead and gone, we
+shall never see him no more--ah, he _was_ a good lad to his poor mother;
+he'd never have grudged her the brass to buy a drop of drink.  You'll
+not do as your father's doing--break your old mother's heart, and let
+her waste and die out for want of a drop of drink."
+
+"Mother," replied Betty very quietly, but with a great deal of her
+father's decision in her manner, "I can't go against what fayther's made
+me promise.  I've worked for you ever since I were a little wench scarce
+higher nor the table; and I'll work for you and fayther still, and you
+shall neither on you want meat nor drink while I've an arm to work with;
+but I can't give you the brass yourself 'cos it'll only go into the
+publican's pocket, and we've nothing to spare for him."
+
+"You might have plenty to spare if you'd a mind," said her mother,
+gloomily.
+
+"No, mother; all fayther's brass, and all my brass too, 'll have to go
+to pay old debts for many a long week to come."
+
+"Ah, but you might have as much brass as you liked, if you'd only go the
+right way to work."
+
+"As much brass as I like.  I can't tell what you mean, mother; you must
+be dreaming, I think."
+
+"I'm not dreaming," said Alice.  "There's Widow Reeves, she's no better
+wage nor you, and yet she's always got brass to spare for gin and
+baccy."
+
+"Widow Reeves! mother--yes, but it's other folks' brass, and not her
+own."
+
+"Well, but she manages to get the brass anyhow," said her mother coolly.
+
+"I know she does, mother, and she's the talk of the whole village.
+She's in debt to every shop for miles round, and never pays nowt to
+nobody."
+
+"Maybe she don't," said Alice carelessly, "but she's always brass to
+spare in her pocket, and so might you."
+
+"I couldn't do it," cried Betty vehemently, "I couldn't do it, mother.
+It's a sin and a shame of Widow Reeves--she takes her brass for a bit to
+the last new shop as turns up, and then runs up a long score, and leaves
+without paying."
+
+"Well, that's her concern, not mine," said the other; "I'm not saying as
+it's just right; you needn't do as she does--but you're not bound to pay
+_all_ up at once, you might hold back a little each now and then, and
+you'd have summat to spare for your poor old mother."
+
+"But I've promised fayther, and he trusts me."
+
+"Promised fayther!--you need say nowt to your fayther about it--he'll
+never be none the wiser."
+
+"O mother, mother, how can you talk so, after all as is come and gone!
+How can you ask me to cheat my own poor fayther, as is so changed? he's
+trying gradely to get to heaven, and to bring you along with him too,
+and you're wanting to pull us all back.  Mother, mother, how can you do
+it?  How can you ask me to go agen fayther when he leaves all to me?
+You're acting the devil's part, mother, when you 'tice your own child to
+do wrong.  Oh, it's cruel, it's cruel, when you know, if I were to
+deceive fayther it'd break his heart.  But it's the drink that's been
+speaking.  Oh, the cursed drink! that can pluck a mother's heart out of
+her bosom, and make her the tempter of her own child!  I must leave you,
+mother, now.  I durstn't stay.  I might say summat as I shouldn't, for I
+am your child still.  But oh, mother, pray God to forgive you for what
+you've said to me this night; and may the Lord indeed forgive you, as I
+pray that I may have grace to do myself."  So saying, she hastily threw
+her handkerchief over her head and left the cottage.
+
+And what were Alice Johnson's thoughts when she was left alone?  She sat
+still by the fire, and never moved for a long time.  Darkness, midnight
+darkness, a horror of darkness, was settling down on her soul.  She had
+no false support now from the drink, and so her physical state added to
+her utter depression.  Conscience began to speak as it had never spoken
+before; and then came pressing on her the horrible craving, which she
+had no means now of gratifying.  The past and the future fastened upon
+her soul like the fiery fangs of two fearful snakes.  She saw the wasted
+past--her children neglected; her home desolate, empty, foul,
+comfortless; her husband and herself wasting life in the indulgence of
+their common sin, living without God in the world;--she saw herself the
+cause, in part at least, of her son's flight; she remembered how she had
+ever set herself against his joining the band of total abstainers;--and
+now she beheld herself about the vilest thing on earth--a mother
+deliberately tempting her daughter to deceive her father, that herself
+might gratify her craving for the drink.  Oh, how she loathed herself!
+oh, what a horror crept over her soul!  Could she really be so utterly
+vile? could she really have sunk so low?  And then came up before her
+the yet more fearful future: her husband no longer a companion with her
+in her sin--she must sin alone; her daughter alienated from her by her
+own act; and then the drink, for which she had sold herself body and
+soul, she must be without it, she must crave and not be satisfied--the
+thought was intolerable, it was madness.  But there was a farther
+future; there was in the far distance the blackness of darkness for
+ever, yet rendered visible by the glare of a coming hell.  Evening
+thickened round her, but she sat on.  The air all about her seemed
+crowded with spirits of evil; her misery became deeper and deeper; she
+did not, she could not repent--and what then?
+
+An hour later Betty returned from Ned Brierley's.  Where was Alice?
+Betty looked for her, but she was nowhere to be found; she called her,
+but there was no answer.  She concluded that she had gone into a
+neighbour's, and sat down waiting for her till she grew weary: her heart
+was softened towards her; she would pray for her, she would try still to
+win her back from the bondage of Satan; she was her mother still.  Hour
+after hour passed, but still her mother did not come.  Betty took a
+light, and went up into the chamber to fetch her Bible.  Something
+unusual near the door caught her eye--with a scream of terror she darted
+forward.  Oh, what a sight! her miserable mother was hanging behind the
+door from a beam!  Betty's repeated screams brought in the neighbours;
+they found the wretched woman quite dead.  She had sinned away her day
+of grace; and was gone to give in her account of body, soul, time,
+talents, utterly wasted, and of her life taken by her own hands; and
+all--all under the tyranny of the demon of drink.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
+
+PLOTTING.
+
+When Betty's cries of horror brought the neighbours round her, they
+found the poor girl lying insensible by the corpse of her mother, which
+was still suspended by the beam behind the door.  They cut down the
+wretched creature, and tried everything to restore her to consciousness;
+but life was fled--the day of trial was over.  Johnson returned from the
+pit, from whence he was summoned, to find his wife dead, destroyed by
+her own hand; and Betty utterly prostrate on her bed with the terrible
+and agonising shock.
+
+Oh, drink, drink! most heartless of all fiendish destroyers, thou dost
+kill thy victims with a smile, plucking away from them every stay and
+support that keeps them from the pit of destruction; robbing them of
+every comfort, while hugging them in an embrace which promises delight,
+and yet crushes out the life-blood both of body and soul; making
+merriment in the eye and on the tongue, while home, love, character, and
+peace are melting and vanishing away.  Wretched Alice! she might have
+been a happy mother, a happy wife, with her children loving, honouring,
+and blessing her; but she had sold herself for the drink, and a life of
+shame and a death of despair were her miserable reward.
+
+Poor Johnson's life was now a very weary one.  He had hope indeed to
+cheer him--a better than any earthly hope, a hope full of immortality.
+Still he was but a beginner in the Christian life, and had hard work to
+struggle on through the gloom towards the guiding light through the deep
+shadows of earth that were thickening around him.  Betty tried to cheer
+him; but, poor girl, she needed cheering herself.  Her brother's flight;
+the uncertainty as to what had really become of him; the hope deferred
+of hearing from him which made her heart sick; and now the dreadful
+death of her unhappy mother, and that, too, so immediately following on
+their last miserable conversation;--all these sorrows combined weighed
+down her spirit to the very dust.  She longed to flee away and be at
+rest; but she could not escape into forgetfulness, and she would not fly
+from duty.  So a dark cloud hung over that home, and it was soon to be
+darker still.  Ned Brierley was appointed manager of a colliery in
+Wales, at a place a hundred miles or more from Langhurst, and a few
+months after Alice Johnson's death he removed to his new situation, with
+all his family.  A night or two before he left he called upon Johnson.
+
+"Well, my lad," he said, taking a seat near the fire, "I reckon you and
+I mayn't meet again for many a long day.  But if you're coming our side
+at any time, we shall be right glad to see you, and Betty too, and give
+you a hearty total abstainer's welcome."
+
+"I'm afraid," said Betty, "that fayther nor me's not like to be
+travelling your road.  I'm sure I'm glad you're a-going to better
+yourselves, for you desarve it; but it'll be the worse for us."
+
+"Ay," said Johnson despondingly; "first one prop's taken away, and then
+another; and after a bit the roof'll fall in, and make an end on us."
+
+"Nay, nay, man," said his friend reprovingly, "it's not come to that
+yet.  You forget the best of all Friends, the Lord Jesus Christ.  He
+ever liveth; and hasn't he said, `I will never leave thee nor forsake
+thee?'"
+
+"That's true," replied the other; "but I can't always feel it.  He's
+helped me afore now, and I know as he'll help me again--but I can't
+always trust him as I should."
+
+"Ah, but you _must_ trust him," said Brierley earnestly; "you must stick
+firm to your Saviour.  And you must stick firm to your pledge, Thomas--
+promise me that."
+
+"Yes; by God's help, so I will," was the reply; "only I see I shall have
+hard work.  But it's no odds, they can't make me break if I'm resolved
+that I won't."
+
+"No, fayther," said his daughter; "and they can't go the breadth of a
+thread further nor the Lord permits."
+
+"That's true, Betty, my lass," said Ned; "so cheer up, Thomas.  I feel
+sure--I can't tell you why, but I do feel sure--that the Lord'll bring
+back your Sammul again.  He'll turn up some day, take my word for it.
+So don't lose heart, Thomas; but remember how the blessed Book says,
+`Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.'"
+
+"God bless you," said Johnson, squeezing Ned's hand hard; "you're a
+gradely comforter."
+
+And so they parted.
+
+It was not long, however, before Thomas's patience was tried to the
+uttermost.  His enemies let him alone for a short time after his wife's
+death--for there is a measure of rugged consideration even among
+profligates and drunkards.  But a storm had been brewing, and it fell at
+last when Ned Brierley had been gone from Langhurst about a month.  A
+desperate effort was made to get Johnson back to join his old companions
+at the "George," and when this utterly failed, every spiteful thing that
+malice could suggest and ingenuity effect was practised on the
+unfortunate collier, and in a measure upon Betty also.  But, like the
+wind in the fable, this storm only made Johnson wrap himself round more
+firmly in the folds of his own strong resolution, rendered doubly strong
+by prayer.  Such a thought as yielding never crossed his mind.  His only
+anxiety was how best to bear the cross laid on him.  There were, of
+course, other abstainers in Langhurst besides the Brierleys, and these
+backed him up, so that by degrees his tormentors began to let him alone,
+and gave him a space for breathing, but they never ceased to have an eye
+towards him for mischief.
+
+The month of October had now come, when one evening, as Johnson and
+Betty were sitting at tea after their day's work, there was a knock at
+the door, and immediately afterwards a respectable-looking man entered,
+and asked,--
+
+"Does not Thomas Johnson live here?"
+
+"Yes; he does," was Johnson's reply.
+
+"And I suppose, then, you're Thomas Johnson yourself?" said the
+stranger.
+
+"I reckon you're not so far wrong," was the answer.
+
+"Ah, well; so it is for sure," broke out Betty.  "Why, you're the
+teetottal chap as came a-lecturing when me and our poor Sammul signed
+the pledge."
+
+"Sit ye down, sit ye down," cried her father; "you're welcome to our
+house, though it is but a sorrowful one."
+
+"I think, my friend," said the stranger, "that you are one of us now."
+
+"You may well say _now_," replied the other, "for when you was here
+afore, you'd a gone out of the door a deal quicker nor you came in; but,
+I bless the Lord, things are changed now."
+
+"Yes, indeed," said the other, "it is the Lord's doing, and it is
+marvellous in our eyes; though, indeed, he does work such wonderful
+things that we've daily cause to bless and praise him.  Well, my
+friend--for we are friends, I see, in the best of bonds now--I have not
+long to stay now, but I just want to ask you one thing.  I should like
+to have a total abstinence meeting next month in Langhurst.  Will you
+say a word for us?  We want some working man who has been rescued,
+through God's mercy, from the chains of the drink, to stand up and tell,
+in a simple, straightforward way, what he once was, and what God has
+done for him as a pledged abstainer; and I judge, from what I hear, that
+you're just the man we want."
+
+Johnson paused for a while.
+
+"I don't know," he said, shaking his head; "I don't know.  I'm not so
+sure it'll do at all."
+
+"Oh, fayther," cried Betty, "you must do what the gentleman axes you.
+It may do good to some poor creatures, and lead 'em to sign.  It's only
+a small candle-end as the Lord's given such as we are, but we must light
+it, and let it shine."
+
+"Well," said her father, slowly, "maybe I oughtn't to say `No;' and yet
+you may be sure, if it gets talked on in the village, it's little peace
+as I shall have."
+
+"Well, my friend," said the stranger, "of course I don't wish to bring
+you into trouble.  Still this is one of the ways in which you may take
+up a cross nobly for your Saviour, and he'll give the strength to carry
+it."
+
+"Say no more," replied Johnson; "if the Lord spares me, they shall hear
+a gradely tale from me."
+
+It was soon noised abroad in Langhurst that Thomas Johnson was to give
+an account of himself as a reformed man and a total abstainer, at a
+meeting to be held in the village in the following month of November.
+
+His old companions were half mad with rage and vexation.  What could be
+done?  They were determined that he should be served out in some way,
+and that he should be prevented from appearing at the meeting.  Come
+what would, he should not stand up and triumph in his teetotalism on the
+platform--that they were quite resolved on.  Some scheme or plan must be
+devised to hinder it.  And fortune seemed to favour them.
+
+A short time after it became generally known that Johnson was to speak,
+a young lad might be seen hurrying home in his coal-pit-clothes to a
+low, dirty-looking cottage that stood on the outskirts of the village.
+
+"Mother," cried the boy, as soon as he reached the house and could
+recover his breath, "where's fayther?"
+
+"He's not come home yet," said the mother; "but what ails you, John?"
+
+"Why, mother," said the boy, with trembling voice, "fayther gave me a
+shilling to get change just as we was leaving the pit-bank, and I
+dropped it somewhere as I were coming down the lane.  I'm almost sure
+Ben Taylor's lad found it, and picked it up; but when I axed him if he
+hadn't got it, he said `No,' and told me he'd knock my head against the
+wall if I didn't hold my noise.  I see'd fayther go by at the lane end,
+but he didn't see me.  He'll thrash the life out of me if he finds I've
+lost the shilling.--I've run for my life, but he'll be here directly.
+You must make it right, mother--you must."
+
+"Ay, ay, lad; I'll speak to your fayther.  He shan't beat you.  Just
+keep out of the road till he's cooled down a bit.  Eh! here he comes for
+sure, and a lot of his mates with him.  There--just creep under the
+couch-chair, lad.  They'll not tarry so long.  Fayther'll be off to the
+`George' as soon as he's had his tea."
+
+So the poor boy crept under the couch, the hanging drapery effectually
+hiding him from the view of any who might come in.  Another moment, and
+Will Jones the father entered the house with half-a-dozen companions.
+
+"Well, and what's up now?" asked the wife, as the men seated
+themselves--some on chairs, and one or two on the couch.
+
+"Never you heed, Martha," said her husband; "but just clap to the door,
+and take yourself off to Molly Grundy's, or anywhere else you've a
+mind."
+
+"I can tell you I shall do nothing of the sort," was the reply.  "A
+likely thing, indeed, as I'm to take myself off and leave my own hearth-
+stone while a parcel of chaps is turning the house out of the windows.
+If you're up to that sort of game, or if you want to be talking anything
+as decent folk shouldn't hear, you'd better be off to the `George.'
+It's the fittest place for such work."
+
+"Eh! don't vex Martha," said one of the men.  "She'll promise not to
+split, I'll answer for it.  Won't you, Martha?"
+
+"Eh, for sure," said Martha, "if you're bound to have your talk here,
+you needn't be afraid of me; only I hope you're not going to do anything
+as'll bring us into trouble."
+
+"Never fear," said her husband; "there, sit you down and mend your
+stockings, and the less you heed us the less you'll have to afterthink."
+
+The men then began to talk together in a loudish whisper.
+
+"Tommy Jacky'll be making a fine tale about you and me," said Jones.
+"Eh, what a sighing and groaning there will be; and then we shall see in
+the papers, `Mr Johnson finished his speech amidst loud applause.'"
+
+"Eh, but we must put a stopper in his mouth," said another.
+
+"But how must we do it?" asked a third.  "Thomas is not the chap to be
+scared out of what he's made up his mind to."
+
+"No," remarked another; "and there's many a one as'd stand by him if we
+were to try anything strong."
+
+"Can't we shame him at the meeting?" asked another.
+
+"Nay," said Jones, "he's gradely.  You couldn't shame him by telling
+folks what he was; and all as knows him knows as he's kept his teetottal
+strict enough."
+
+"I have it!" cried a man, the expression of whose face was a sad mixture
+of sensuality, shrewdness, and malice.  "I'll just tell you what we'll
+do.  You know how people keeps saying--`What a changed man Johnson is!
+how respectable and clean he looks! how tidy he's dressed when he goes
+to church on a Sunday!--you've only to look in his face to see he's a
+changed man.'  Now, I'll just tell you what we'll do, if you've a mind
+to stand by me and give me a help.  It'll do him no harm in the end,
+and'll just take a little of the conceit out on him.  And won't it just
+spoil their sport at the meeting!"
+
+"Tell us what it is, man," cried all the others eagerly.
+
+"Well, you know the water-butt at the back of Thomas's house.  Well, you
+can reach the windows of the chamber by standing on the butt.  The
+window's not hard to open, for I've often seen Alice throw it up; and
+I'm sure it's not fastened.  Now, just suppose we waits till the night
+afore the meeting; that'll be the twenty-second--there'll be no moon
+then.  Thomas won't be in the night-shift that week.  I know he sleeps
+sound, for I've heard their Betty say as it were the only thing as kept
+'em up, that they slept both on 'em so well.  Suppose, then, as we gets
+a goodish-sized furze bush or two, and goes round to the back about two
+o'clock in the morning.  We must have a rope or two; then we must take
+off our clogs, and climb up by the water-butt.  The one as goes up first
+must have a dark lantern.  Well, then, we must creep quietly in, and
+just lap a rope loosely round the bed till we're all ready.  Then we'll
+just tighten the rope so that he can't move, and I'll scratch his sweet
+face all over with the furze; and one of you chaps must have some
+gunpowder and lamp-black ready to rub it well into his face where it's
+been scratched.  You must stuff a clout into his mouth if he offers to
+holler.  We can do it all in two minutes by the help of the lantern.
+The light'll dazzle him so as he'll not be able to make any on us out;
+and then we must slip out of the window and be off afore he's had time
+to wriggle himself out of the ropes.  Eh, won't he be a lovely pictur
+next day!--his best friends, as they say, won't know him.  Won't he just
+look purty at the meeting!  There's a model teetottaller for you!  Do
+you think he'll have the face to say then, `You've heard, ladies and
+gentlemen, what I once was; you see what I am now?'  Oh, what a rare
+game it'll be!"
+
+This proposition was received by the rest of the company with roars of
+laughter and the fullest approbation.
+
+"It'll be first-rate," said Jones, "if we can only manage it."
+
+"Surely," said another, "he'll never dare show his face out of the
+door."
+
+"Ah, but," suggested one, "what about Betty?  She's sure to wake and
+spoil it all.  It's too risky, with her sleeping close by."
+
+"No," said another man, "it'll just be all right.  Betty'll be off at
+Rochdale visiting her aunt.  Our Mary heard Fanny Higson and Betty
+talking it over at the mill a day or two since.  `So you'll not be at
+the meeting?' says Fanny.  `Why not?' says Betty.  `'Cos you'll be off
+at your aunt's at Rochdale,' says Fanny.  `Ah, but I'm bound to be back
+for the meeting, and hear fayther tell his tale,' says Betty.  `I'll be
+back some time in the forenoon, to see as fayther has his Sunday shirt
+and shoes, and his clothes all right, and time enough to dress myself
+for the meeting.  Old Jenny'll see to fayther while I'm off.  It'll be
+all right if I'm at home some time in the forenoon.'  So you see, mates,
+it couldn't be better; as the parson says, it's quite a providence."
+
+"Well, what say you?" cried Will Jones.  "Shall we strike hands on it?"
+
+All at once shook hands, vowing to serve out poor Johnson.
+
+"Ay," exclaimed one, "we must get the chap as takes photographs to come
+over on purpose.  Eh, what a rare cart-der-wissit Tommy'll make arter
+the scratching.  You must lay in a lot on 'em, Will, and sell 'em for
+sixpence a piece.  You'll make your fortune by it, man."
+
+"Martha," said Jones, turning to his wife, "mind, not a word to any
+living soul about what we've been saying."
+
+"I've said I won't tell," replied his wife; "and in course I won't.  But
+I'm sure you might find summat better to do nor scratching a poor
+fellow's face as has done you no harm.  I'm not fond of your teetottal
+chaps; but Tommy's a quiet, decent sort of man, and their Betty's as
+tidy a wench as you'll meet with anywhere; and I think it's a shame to
+bring 'em any more trouble, for they've had more nor their share as it
+is.  It'd be a rare and good thing if some of you chaps'd follow Tommy's
+example.  There'd be more peace in the house, and more brass in the
+pocket at the week end."
+
+"Hold your noise, and mind your own business," shouted her husband,
+fiercely.  "You just blab a word of what we've been saying, and see how
+I'll sarve you out.--Come, mates, let's be off to the `George;' we shall
+find better company there."
+
+So saying, he strode savagely out of the cottage, followed by his
+companions.  When they were fairly gone, the poor boy slipped from his
+hiding-place.
+
+"Johnny," said his mother, "if you'll do what your mother bids you, I'll
+give your fayther the change for the shilling out of my own pocket, and
+he'll never know as you lost it."
+
+"Well, mother, I'll do it if I can."
+
+"You've heard what your fayther and t'other chaps were saying?"
+
+"Yes, mother; every word on't."
+
+"Well, John, I promised I wouldn't let out a word of it myself; but I
+didn't say that _you_ shouldn't."
+
+"Eh, mother, if I split, fayther'll break every bone in my body."
+
+"But how's your fayther to know anything about it?  He knows nothing of
+your being under the couch-chair.  I can swear as I haven't opened my
+lips to any one out of the house, nor to any one as has come into it.
+You just slip down now to Thomas's, and tell their Betty you wants to
+speak with her by herself.  Tell her she mustn't say a word to any one.
+She's a good wench.  She's sharp enough, too; she'll keep it all snug.
+She were very good to me when our Moses were down with the fever, and I
+mustn't let her get into this trouble when I can lend her a helping hand
+to get her out."
+
+"But, mother," said her son, "what am I to tell Betty?"
+
+"Why, just tell her all you've heard, and how you were under the couch-
+chair, and how I promised myself as I wouldn't split.  Tell her she must
+make no din about it, but just keep her fayther out of the way.  He may
+go off to his brother Dick's, and come home in the morn, and who's to
+say as he's heard anything about the scratching."
+
+"Well, mother," said John, "I'll do as you say.  Betty's a good wench;
+she's given me many a kind word, and many a butter cake too, and I'd not
+like to see her fretting if I could help it."
+
+"There's a good lad," said his mother; "be off at once.  Fayther's safe
+in the `George.'  It'll be pretty dark in the lane.  You can go in at
+the back, and you're pretty sure to find Betty at home.  Be sharp, and
+I'll keep your tea for you till you come back again."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+FLITTING.
+
+The twenty-second of November, the day before the total abstinence
+meeting, arrived in a storm of wind and rain.  Everything was favourable
+to the conspirators.  They had met several times to arrange their plans,
+but had always talked them over in the open air and in the dark, under a
+hedge, or at the end of a lane.  Martha never alluded to the subject
+with her husband.  He had once said to her himself--
+
+"Mind what you've promised."
+
+She replied,--
+
+"Never fear.  I said I wouldn't tell, and I haven't told.  I haven't
+breathed a word to any one as wasn't in the house the night when you
+talked it over."
+
+Her husband was satisfied.
+
+Betty was gone to her aunt's, and it was positively ascertained that she
+was not to return that night.  Johnson had clearly no intention of
+spending the night away from home, for, as he was leaving the pit-bank,
+when Will Jones stepped up to him and said,--
+
+"Well, Thomas, I suppose you'll have a rare tale to tell about your old
+mates to-morrow; we must come all on us and hearken you."
+
+He had quietly replied,--
+
+"I hope, Will, you'll hear nothing as'll do any of you any harm, and I
+hope you wish me none, as I'm sure I don't wish any harm to you.  I
+mustn't tarry now, for our Betty's off; and I've much to do at home, for
+to-morrow'll be a busy day for me."
+
+A little later on, towards nine o'clock, one of the men in the plot
+passed by Johnson's house, and heard his voice in conversation with some
+one else.  All, therefore, was in a right train for their scheme to
+succeed.  At ten o'clock the whole party met in a lane near Will
+Jones's.
+
+"It's all right," said the man who had heard Johnson in conversation
+with another man a short time before.  "Thomas'll be fast asleep afore
+long.  The window's all right, too; I just slipped round to the back and
+looked at it."
+
+"Well," said Jones, "now we must all on us go home.  We mustn't be seen
+together.  We're all to meet in the field when the church clock strikes
+two.  Who's got the powder and the lamp-black?"
+
+"I have," replied a voice.
+
+"And who's got the ropes?"
+
+"I have," whispered another.
+
+"Well, that's all right," said Will, with a low, chuckling laugh.  "I've
+got the lantern and furze.  I've picked out some with a rare lot of
+pricks on't.  I reckon he'll not look so handsome in the morning."
+
+Quietly and stealthily they separated, and shrunk off to their own
+houses.
+
+A few hours later, and several dusky figures were slipping along with as
+little noise as possible towards the dwelling of the poor victim.  It
+was still very boisterous, but the rain had almost ceased.  Thick, heavy
+clouds, black as ink, were being hurried across the sky, while the wind
+was whistling keenly round the ends of the houses.  There were gaslights
+which flickered in the gale along the main road; but everything was in
+the densest gloom at the rear of the buildings and down the side
+streets.  As the church clock struck two, the first stroke loud and
+distinct, the next like its mournful echo--as the sound was borne away
+by the fitful breeze, the conspirators crept with the utmost caution to
+the back of Johnson's house.  Not a sound but their own muffled
+footsteps could be heard.  Not a light was visible through any window.
+No voice except that of the wailing wind broke the deep stillness.  The
+black walls of the different dwellings rose up dreary and solemn, with
+spectral-looking pipes dimly projecting from them.  The drip, drip of
+the rain, as it fell off the smoky slates, or streamed down the walls,
+giving them here and there a dusky glaze, intensified the mournful
+loneliness of the whole scene.
+
+"Crouch you down under the water-butt," whispered Ben Stone, the man who
+had proposed the scheme, and who now acted as leader.
+
+"Will, give me your shoulder--where's the lantern?"
+
+In another moment he was close to the window, which was gently raised,
+but at that instant something struck him on the back, he uttered a half-
+suppressed exclamation, and nearly loosed his hold.
+
+"It's only a cat," whispered one of the men below.  "All's right."
+Stone again raised himself to the window, and pushed it farther up; then
+he drew himself down out of sight and listened.  Not a sound came from
+the chamber to show that Johnson's sleep was disturbed.  Again the man
+raised himself.  He had previously taken off his clogs, as had also the
+others.  Very gradually and warily, with suppressed breath, he lowered
+himself on to the floor.  All was safe so far.  Betty had slept here,
+but her bed was now empty; indeed, to Ben Stone's surprise, the bedstead
+was bare both of mattress and bedclothes.  Johnson's was the inner
+chamber.  Ben stole softly to the door, all was dark and quiet; he could
+just make out the bed, and that a figure lay upon it.  He hastily caused
+the light of the lantern to flash on the recumbent form for a single
+moment, it seemed to him to move; he crouched down close to the floor,
+and listened--again all was still.  He was now convinced that Johnson
+lay there in a deep sleep.  Now was the time.  Stepping back to the
+window on tiptoe, he put out his head, and whispered,--
+
+"All's right; come up as quietly as you can."
+
+They were all soon in the outer chamber.
+
+"Now," said Stone in a low voice, "you give me the furze--there, that'll
+do.  Will, have you got the pot with the powder and lamp-black?--that's
+your sort--where's the ropes?--all right--now then."
+
+All reached the floor of the outer room without any mishap, and then,
+treading with the utmost caution, approached the bed in the inner room.
+The sleeper did not stir.  Ben Stone threw the light upon the prostrate
+figure, which lay coiled up, and apparently quite unconscious.  A rope
+was now thrown loosely round, the men crawling along the floor, and just
+raising themselves on one elbow as they jerked it lightly across the
+bedstead; then another coil was made higher up, still the sleeper did
+not stir hand or foot.
+
+"Now, then," cried Ben, half out loud, and throwing the full blaze of
+the lantern on the bed's head; in a moment the other men had drawn the
+ropes tight, and Jones leant over with his pot.  But before Ben had time
+to plunge the furze upon the unhappy victim's face, a suppressed cry
+broke from the whole group.  It was no living being that lay there, but
+only a bundle of old carpeting, with a dirty coverlid thrown over it.
+The next instant the truth burst upon them all.  Johnson was gone.  They
+looked at one another the very picture of stupid bewilderment.  A hasty
+flash of the lantern showed that there was no other bed in the chamber.
+
+"Well, here's a go," whispered Jones; "the bird's flown, and a pretty
+tale we shall have to tell."
+
+"Stop," said Ben, in an under-voice, and motioning the others to keep
+quiet, "maybe he's sleeping on the couch-chair in the house."
+
+"I'll go and see," said Jones.
+
+Cautiously he descended the stairs, terrified at every creak they made
+under his weight.  Did he hear anything?  No; it was only the pattering
+of the rain-drops outside.  Stealthily he peeped into the kitchen; no
+one was there, the few smouldering ashes in the grate being the only
+token of recent occupation.  So he went back to his friends in the
+chamber.
+
+"Eh, see, what's here!" cried one of the men, in an agitated voice;
+"look on the floor."
+
+They turned the light of the lantern on to the chamber-floor, and a
+strange sight indeed presented itself.  Right across the room, in
+regular lines, were immense letters in red and black adhering to the
+boards.
+
+"Ben, you're a scholar," said Jones; "read 'em."
+
+Stone, thus appealed to, made the light travel slowly along the words,
+and read in a low and faltering voice,--
+
+"_No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God_."
+
+Then he passed on to the red letters, and the words were,--
+
+"_Prepare to meet thy God_."
+
+A deathlike stillness fell on the whole party, who had hitherto spoken
+in loud whispers.  Terror seized the hearts of some, and bitter shame
+stung the consciences of others.
+
+"We must get out of this as fast as we can," said Jones.  "If we're
+taken roving about the house this fashion, we shall all be clapped in
+prison for housebreakers.  Least said about this, mates, soonest mended.
+We'd best hold our tongues.  Old Tommy's clean outwitted us; he has for
+sure.  Maybe it serves us right."
+
+All made their way back as hastily as possible through the window, and
+separated to their several homes, only too glad to have escaped
+detection.
+
+And what was become of Thomas Johnson?  Nobody could tell.  When the
+morning arrived, old Jenny went to the house, but the door was locked.
+A piece of furze, an old rag, and some black-looking stuff were found
+near the water-butt at the back, but what they could have to do with
+Johnson's disappearance no one could say.  He was, however, manifestly
+gone, and Betty too, for neither of them made their appearance that day.
+The meeting was held, but no Thomas Johnson made his appearance at it,
+and his friends were lost in conjecture.  But days and weeks passed
+away, and nothing turned up to gratify or satisfy public curiosity in
+the matter.  Jones never spoke of it to his wife or any one else, and
+the rest of the party were equally wise in keeping their own counsel as
+to the intended assault and its failure.  The landlord of Johnson's
+house claimed the scanty furniture for the rent, and no one turned up to
+dispute the claim.  So all traces of Thomas Johnson were utterly lost to
+Langhurst.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+FALLING AWAY.
+
+And now we must leave the mystery for a future unravelling, and return
+to Abraham Oliphant and his guests at "The Rocks."
+
+For several days Hubert and Frank remained with Mr Oliphant, riding out
+among the hills and into the town, as pleasure or business called them.
+But an idle, objectless life was not one to suit Hubert; and Frank, of
+course, could not continue much longer as a guest at "The Rocks."  It
+was soon settled that the nephew should assist his uncle, and Frank
+determined to look-out for a home.  It was arranged that Jacob Poole
+should come to him as soon as he was settled, and in the meanwhile Mr
+Oliphant found the boy employment.  Unfortunately for himself, Frank
+Oldfield was not in any way dependent for his living on his own
+exertions.  His father allowed him to draw on him to the amount of three
+hundred pounds a year, so that, with reasonable care, he could live very
+comfortably, especially if he voluntarily continued the total abstinence
+which he had been compelled to practise on board ship.  The reader is
+aware that he had never been a pledged abstainer at any time.  Even when
+most overwhelmed with shame, and most anxious to regain the place he had
+lost in Mary Oliphant's esteem and affection, he would not take the one
+step which might have interposed a barrier between himself and those
+temptations which he had not power to resist, when they drew upon him
+with a severe or sudden strain.  He thought that he was only asserting a
+manly independence when he refused to be pledged, whereas he was simply
+just allowing Satan to cheat him with a miserable lie, while he held in
+reserve his right to commit an excess which he flattered himself he
+should never be guilty of; but which he was secretly resolved not to
+bind himself to forego.  Thus he played fast and loose with his
+conscience, and was really being carried with the tide while he fancied
+himself to be riding safely at anchor.  Had he then forgotten Mary?  Had
+he relinquished all desire and hope of seeing her once more, and
+claiming her for his wife?  No; she was continually in his thoughts.
+His affection was deepened by absence and distance; but by a strange
+infatuation, spite of all that had happened in the past, he would always
+picture her to himself as his, irrespective of his own steadfastness and
+sobriety.  He knew she would never consent to be a drunkard's wife, yet
+at the same time he would never allow himself to realise that he could
+himself forfeit her hand and love through the drunkard's sin.  He would
+never look steadily at the matter in this light at all.  He was sober
+now, and he took for granted that he should continue to be so.  It was
+treason to himself and to his manhood and truth to doubt it.  And so,
+when, after he had been about a month in the colony, he received a
+letter from Mrs Oliphant full of kindly expressions of interest and
+hopes that, by the time he received the letter, he would have formally
+enrolled himself amongst the pledged abstainers, he fiercely crumpled up
+the letter and thrust it from him, persuading himself that he was justly
+annoyed that the permanence of his sober habits should be doubted;
+whereas, in truth, the sting was in this, that the reading of the letter
+dragged out from some dark recess of his consciousness the conviction
+that, with all his high resolve and good intentions, he was standing on
+an utterly sandy foundation, and leaning for support on a brittle wand
+of glass.  And thus he was but ill-fortified to wrestle with his special
+temptation when he settled down, a few weeks after his arrival, in a
+commodious cottage not very far from "The Rocks."  His new dwelling was
+the property of a settler, who, having realised a moderate fortune, and
+wishing to have a peep at the old country, was glad to let his house for
+a term of three years at a reasonable rent.  The rooms were small but
+very snug, the fittings being all of cedar, which gave a look of
+refinement and elegance to the interior.  There were good stables,
+coach-house, and offices, and a well of the purest water--a great matter
+in a place where many had no water at all except what dropped from the
+heavens, or had to content themselves with brackish wells.  There was a
+lovely garden, with everything in fruit and flower that could be
+desired; while, in the fields around, grew the aromatic gum, the
+canidia, or native lilac, with its clusters of purple blossoms, and the
+wattle, with its waving tufts of almond-scented flowers.
+
+When Jacob joined his master in his Australian home, he hardly knew how
+to express his delight and admiration.
+
+"Well, Jacob," said Frank, "you're likely to have plenty of fresh air
+and exercise if you stay with me.  I shall want you to be gardener,
+groom, and valet.  Mrs Watson,"--(a widow who had undertaken the
+situation of housekeeper)--"will look after the house, and the eatables
+and drinkables."
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Jacob, "I'll do my best; but I shall have to learn,
+and you must excuse a few blunders at the first.  I shall manage the
+garden well enough, I reckon, after a bit, though I'm not certain which
+way the roots of the flowers grows in these foreign parts;--the
+cherries, I see, has their stones growing outside on 'em, and maybe the
+roots of the flowers is out in the air, and the flowers in the ground.
+As for the horses, I'm not so much of a rider; but I must stick to their
+backs, I reckon.  They'll be rayther livelier, some on 'em, I suppose,
+nor our old pit horses, as hadn't seen daylight for ten years or more.
+But as for being a wally, you must insense me into that, for I don't
+know anything about it.  If it's anything to do with making beds or
+puddings, I have never had no knowledge of anything of the sort."
+
+Frank was highly entertained at the poor boy's perplexity.
+
+"Oh, never fear, Jacob; where there's a will there's a way--and I see
+you've got the will.  I'll trust you to learn your gardening from Mr
+Oliphant's man at `The Rocks.'  You must go and get him to give you a
+lesson or two; and if the seeds should not come up at first, I must take
+it for granted that you've sown them wrong side upwards.  As for the
+riding, I'll undertake myself to make you a good horseman in a very
+little time.  So there's only one thing left, and that's the valet.  You
+needn't be afraid of it; it's nothing whatever to do with making beds or
+puddings--that's all in Mrs Watson's department.  What I mean by valet
+is a person who will just wait upon me, as you waited on Captain
+Merryweather on board ship."
+
+"Oh, is that it!" cried Jacob, greatly relieved; "then I can manage it
+gradely, I haven't a doubt."
+
+And he did manage it gradely.  Never was there a more willing learner or
+trustworthy servant--his was the service of love; and every day bound
+him more and more firmly to his young master with the cords of devoted
+affection.  Frank returned the attachment with all the natural warmth of
+his character.  He delighted in the rough openness, which never
+degenerated into rudeness or disrespect; for Jacob, while free and
+unconstrained in his manner, instinctively knew his place and kept it.
+There was also a raciness and good sense in his observations, which made
+Frank find in him a pleasant companion in their many wanderings, both on
+horse and on foot.  Frank was always a welcome guest at "The Rocks,"
+where he learned to value and reverence Abraham Oliphant, and to feel a
+hearty liking for his sons and daughters.  But his heart was over the
+water, and he felt that he could never settle alone and without Mary in
+that far-off land.  He often wrote to his mother, and also to Mary.  To
+the latter he expressed himself full of hope that he should be able to
+return home before many years were passed, and claim her for his own;
+but he never alluded to the cause of his temporary banishment, nor did
+he reply to the questions which she put to him on the subject of total
+abstinence, except by saying briefly that she might trust him, and need
+not fear.
+
+"Jacob," he said one day, as he concluded a letter to his mother, "I
+believe the mail leaves to-day for England, and these letters ought to
+be in Adelaide by three o'clock.  You shall ride in with them, and bring
+me out a `Reporter.'  By the way, isn't there any one in the old country
+you would like to write to yourself?  Perhaps you do write, only I've
+never noticed you doing so!"
+
+The colour flushed up into Jacob's face, as he replied, with some
+confusion and hesitation,--
+
+"Well, you see, sir--why--I'm not so sure--well--truth to tell, in the
+first place, I'm not so much of a scholar."
+
+"Ah, exactly," said his master; "but that need be no hindrance.  I shall
+be very glad to write for you, if you don't want to send any secrets,
+and you'll only tell me what to say."
+
+Jacob got very uneasy.  The tears came into his eyes.  He did not speak
+for several minutes.  At last he said, with much emotion,--
+
+"'Deed, sir, and you're very kind; but there's none as I care to write
+to gradely.  There's them as should be all the world to me, but they're
+nothing to me now.  I can't tell you just what it is; but it's even as
+I'm saying to you.  There's one as I should have liked--ah, well--she'll
+be better without it.  Thank you, sir; you're very kind indeed, but I
+won't trouble you."
+
+Frank saw that there was a secret; he had therefore too much delicacy of
+feeling to press Jacob any further; so he merely said,--
+
+"Well, at any time, if you like me to write home, or anywhere else for
+you, I shall be glad to do so.  And now you'd better be off.  Take
+little Silvertail; a canter will do her good.  I shall ride Roderick
+myself up through the gully.  You may tell Mrs Watson not to bring tea
+in till she sees me, as I may be late."
+
+Jacob was soon off on his errands, and his master proceeded slowly up
+the hilly gorge at the back of his house.
+
+"There's some mystery about Jacob," he said to himself; as he rode
+quietly along; "but I suppose it's the case with a great many who come
+to these colonies.  `Least said, soonest mended,' is true, I fancy, in a
+great many cases."
+
+It was a lovely afternoon.  The sun was pouring forth a blaze of light
+and heat, such as is rarely experienced out of tropical countries.  And
+yet, when the heat was most intense, there was an elasticity about the
+air which prevented any feeling of oppression or exhaustion.
+
+The road wound up through quaint-looking hills, doubled one into
+another, like the upturned knuckles of some gigantic hand.  Every now
+and then, at a bend in the track, the high lands, sloping away on either
+side, disclosed the distant town lying like a child's puzzle on the
+plain, with the shadowy flats and dim ocean in the far background.  By
+overshadowing rocks and down sudden steeps the road kept its irregular
+course; and now it would cleave its way along a mile of table-land,
+elevated above a perfect ocean of trees on either side, which seemed as
+though human hand or foot had never trespassed on their sombre solitude.
+Yet, every here and there the marks of destruction would suggest
+thoughts of man's work and presence.  Whole tracts of forest would be
+filled with half-charred trunks, the centres black and hollowed out, the
+upper parts green and flourishing as ever.
+
+Nothing, for a time, broke the silence of Frank's solitary ride, as he
+made his way along the serpentine road rising still higher and higher,
+and every now and then emerging upon broader and broader views of the
+plains and ocean beyond them, while the interlocking hills beneath his
+feet had dwindled down into a row of hillocks like funeral mounts in
+some Titanic graveyard.  And now, as he paused in admiration to gaze on
+the lovely view spread out before him, he felt the burning heat relieved
+for a moment by a flying cloud; he looked upward--it was a flight of the
+yellow-crested cockatoo, which passed rapidly on with deafening
+screeches.  A while after, and a flock of the all-coloured parakeet sped
+past him like the winged fragments of a rainbow.  Look where he would,
+all was beautiful: the sky above, a pure Italian blue--the distant ocean
+sparkling--the lands of the plain smiling in peaceful sunshine--the
+hills on all sides quaint and fantastic--the highlands around him thick
+with their forests--the sward, wherever trees were thickly scattered,
+enamelled with flowers of the brightest scarlet.  Oh, how sad that sin
+should mar the beauties with which the hand of God has so lavishly
+clothed even this fallen world.
+
+Frank's heart was filled with a delight that ascended into adoration of
+the Great Creator; then tenderer thoughts stole over him--thoughts of
+home, thoughts of the hearts which loved him still, spite of the past.
+Oh, how his spirit yearned for a sight of the loved and dear familiar
+faces he had left behind in the old but now far-off land!  Tears filled
+his eyes, and he murmured something like a prayer.  It was but for a
+little while, however, that thoughts like these kept possession of his
+heart; for he was brought rudely back to things before him by the rapid
+sound of horses' feet.  The next moment, round a turn of the road came a
+saddled horse without a rider, the broken bridle dangling from its head.
+
+"Stop her, if you please," cried a young lady, who was following at the
+top of her speed.
+
+Frank immediately crossed the path of the runaway animal, and succeeded
+in catching it.
+
+"I hope you have not been thrown or hurt," he said, as he restored it to
+its owner.
+
+"Oh no, thank you," she replied.  "I'm so much obliged to you.  We--that
+is, some friends and myself--are up in these hills to-day, on a
+picnicking excursion.  My mare was hung up to a tree, and while we were
+looking after the provisions, she broke her bridle and got off."
+
+Several gentlemen now came running up.  They thanked Frank for his
+timely help, and asked him if he would not come and join their party.
+There was a heartiness and cheeriness of manner about them which made it
+impossible for him to say, "No," so he assented, and followed them to an
+open space a short way off the road, round the next turn, where a very
+merry company were gathered among the trees, with the scarlet-
+embroidered sward for their table.
+
+"Pray, take a seat among us," said one of the gentlemen who had invited
+him.  "I'll secure your horse--is he tolerably quiet?"
+
+"Perfectly so; but you'd better take his saddle off, lest he should be
+inclined to indulge in a roll."
+
+"I am sure, sir, I owe you many thanks," said the young lady whose horse
+he had caught; "for, if you had not stopped my mare, she would have been
+half-way to Adelaide by this time, and one of us must have walked."
+
+Frank made a suitable reply, and was at once quite at ease with his new
+companions.  There were four gentlemen and as many ladies, the latter in
+the prime of life, and full of spirits, which the stranger's presence
+did not check.  No spot could be more lovely than the one chosen for
+their open-air meal.  Before them was the deep, sloping chasm, revealing
+the distant town and ocean, and clothed on either side with unbroken
+forests.  All around was the brilliant carpeting of flowers; overhead,
+the intensely blue sky, latticed here and there with the interlacing
+boughs of trees.  The dinner or luncheon was spread out on a white
+cloth, and consisted of the usual abundance of fowls, pies, and tarts,
+proper to such occasions, and flanked by what was evidently considered
+no secondary part of the refreshments--a compact regiment of pale ale,
+porter, wine, and spirit-bottles.  Under ordinary circumstances such a
+sight would have been very inviting; but it was doubly so to Frank,
+after his long and hot ride.  All were disposed to treat him, as the
+stranger, with pressing hospitality; but his own free and gentlemanly
+bearing, and the openness with which he answered the questions put to
+him, as well as the hearty geniality of his conversation, made all his
+new acquaintances delighted with him, and eager to supply his wants as
+their guest.  It is not, therefore, much to be wondered at that any
+half-formed resolutions as to total abstinence which he might have
+vaguely entertained soon melted away before the cordial entreaties of
+the gentlemen that he would not spare the ale, wine, or spirits.
+
+"You'll have found riding in such a sun thirsty work, I'm sure, sir,"
+said a stout, jolly-looking man, who was evidently one of the leaders of
+the party.  Frank made just a feeble answer about not drinking, and a
+pretence of holding back his glass, and then allowed himself to be
+helped first to one tumbler, then another, and then another, of foaming
+Bass.  He was soon past all qualms, regrets, or misgivings.
+
+"Capital stuff this," he said; "do you know where I can get some?"
+
+"Most proud to serve you, my dear sir," said the stout gentleman.  "I
+have a large stock on hand; anything in the way of ale, porter, wine, or
+spirits, I flatter myself no one in Adelaide is better able to supply;
+perhaps you'll kindly favour me with an order!"
+
+"Certainly," said Frank, and gave his address, and an order for ale,
+wine, and spirits to be sent over to his cottage the following day.  And
+now, from his long previous abstinence, what he had already drunk had
+begun to tell upon him.  He felt it, and rose to go, but his
+entertainers would not hear of his leaving them; for, under the
+excitement of the strong drink, he had been pouring forth anecdotes, and
+making himself in other ways so entertaining and agreeable, that his new
+friends were most anxious to detain him.  So wine and brandy were added
+to his previous potations; and when at last, with assistance, he mounted
+his horse, it was with the greatest difficulty he could retain his seat
+in the saddle.  And thus the whole party, singing, shouting, laughing,
+descended along the winding track, making God's beautiful creation
+hideous by the jarring of their brutal mirth; for surely that mirth is
+brutal which springs, not from a heart filled with innocent rejoicing,
+but from lips that sputter out the frenzies of a brain on fire with the
+stimulants of alcohol.  How Frank Oldfield got home he could not tell.
+His horse knew his road, and followed it; for, dumb brute as he was, his
+senses were not clouded by the unnatural stimulant which had stolen away
+the intellects of his _rational_ master.
+
+Darkness had settled down when horse and rider reached the slip-rail at
+the entrance of the field before Frank's house.  Jacob was there, for he
+had heard his master's voice some ten minutes earlier singing snatches
+of songs in a wild exaggerated manner.  Poor Jacob, he could hardly
+believe his ears, as he listened to "Rule Britannia" shouted out by
+those lips which, he had imagined, never allowed strong drink to pass
+them.
+
+"Is that you, Jacob, my boy?" cried Frank thickly.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Jacob sorrowfully.
+
+"Let down--shlip-rail--th-there's--good lad," added his master.
+
+"It's down," replied the other shortly.
+
+"Tchick--tchick, Roderick," cried Frank, almost tumbling over his
+horse's head.  At last they reached the house door.  Mrs Watson came
+out, candle in hand.
+
+"How are you, Mrs Watson?" hiccupped her master.  "Lend us a light--all
+right; that's poetry, and no mistake--ha, ha, ha! capital, Jacob, my
+boy, ain't it?" and he tumbled over one side of his horse, only saving
+himself from falling to the ground by catching hold of one of the posts
+of the verandah.  But we need not follow him further.  He slept the
+heavy drunkard's sleep that night, and rose the next morning feverish,
+sick, thirsty, degraded, humbled, miserable.  Poor Jacob's face would
+have been a picture, could it have been taken as he looked upon his
+master staggering into the house by the light of Mrs Watson's candle--a
+very picture it would have been of mingled astonishment, perplexity,
+distress, disgust.
+
+"Well," he said to himself moodily, "I thought the old lad had his hands
+full in the old country, but it's like he's not content with that; I'd
+as soon have thought of the Queen of England taking pick and Davy-lamp
+and going down to work in the pit, as of my young mayster coming home
+beastly drunk.  My word, it's awful; 'tis for sure."
+
+When master and servant met next day each avoided the other's eye.
+Frank spoke moodily, and Jacob answered surlily.  But it was not in
+Frank's nature to continue long in constraint of manner with any one,
+so, calling to his servant in a cheery voice,--
+
+"Here, Jacob," he cried, "I want you in the garden."  Jacob ran to him
+briskly, for there was a charm in his young master's manner which he
+could not resist.
+
+"Jacob," said Frank Oldfield, "you saw me last night as I trust you will
+never see me again, overcome with drink."
+
+"Ay, mayster," said the other, "I see'd you sure enough, and I'd sooner
+have see'd a yard full of lions and tigers nor such a sight as that."
+
+"Well, Jacob, it was the first, and I trust the last time too; it was
+wrong, very wrong.  I'm thoroughly ashamed that you should have seen me
+in such a plight.  I was betrayed into it.  I ought to have been more on
+my guard; you mustn't think any more of it; I'll take care it doesn't
+happen again."
+
+"Ah, mayster," said the other, "I shall be rare and glad if it doesn't.
+I hope you'll keep gradely teetottal, for the drink's a cheating and
+lying thing."
+
+"I hope so too," said Frank, and then the conversation dropped.
+
+But now he remembered that the wine, beer, and spirits which he had
+ordered were to come that very evening.  What was he to do?  Conscience
+said very plainly, "Stand forth like a man, be at once a total
+abstainer, it is your only safe course; tell Jacob all about it, and
+send a counter-order by him at once, with a note of apology; call to-
+morrow on the merchant, and tell him in a straightforward way that you
+feel it your duty to become an abstainer forthwith; thus you will at
+once show your colours, and will save yourself from much annoyance, and,
+what is better still, from sin; and sign the pledge, that you may have a
+barrier between yourself and the drink which all the world can
+understand."  Thus conscience spoke softly but clearly, as with the
+vibrations of a silver bell; but lust, with its hot hand, stilled those
+vibrations with a touch.  Frank would not counter-order the drink, for
+he loved it; he persuaded himself that he should be strictly moderate,
+while he was secretly determined to keep within his reach the means of
+excess.  And yet he was very anxious that Jacob should not be aware of
+the coming of any drink into the house.  So he watched hour after hour
+as evening drew on, feeling more like a felon bent on some deed of
+darkness than an honest, straightforward Englishman.  At last he saw the
+merchant's spring-cart in the distance.  Making some excuse for sending
+Jacob to a house about a quarter of a mile off, and setting Mrs Watson
+down in the kitchen to an interesting article in the newspaper, he met
+the cart at the gate, and assisted the driver to carry the hampers of
+strong drinkables, with all possible haste, into his bed-room.  Then,
+quickly dismissing the man, he locked himself into his chamber, and
+carefully deposited the hampers in a large cupboard near the head of his
+bed.  When he had completed all this he began to breathe freely again.
+And thus he commenced the downward course of unfaltering, deliberate
+deceit.  Hitherto he had deceived himself chiefly, keeping the truth in
+the background of his consciousness; now he was carefully planning to
+deceive others.  And oh, what a mean, paltry deceit it was--so low does
+rational, immortal man stoop when under the iron grasp of a master sin!
+And so, with carefully-locked door, and stealthy step, and cautious
+handling of glass and bottle, lest any one should hear, Frank Oldfield
+drank daily of the poison that was ruining his body and paralysing his
+moral nature; for whatever it might or might not be to others, it was
+assuredly poison to him.  Jacob Poole mused and wondered, and could not
+make him out--sometimes he saw him deeply depressed, at another time in
+a state of overboiling spirits and extravagant gaiety.  Poor Jacob's
+heart misgave him as to the cause, and yet he fully believed that there
+were no intoxicating liquors in the house.  But things could not remain
+in this position; there is no sin which runs with such accumulating
+speed as the drunkard's.  Frank would now be seldom riding to "The
+Rocks," and often to the town; he would stay away from home night after
+night, and no one knew what had become of him.  Poor Jacob began to get
+very weary, and to dread more and more that he should find his young
+master becoming a confirmed slave to the drink.  Frank's fine temper,
+too, was not what it once was, and Jacob had to wince under many a hasty
+word.
+
+At last his master began to find that his expenses were getting greatly
+in advance of his income.  He called one day at the bank, drew a cheque,
+and presented it over the counter.  The cashier took it to the manager's
+desk: there was a brief consultation, and then a request that Mr
+Oldfield would step into the manager's private room.
+
+"I am exceedingly sorry, Mr Oldfield," said the manager, "that we feel
+ourselves in a difficulty as to the cheque you have just drawn; the fact
+is that you have already overdrawn your account fifty pounds, and we
+hardly feel justified in cashing any more of your cheques till we
+receive further remittances to your credit."
+
+"Very well, sir," said Frank haughtily, and rising; "I shall transfer my
+account to some other bank, which will deal more liberally and
+courteously with me;" saying which, he hurried into the street in a
+state of fierce excitement.  When, however, he had had time to cool down
+a little, he began to feel the awkwardness of his position.  He was
+quite sure that his father would not increase his allowance, and an
+overdrawn account was not a thing so easy to transfer.  Besides which,
+he began to be aware that his present habits were getting talked about
+in the city.  But money he must have.  To whom could he apply?  There
+was but one person to whom he could bring himself to speak on the
+subject, and that was Hubert.  He had seen very little of him, however,
+of late, for the company and pursuits he had taken to were not such as
+would find any countenance from young Oliphant.  Something, however,
+must be done.  So he called at the office in King William Street, and
+had a private interview with his friend.
+
+"Money," said Hubert, when he had heard of Frank's necessities, "is not
+a thing I have much at command at present."
+
+"But you can procure me the loan of a hundred pounds, I daresay?" asked
+the other; "my next half-yearly payment will be made in two months, and
+then I shall be able to repay the money, with the interest."
+
+"You want a hundred pounds now, as I understand," said his friend, "and
+you have already overdrawn your account fifty pounds; when your money is
+paid in it will just cover this hundred and fifty pounds, without any
+interest.  How do you mean to manage for the interest and your next
+half-year's expenses?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," replied Frank testily; "what's the use of bothering
+a fellow with calculations like that?  Of course the tradespeople must
+trust me, and it'll be all right by the time another half-year's payment
+comes in."
+
+"Well, if you've paid your tradesmen up to now," rejoined Hubert, "of
+course they may be willing to wait.  Still, excuse my saying, dear
+Frank, that it's not a very healthy thing this forestalling, and I don't
+see how you're to pay the interest when you get your next payment."
+
+"What a fuss about the interest!" cried the other.  "The fellow that
+lends it must clap on so much more for waiting a little longer, that's
+all.  And as for the tradesmen, they must be content to be paid by
+degrees.  They'll take precious good care not to be losers in the end,
+I'll warrant them."
+
+"Dear Frank," said Hubert kindly, but very gravely, and laying his hand
+affectionately on the other's shoulder, "you must bear with me if I
+speak a little plainly to you--you must bear with me, indeed you must.
+You know that you came out here hoping to redeem the past, and to return
+home again a new character.  You know what lies at the end of such a
+hope fulfilled.  Are you really trying to live the life you purposed to
+live?  There are very ugly rumours abroad.  You seem to have nearly
+forsaken old friends; and the new ones, if report says true, are such as
+will only lead you to ruin.  Oh, dear Frank, if you would only see
+things in the right light--if you would only see your own weakness, and
+seek strength in prayer in your Saviour's name--oh, surely you would
+break off at once from your present ways and companions, and there might
+be hope--oh yes, hope even yet."
+
+Frank did not speak for some time.  At last he said, in a stern, husky
+voice,--
+
+"Can you--or can you not--borrow the money for me?"
+
+"If I could feel convinced," was the reply, "that you would at once
+break off from your present associates, and that you would seriously set
+about retrenching, I would undertake to procure for you the hundred
+pounds you require--nay, I would make myself responsible for it."
+
+Frank sat down, and buried his face in his hands.
+
+"Oh, help me, Hubert," he cried, "and I will promise all you wish.  I
+will pay off old debts as far as possible, and will incur no new ones.
+I will keep myself out of harm's way; and will take to old friends, if
+they will receive me again.  Can I say more?"
+
+"Will you not become a genuine pledged abstainer?  And will you not pray
+for grace to keep your good resolution?"
+
+"Well, as far as the total abstinence is concerned, I will think about
+it."
+
+"And will you not pray for strength?"
+
+"Oh, of course--of course."
+
+And Frank went off with a light heart, the present pressure being
+removed.  Hubert procured the money for him.  And now for a time there
+was a decided outward improvement.  Frank was startled to find how
+rapidly he was being brought, by his expensive habits, to the brink of
+ruin.  He tore himself, therefore, from his gay associates, and was
+often a visitor at "The Rocks."  But he did not give up the drink.  He
+contrived, by dexterous management, to keep up the stock in his bed-
+room, without the knowledge of either Jacob or Mrs Watson.  But one day
+he sent Jacob for a powder-flask which he had left on his dressing-
+table, having forgotten, through inadvertence, to lock his cupboard door
+or remove a spirit-bottle from his table.  Jacob remained staring at the
+bottle, and then at the open hamper in the closet, as if fascinated by
+the gaze of some deadly serpent.  He stood there utterly forgetting what
+he was sent for, till he heard Frank's voice impatiently calling him.
+Then he rushed out empty-handed and bewildered till he reached his
+master's presence.
+
+"Well, Jacob, where's the powder-flask?  Why, man, what's scared your
+wits out of you?  You haven't seen a boggart, as you tell me they call a
+ghost in Lancashire?"
+
+"I've seen what's worse nor ten thousand boggarts, Mayster Frank," said
+Jacob, sorrowfully.
+
+"And pray what may that be?" asked his master.
+
+"Why, mayster, I've seen what's filled scores of homes and hearts with
+boggarts.  I've seen the bottles as holds the drink--the strong drink as
+ruins millions upon millions."
+
+Frank started as if pierced by a sudden sting.  His colour went and
+came.  He walked hastily a step or two towards the house, and then
+turned back.
+
+"And pray, my friend Jacob," he said, with a forced assumption of
+gaiety, "why should my little bottle of spirits be worse for you than
+ten thousand boggarts?"
+
+"Oh, Mayster Frank, Mayster Frank," was the reply, "just excuse me, and
+hearken to me one minute.  I thought when I left my home, where the
+drink had drowned out all as was good, as I should never love any one
+any more.  I thought as I'd try and get through the world without heart
+at all--but it wasn't to be.  The captain found a soft place in my
+heart, and I loved him.  But that were nothing at all to the love I've
+had to yourself, Mayster Frank.  I loved you afore you saved my life,
+and I've loved you better nor my own life ever since you saved it.  And
+oh, I can't abide to see you throw away health and strength, and your
+good name and all, for the sake of that wretched drink as'll bring you
+to misery and beggary and shame.  Oh, don't--dear mayster, don't--don't
+keep the horrid poison in your house.  It's poison to you, as I've seen
+it poison to scores and scores, eating out manhood, withering out
+womanhood, crushing down childhood, shrivelling up babyhood.  I'll live
+for you, Mayster Frank, work for you, slave for you, wage or no wage--
+ay, I'll die for you, if need be--only do, do give up this cursed,
+ruinous, body and soul-destroying drink."
+
+"Jacob, I will--I will!" cried his master, deeply touched.  "Every word
+you say is true.  I'm a miserable, worthless wretch.  I don't deserve
+the love and devotion of a noble lad like you."
+
+"Nay, mayster--don't say so," cried Jacob; "but oh, if you'd only sign
+the pledge, and be an out-and-out gradely teetottaller, it'd be the
+happiest day of my life."
+
+"Well, Jacob, I'll see about the signing.  I daresay I shall have to do
+it.  But you may depend upon me.  I'll turn over a new leaf.  There--if
+it'll be any pleasure to you--you may take all that's left in my
+cupboard, and smash away at the bottles, as good Mr Oliphant did."
+
+Jacob needed no second permission.  Ale, wine, and spirit-bottles were
+brought out--though but few were left that had not been emptied.
+However, empty or full, they fell in a few moments before the energetic
+blows of the delighted Jacob Poole.
+
+"You'll never repent it," he said to his master.
+
+But, alas! he did not know poor Frank, who did repent it--and bitterly,
+too.  The sudden generosity which dictated the sacrifice was but a
+momentary flash.  Frank would have given a great deal could he have
+recalled the act.  But what was to be done?  He could not, for very
+shame, lay in a fresh stock at present; and, equally, he could not
+resolve to cross his miserable appetite.  So he devised a plan by which
+he could still indulge in the drink, and yet keep Jacob Poole completely
+in the dark; for, alas! it was becoming less and less painful to him to
+breathe in an atmosphere of deception.  There was a small cottage not
+far from Frank's dwelling.  It had belonged to a labouring man, who had
+bought a small piece of ground with his hard earnings, had fenced it
+round, and built the cottage on it.  This man, when "the diggins" broke
+out in Melbourne, sold his little property for a third of its value to a
+worthless fellow, whose one great passion was a love for the drink.
+Through this man Frank was able to obtain a constant supply of the
+pernicious stimulant.  He would call at the house in the evening, and
+bring home in his pockets a flask or two of spirits, which he could
+easily keep out of the sight of Jacob and his housekeeper.  But though
+he could conceal the drink, he could not conceal its effects.  Again and
+again he became intoxicated--at first slightly so, and then more and
+more grossly and openly--till poor Jacob, wearied out and heart-sick,
+retired from Frank's service, and obtained work from Mr Abraham
+Oliphant in his store at Adelaide.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+AN UNHAPPY SURPRISE.
+
+The half-year's remittance came in due time, but Frank was quite unable
+to pay the L100 loan.  Ruin was now staring him in the face.  Tradesmen
+were clamorous, rent and wages were unpaid, and he was getting into a
+state of despair, when, to his great and unspeakable joy, a letter
+arrived one morning announcing that a legacy of L500, left him by an old
+lady--his godmother--would be paid into his account at the Adelaide
+Bank.  Here was, indeed, a reprieve.  In a transport of gratitude he
+threw himself on his knees, and gave thanks to God for this unlooked-for
+help.  Then he lost not a moment, but rode at once into Adelaide, and
+went first to the bank, where he ascertained that the money had been
+paid in.  Then he called on his creditors and discharged their bills.
+And last of all he went to Hubert Oliphant and repaid the loan of the
+L100, with the interest.
+
+"Oh, Hubert," he said, "I can't tell you how thankful and grateful I
+feel for this relief.  I was getting into hopeless difficulties.  I was
+at my wits' end what to do.  I felt like a miserable slave, just as if I
+was walking in irons; and now I could do nothing but shout all the way
+home, I feel so light and free!"
+
+"I don't doubt it," said his friend.  "But you were talking just now
+about being thankful.  Won't you let it be more than mere words?  Won't
+you show, dear Frank, that you really are grateful to God?"
+
+"I have," replied the other.  "I thanked God on my knees for his
+goodness as soon as I got the letter."
+
+"I'm truly rejoiced to hear it.  And now, what do you mean to _do_?"
+
+"To _do_?  Why, what should I do?"
+
+"Does not your own conscience tell you, Frank?"
+
+"Ah, I suppose you mean, give up the drink altogether.  Well, I intend
+to do it--and at once too."
+
+"And will you ask for strength where you know it can be found?"
+
+"Yes," said Frank, grasping the other's hand warmly; "I promise you I
+will."
+
+"And what about the pledge?" pursued Hubert, with a loving, entreating
+smile.
+
+"Ah, that pledge!  You can never let me rest about the pledge.  I see
+you're afraid to trust me."
+
+"Dear Frank, is there not a cause?  Can you trust yourself?"
+
+"Yes I think I can this time--especially if I pray for help."
+
+Hubert sighed.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I was nearly forgetting that I have a little
+note for you from Mary, which came to-day in a letter to myself.  Here
+it is."
+
+The note was brief and constrained in its tone, though kind.  It was as
+follows:--
+
+  "DEAR FRANK,--I wrote to you by the last mail, and just send a few
+  lines now in Hubert's letter.  I can scarce tell how to write.  I do
+  not know whether to hope or fear, whether I dare venture to believe
+  that I shall ever see you again with joy.  O Frank, I have dreadful
+  misgivings.  Miserable rumours come across the sea to make all our
+  hearts sick.  Will you not at once and for ever renounce what has been
+  the occasion of sin and disgrace to yourself and of misery to us both?
+  Will you not go to the Strong for strength, and cast yourself at once
+  on him?  I cannot write more now, for I am almost broken-hearted.  I
+  shall not cease to pray for you.--Yours, MARY OLIPHANT."
+
+Frank hastily thrust the note into his pocket after reading it, and
+hurried home.  There he shut-to his door, and flung himself on his
+knees.  He prayed to be forgiven his sin, and that he might live a
+steady and sober life for the time to come.  He rose up comforted and
+satisfied.  He felt he had done a duty.  He was resolved to become a
+water-drinker, to pay no more visits to the man at the cottage, and to
+keep no intoxicating drinks in his house.  Mary's letter had touched him
+to the quick; he saw how nearly he had lost her; he felt that the stand
+must be made now or never.  But yet he had in no way pledged himself to
+total abstinence.  True, he had prayed to be kept sober; but had his
+heart fully and sincerely desired what his lips had prayed for?  Alas,
+it is to be feared not; for it is no difficult thing to delude ourselves
+in the matter of prayer.  It is easy, when we have sinned, and before
+the next strong temptation to the same sin presents itself, to pray
+against repeating it, and so to give a sop to our conscience, without
+having either the heart's desire or the honest resolve to abstain from
+that sin.  And it is equally easy to pray that we may not fall into a
+sin, and to have a sort of half sincere desire to that effect; and yet,
+at the same time, to be quite unwilling to avoid those steps which,
+though they are not themselves the sin, yet almost of necessity and
+inevitably lead to it.  So it was with poor Frank, but he did not think
+so; on the contrary, he was now quite persuaded that his resolution was
+like a rock, that he was thoroughly fortified against yielding to his
+old temptations, and that he should never again deviate from the
+strictest sobriety.  Yet he would not sign the pledge, and so put a
+check between himself and those circumstances and occasions which might
+lead or surprise him into a transgression.  He meant to be a total
+abstainer at _present_, but he was quite as resolved not to sign the
+pledge.
+
+Things were in this state.  He had rigidly kept himself to non-
+intoxicants for more than a month after the receipt of Mary's note.  He
+had paid his way and observed a strict economy; he was getting back his
+character as a steady and sober man; and many looked on with approbation
+and applauded him.  There were, however, three at least in the colony
+who had but little faith in him as yet; these were Hubert, Mr Oliphant,
+and Jacob Poole.
+
+Things were in this state when one morning, as Frank was riding slowly
+down Hindley Street, he noticed a man, whose face and whole appearance
+seemed very familiar to him, talking to a shopman at his door.  Just as
+he came opposite, the man turned fully towards him--there could be no
+longer any doubt.
+
+"What!  Juniper; Juniper Graves--you here!"
+
+"What!  Mr Frank, my dear young master!  Do I really see you once more?
+Ah, how I've longed for this suspicious day; but it's come at last."
+
+"Ah, I see it's just yourself," said Frank, laughing.  "Give us your
+hand, my good fellow.  But what has brought you out here?  It looks like
+old times in the dear old country seeing you again."
+
+"Why, Mr Frank, the truth's the truth, and it's no use hiding it,
+though `self-praise is no accommodation,' as the proverb says.  You see,
+sir, I couldn't be happy when you was gone.  I missed my dear young
+master so much.  People wondered what was amiss with me, when they found
+me, as they often did, in a state of refraction.  `Why, Juniper,' they'd
+say, `what's amiss?  Are you grieving after Mr Frank?'  I could only
+nod dissent; my heart was too full.  But I mustn't be too long, a-
+keeping you too, sir, under the vertebral rays of an Australian sun.  I
+just couldn't stand it no longer--so I gets together my little savings,
+pays my own passage, sails across the trackless deep to the southern
+atmosphere--and here I am, to take my chance for good fortune or bad
+fortune, if I may only now and then have a smile from my dear young
+master Mr Frank, and gaze once more on those familiar ligaments which I
+loved so much in dear old England.  Mr Frank, it's the simple truth, I
+assure you.  With all my failings and interjections, you'd never any
+cause to doubt my voracity."
+
+"You're a warm-hearted, good fellow, I know," said Frank, wiping his
+eyes, "or you never could have made such a sacrifice on my account.  But
+what do you mean to do with yourself?  Have you got into any situation
+or employment?"
+
+"Oh no, sir.  I felt sure--that is to say, I hoped that I should find
+you out, for you'd be sure to be well-known in the colony, and that I
+might have the irresponsible happiness of serving you again, either as
+groom, or in some other capacity."
+
+It so happened that Frank was parting with his man, so Juniper at once
+stepped into the place.  Had his master known how matters really were,
+he would not have been so ready to take his old tempter into his house.
+The fact was, that Juniper Graves had gone to such lengths of
+misbehaviour after Frank's departure for Australia, that Sir Thomas had
+been compelled to dismiss him; feeling, however, sorry for the man, as
+the favourite servant of his absent son, the squire had not noised
+abroad his misdemeanours; so that when Juniper quitted Greymoor Park, he
+did so apparently of his own choice.  He had contrived, while in the
+baronet's service, to appropriate to himself many small valuables of a
+portable character.  These he managed safely to dispose of, and with the
+money purchased an outfit and paid his passage to South Australia.  His
+shallow brains had been fired with the idea of making his fortune at the
+diggings.  He felt sure that, if he could find Frank Oldfield, he should
+soon ingratiate himself with him, and that he might then take advantage
+of his good-nature and of his intemperance to gather to himself
+sufficient funds to enable him to start as gold-digger.  A wretched
+compound of vanity, selfishness, and shrewdness, where his own interests
+were concerned, he had no other view as regarded his young master than
+to use him as a ladder by which he might himself mount to fortune.  A
+week later, and Juniper Graves was established as general man-servant at
+Frank Oldfield's cottage in the hills.
+
+"And pray, Mrs Watson," he asked, on the evening of his arrival,
+"whereabouts is one to find the cellar in these outlandish premises?"
+
+"Why, much in the same place as you'd look for it in England," was the
+answer; "only here you'll find nothing but cellar walls, for our
+master's turned teetotaller."
+
+Juniper replied to this by opening his eyes very wide, and giving
+utterance to a prolonged whistle.
+
+"Teetottaller!" at last he exclaimed; "and pray how long has he taken to
+this new fashion?"
+
+"Not many weeks," was the reply.
+
+"And how many weeks do you think he'll stick to it?"
+
+"A great many, I hope," replied the housekeeper; "for I'm sure there's
+neither pleasure nor profit where the drink gets the master.  It's
+driven poor Jacob away."
+
+"And who may poor Jacob be?"
+
+"Why, as nice, and steady, and hearty a lad as ever I set eyes on, Mr
+Graves.  He was master's first groom and gardener.  He came out in the
+same ship with master and Mr Hubert Oliphant.  Mr Frank saved Jacob
+from being drowned, and the young man stayed with him here, and worked
+for him with all his heart till the drink drove him away, for he was a
+teetotaller, as he used to say of himself, to the back-bone."
+
+"Well, Mrs Watson," said Graves, "it isn't for me to be contradicting
+you, but, for my part, I never could abide these teetottallers.  What
+with their tea and their coffee, their lemonade and ginger beer, and
+other wishy-washy, sour stuffs--why, the very thought of them's enough
+to cause an involution of one's suggestive organs."
+
+But what was he to do?  Drink there was none in the house, and he was
+too crafty to make any direct request for its introduction; but, "as
+sure as my name's Juniper," he said to himself, "Mr Frank shall break
+off this nonsense afore I'm a month older; it won't suit him, I know,
+and I'm certain sure it won't suit me."
+
+So he submitted to the unfermented beverages of the establishment with
+as good a grace as he could, turning over in his mind how he should
+accomplish his object.  He had not to wait long.  The drunken cottager
+who had formerly supplied Frank with spirits, was of course not best
+pleased to lose so good a customer, for he had taken care to make a very
+handsome profit on the liquors which he had supplied.  It so happened
+that this man lighted on Juniper one day near his master's house, and a
+very few minutes' conversation made the groom acquainted with the former
+connection between this cottager and Frank Oldfield.
+
+"Ho, ho!" laughed Juniper to himself.  "I have it now.  Good-bye to
+teetottalism.  We'll soon put an end to him."
+
+So bidding his new acquaintance keep himself out of sight and hold his
+tongue, for he'd soon manage to get back his master's custom to him,
+Juniper purchased a few bottles of spirits on his own account, and
+stowed them safely away in his sleeping-place.  A few days after this
+transaction, Frank bid his groom prepare himself for a ride of some
+length.  It was a blazing hot day, and when they had gone some fifteen
+miles or more, principally in the open, across trackless plains, they
+struck up suddenly into a wooded pass, and Frank, giving the bridle to
+Juniper, threw himself on to the ground, under some trees, and lay
+panting with the excessive heat.
+
+"Stiff work this, Juniper," he said.  "Just hang the bridles somewhere,
+and come and get a little shade.  It's like being roasted alive."
+
+"Ay, sir," replied the other, "it's hot work, and thirsty work too; only
+you see, sir, total abstainers ain't at liberty to quench their thirst
+like ordinary mortals."
+
+"Why not?" asked his master, laughing.  "I hear the sound of water not
+far-off; and I don't doubt there's enough to quench the thirst of all
+the teetotallers in the colony."
+
+"Phew!" replied Juniper, "it'd be madness to drink cold water in the
+heat we're in.  Why, I'm in such a state of respiration myself, sir,
+that it'd be little better than courting self-destruction if I were to
+drink such chilly quotations."
+
+"Perhaps so," replied Frank; "certainly it isn't always safe, I believe,
+to drink cold water when you're very hot; but we must be content with
+what we can get, and wait till we're a little cooler."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said the other, in the blandest of voices;
+"but I've had the sagacity to bring with me a little flask of something
+as'll air the cold water famously.  Here it is, sir; you can use the
+cover as a cup."  He was soon at the stream and back again.  "Now, sir,
+shall I just mix you a little? it's really very innocent--as immaculate
+as a lamb.  You must take it as a medicine, sir; you'll find it an
+excellent stomach-ache, as the doctors say."
+
+"I'm more afraid of it's giving me the heart-ache, Juniper," replied his
+master; "but a very little in the water will certainly perhaps be wise.
+There, thank you; hold--hold--you're helping me, I suppose, as you love
+me."  The cup, however, was drained, and then a second was taken before
+they started again; and twice more before they reached home they halted,
+and Juniper's flask was produced and emptied before they finally
+remounted.
+
+"I have him," chuckled Graves to himself.  "I've hooked my trout; and he
+only wants a little playing, and I'll have him fairly landed."
+
+Alas! it was too true.  Frank was in skilful hands; for Juniper had a
+double object: he wanted to indulge his own appetite for the drink at
+his master's expense; and he also wanted to get into his clutches such a
+sum of money as would enable him to make a fair start at the diggings on
+the Melbourne side of the Australian continent.  His friend of the
+cottage, through whom he obtained his supply of spirits, was well
+acquainted with many of the returned diggers, and gave him full
+information on all subjects about which he inquired connected with the
+gold-digging.  His object in the first place was to get as much of his
+master's money into his own possession as he could do without direct
+robbery; his next object was to keep his master out of every one else's
+clutches but his own.  So he laid himself out in every way to keep Frank
+amused and occupied, and to leave him as little time as possible for
+reflection.  The spirit-bottle was never allowed to be empty or out of
+the way; Juniper could produce it at a moment's notice.  He took care to
+do so with special dexterity whenever he could engage his master in a
+game of cards.  Juniper was an accomplished gambler; he had often played
+with his young master when they were out alone on fishing or shooting
+expeditions at Greymoor Park.  Frank used then to lose money to him in
+play occasionally, but Juniper was always wily enough not to push his
+advantage too far--he never would allow himself to win more than small
+sums.  But now he had a different purpose on hand; and so, from time to
+time, he would draw on his master to play for hours together, keeping
+the drink going all the while, and managing himself to preserve a
+sufficient sobriety to prevent his losing his self-possession and
+defeating his end in view.  Thus, by degrees, Frank found his money
+melting fast and faster away.  If he complained of this to Juniper, that
+worthy either assured him he was mistaken, or that the money had only
+gone to defray the necessary expenses of the establishment; or else he
+laughed, and said, "Well, sir, you didn't play as well as usual last
+night.  I suppose your luck was bad, or your head wasn't very clear.
+You lost more than usual, but you'll win it all back; and, after all, I
+should never think of keeping it if you're really in want of it at any
+time."
+
+"Juniper, you're a good fellow," said his poor miserable dupe; "you mean
+well--I know you do.  I'm sure you wouldn't deceive or rob me."
+
+"Me deceive! me rob, Mr Frank!  No indeed, sir; I hope I've too much
+duplicity to do anything of the kind.  Why, didn't I come out here just
+because I'd such a hampering after you, Mr Frank?  No; I trust, indeed,
+that you'll never ascertain such hard thoughts of me for a moment."
+
+"Never fear," was his master's reply; "I believe you love me too well,
+Juniper, to wrong me."
+
+But there was one who did not think so.  Hubert Oliphant had discovered,
+with dismay, that Frank's new servant was none other than the reprobate
+groom of Greymoor Park.  He had called as soon as he heard of it, and
+implored his friend to dismiss Graves from his service.  But Frank would
+not hear of such a thing.  He dwelt on his old servant's affection,
+self-sacrifice, and devotion to himself; he palliated his faults, and
+magnified his virtues; so that poor Hubert had to retire baffled and
+heart-sick.  There remained but one other effort to be made, and that
+was through Jacob Poole, who was informed by Hubert of Juniper's
+character.  Jacob did not decline the duty, though the service was both
+a difficult and delicate one; for there was a decision and simple
+earnestness about his character which made him go forward, without
+shrinking, to undertake whatever he was persuaded he was rightly called
+upon to do.
+
+It was on a lovely summer's evening that Jacob made his way, with a
+heavy heart, to his former master's cottage.  How he had once loved that
+place! and how he loved it still!--only there had fallen a blight on all
+that was beautiful, and that was the blight of sin.  As he approached
+the house, he heard singing from more than one voice.  He drew near the
+verandah; and there, by a little round table--on which was a bottle and
+tumblers, and a box of cigars--sat, or rather lolled, Frank and his man,
+smoking, drinking, and playing cards.
+
+"And so it's you, Jacob, my boy!" cried Frank; "it's quite an age since
+I've seen you; the boggarts haven't kept you away, I hope?"
+
+"No, mayster, it's not the boggarts; it's my own heart as has kept me
+away."
+
+"What, Jacob! you've fallen in love with some fair maiden--is that it?"
+
+"No, Mr Frank; I haven't fallen in love with any young wench, and
+there's some of the other sex as I'm still less like to fall in love
+with."
+
+"Oh, you mean my friend Juniper here!  Well, I'm sorry any one should
+fall foul of poor Juniper; he's an old servant of mine, Jacob, and he's
+come all the way over from England on purpose to serve me again."
+
+"I'm thinking," said Jacob, who had too much Lancashire downrightness
+and straightforwardness to use any diplomacy, or go beating about the
+bush, "as it's very poor service ye'll get from him, Mr Frank, if I may
+be allowed to speak out my mind.  He's drawn you into the mire again
+already, that's plain enough.  Oh, dear mayster, I cannot hold my
+tongue--I must and I _will_ speak plain to you.  If you let this man
+serve you as he's doing now, he'll just make a tool on you for his own
+purposes, till he's squeezed every drop of goodness out of you, and left
+you like a dry stick as is fit for nothing but the burning."
+
+It is impossible to describe adequately the changes which passed over
+the countenance of Juniper Graves while this brief conversation was
+being carried on.  Rage, malice, fear, hatred--all were mingled in his
+mean and cunning features.  But he controlled himself; and at last spoke
+with an assumed smoothness, which, however, could not quite hide the
+passion that made his voice tremulous.
+
+"Really, sir, I don't know who this young man is--some escaped convict,
+I should think; or American savage, I should imagine, by his talk.  I
+really hope, sir, you're not going to listen to this wild sort of
+garbage.  If it wasn't demeaning myself, and making too much of the
+impertinent young scoundrel, I'd bring an action against him for
+reformation of character."
+
+"There, there, Juniper," said Frank, motioning him to be quiet; "don't
+distress yourself.  Jacob's prejudiced; he don't really know you, or
+he'd speak differently.  You must be friends; for I know you both love
+me, and would do anything to serve me.  Come, Jacob, give Juniper your
+hand; take my word for it, he's an honest fellow."
+
+But Jacob drew back.
+
+"I know nothing about his honesty," he said; "but I _do_ know one thing,
+for Mr Hubert's told me--he's led you into sin at home, Mayster Frank,
+and he'll lead you into sin again here; and he's just cutting you off
+from your best friends and your brightest hopes; and I've just come over
+once more to beg and beseech you, by all as you holds dear, to have
+nothing no more to do with yon drunken profligate.  I'd rayther have
+said this to yourself alone, but you've forced me to say it now, and
+it's better said so nor left unsaid altogether.  And now I'll bid you
+good evening, for it's plain I can do little good if I tarry longer."
+He turned and left them: as he did so, Frank's last look was one of
+mingled anger, shame, remorse, despair; Juniper's was one of bitter,
+deadly, fiery hatred.
+
+But other thoughts soon occupied the mind of the tempter.  It was plain
+to him that, if he was to keep a firm hold on his young master, he must
+get him, as speedily as possible, out of the reach of his old friends.
+How was he to accomplish this?  At last a scheme suggested itself.
+
+"What say you, Mr Frank," he asked suddenly one morning, when his
+master was evidently rather gloomily disposed--"what say you to a tramp
+to the diggings? wouldn't it be famous?  We could take it easy; there's
+first-rate fishing in the Murray, I hear.  We could take our horses, our
+fishing-tackle, our guns, our pannikins, and our tether-ropes; we must
+have plenty of powder and shot, and then we shall be nice and
+independent.  If you'd draw out, sir, what you please from the bank,
+I'll bring what I've got with me.  I've no doubt I shall make a first-
+rate digger, and we'll come back again with our fortunes made."
+
+"It's rather a random sort of scheme," said his master; "but I'm sick of
+this place and of my present life.  Anything for a bit of a change--so
+let's try the diggings."
+
+A few days after Jacob's visit to the cottage, it was rumoured that
+Frank Oldfield and his man had left the colony.  Hubert called at the
+place and found that they were indeed gone, and that it was quite
+uncertain when they purposed to return.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
+
+THE LONE BUSH.
+
+It was about a fortnight after Hubert's call at the cottage that a
+bullock-driver, dusty and bronzed, came into the office at King William
+Street, and asked to speak to Mr Oliphant's nephew.
+
+"I suppose, sir, you're Mr Hubert Oliphant," said the man.
+
+"I am."
+
+"Well, I've just come in from the bush.  It's four days now since I left
+Tanindie--it's a sheep-station down on the Murray.  Thomas Rowlands, as
+shepherds there, asked me to come and tell you that there's a young gent
+called Scholfield, or Oldfield, or some such name, as is dangerously ill
+in a little log-hut near the river.  The chap as came down with him has
+just cut and run, and left him to shift for himself; and he's likely to
+have a bad time of it, as he seems to have some sort of fever, and
+there's no doctor nearer than forty miles."
+
+Hubert was greatly shocked.
+
+"And how came the shepherd to think about sending to _us_?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, the poor young man's been raving and talking about you scores of
+times; and Mr Abraham's name's well-known all over the colony."
+
+Hubert went to his uncle with the information.
+
+"What can we do?" he asked; "I'll gladly go to him, if you can spare me
+for a few days."
+
+Jacob Poole, who was in the office, and had heard the conversation, now
+interposed,--
+
+"Oh, Mayster Oliphant, let me go to him.  I'm more used to roughing it
+nor you.  I'll see to poor Mayster Frank.  I can't forget what he's done
+for me; and maybe, if God spares him, and that rascal Juniper Graves
+keeps out of the road, he'll do well yet."
+
+This plan commended itself to Mr Oliphant and his nephew, and it was
+resolved that Jacob should go at once.  His master furnished him with
+what he needed, and bade him send word to him if he should find himself
+in any trouble or difficulty.
+
+"You'll find him out easy enough," said the bullock-driver to Mr
+Oliphant, "for there's a party of mounted police setting off this
+afternoon for the Murray, and the crossing's only about two miles lower
+down than the hut.  If he as goes joins the police, he'll be there in
+half the time it took me to come up."
+
+So it was arranged that Jacob should start immediately.
+
+"And never mind," said Mr Oliphant, "about the time of your coming
+back.  If you can be of any service to your poor young master by staying
+on with him, do so.  And keep with him altogether if he wishes to take
+you again into his service.  It may keep him from the drink, now that
+vagabond's taken himself off, though I'll be bound he hasn't gone empty-
+handed.  Should you wish, however, Jacob, to come back again to me,
+either now or at any future time, I'll find you a place, for I can
+always make an opening for a stanch total abstainer."
+
+Jacob's preparations were soon made.  He furnished himself with all
+necessaries, and then joined the party of police on a stout little bush
+horse, and started that afternoon on his journey.  It was drawing
+towards the evening of the second day after their departure from
+Adelaide, when they came in sight of the river Murray, where a long
+shelving bank of reeds, like a small forest, intervened between
+themselves and the river.  The country all round them was wild and
+wooded, with little to remind of civilised man except the tracks of
+bullock-drays.
+
+"And here we part," said the leader of the police.  "I've no doubt
+you'll soon reach the hut you're seeking if you keep along the bank of
+the river; but be sure you don't lose sight of that."
+
+"Perhaps," said one of the men, "there may be some one not far-off who
+could show him his way, so that he'd lose no time.  Shall I cooey?"
+
+"Ay, do," said the captain.  So the man uttered a prolonged "Coo-oo-oo-
+ee!" and all paused.  A faint answering "Cooey" was heard in the
+distance.  Then a second "Cooey" was answered by a nearer response, and
+soon after a stout-looking bushman made his appearance.
+
+"Can you take this young man to a hut about two miles up the river,
+where there's a young Englishman lying sick?" asked the captain.
+
+"Ay, surely I can," was the reply.  "I've only left it an hour since."
+
+So Jacob took a hearty farewell of his escort, and in another minute was
+following his new guide.
+
+"A relation of the young gent's, I guess?" asked the bushman.
+
+"No, only an old servant.  He saved my life, and I want to help save
+his, please God."
+
+"You'll not do much towards saving it if you give him the same sort of
+medicine the last chap did," remarked the other drily.
+
+"The drink, you mean," said Jacob.  "No; I'm not likely to do anything
+of the sort, for I'm an out-and-out total abstainer."
+
+"I'm right glad to hear it; give me your hand, friend," cried the
+bushman, treating him, at the same time, to a grip which made his
+fingers tingle.  "I wish we'd more of your sort among us.  It'd be
+better for 'em, body and soul."
+
+"Then, of course, you're an abstainer yourself."
+
+"To be sure I am.  I've four brothers, and not one of us has ever tasted
+any intoxicating drink."
+
+"And do you live hereabouts?" inquired Jacob.
+
+"Yes; my father's head-shepherd at Tanindie.  We all live together, my
+mother and all."
+
+"And you find you can do your work without the drink?"
+
+"Look there," said the other, stopping short, and baring his arm.  "Feel
+that; some muscle there, I reckon.  That muscle's grown on unfermented
+liquors.  Me and my four brothers are all just alike.  We never trouble
+the doctor, any of us."
+
+"Ah!" said Jacob; "I've heard strange talk about `can't do without
+wine;' `can't do without beer;' `can't do without spirits;' `heat of the
+climate makes it needful to make up for wear and tear of body,' and so
+on.  And then, I've seen a many shake their heads and say as young
+people can't do without a little now and then `to brace up their
+nerves,' as they call it, `and give a tone to the constitootion.'  I've
+heard a deal of this talk in the old country."
+
+"`Plenty gammon, plenty gammon,' all that, as the black fellows say,"
+replied the other.  "Truth is, people makes artificial wants, and then
+they must have artificial stimulants.  We're no great scholars in our
+house, but we gets a good many books even out here in the bush, and
+reads them at odd times; and we've read a great deal of nonsense about
+young people wanting beer and wine, and such things.  If people gets
+themselves into an unnatural state, they wants unnatural food.  But
+where's the real need?  I don't believe the world would suffer a pin if
+all the intoxicating drinks were thrown into the sea to-morrow.  Indeed,
+I'm sure it would be a thousandfold better."
+
+"I'm sure of the same," said Jacob.  "But I suppose it isn't all of your
+trade as thinks so."
+
+"No, indeed; more's the pity.  There's plenty about us that loves their
+drink a vast deal too well.  I can tell you strange tales about some of
+them.  I've known hardworking fellows, that have kept sober all the
+year, go up at the year's end, with all they have saved, to Adelaide,
+and put it into the publican's hand, telling him, `There, you keep that,
+and give me drink, as I calls for it, till I've drunk it all out.'"
+
+"And I'll warrant," said Jacob, "as publicans'll not be particular as to
+a gallon or two about giving them the full worth of their brass."
+
+"Not they, you may be very sure; and as soon as the publican has
+squeezed them dry, out they go, neck and crop."
+
+"And don't that larn 'em better?" asked Jacob.
+
+"Not a bit of it," replied his companion; "for there's no fool like a
+drunken fool.  They'll do anything for a spree.  They're like madmen
+when they go off with their wages.  You may find three or four shepherds
+clubbing together.  They'll call for champagne, and then for a pail.
+Then they'll knock the necks off the bottles, pour the champagne into
+the pail, and ladle it out with their pannikins as they sit round.  And
+if that don't satisfy them, they'll add a bottle of brandy, or rum, or
+some other spirit.  I think they're fairly crazy after the drink in this
+colony."
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised," said Jacob.  "It's much the same in most
+places in the old country."
+
+"Here we are," said the young bushman, shortly after, as they made their
+way through the tangled trees and shrubs, and came upon a large-sized
+log-hut.
+
+How strange it was, that solitary hut in that lone wilderness, and in
+view of the shining river!  All around was wild and primitive; and fair
+in its negligent beauty as though it had never been disturbed by the
+hand of man.  The hut was large and well-constructed, though now a
+little falling to decay.  It was built of logs laid horizontally in
+order one above another, and rendered tolerably wind-proof by the moss
+and clay which served to fill up the crevices.
+
+Into this primitive dwelling Jacob followed his guide.  He was surprised
+at the air of comfort presented by the interior.  Not that there was
+much to boast of in the way of furniture, but great pains and skill had
+evidently been used to give an air of snugness to the one long, desolate
+apartment of which the hut consisted.  On a low, roughly-made bedstead
+lay poor Frank Oldfield, judiciously shielded from draughts by hangings
+of carefully arranged drapery.  His various possessions lay around him,
+neatly piled up, or hung on the walls.  And what struck Jacob with both
+pleasure and surprise, was a text in large printed characters on the
+wall--opposite the foot of the bed.  The words of the text were: "The
+blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin."  Oh, what a marvellous
+power have the words of the blessed Bible to prove their own heavenly
+origin in circumstances like these!  In a moment it was clear to Jacob
+that his master was in good hands.  These words out of that volume which
+is the revelation of the God of love to poor guilty sinners, told him so
+with a force which no eloquence or assurance from human lips could
+strengthen.  Yet there were other, and very pleasing, proofs also, for
+at the bed's head sat a middle-aged, kindly-looking woman, who was
+acting the part of nurse to the poor emaciated figure that lay on that
+couch of sickness.
+
+"Who is it?" asked a feeble voice, as the newcomers entered the hut.
+
+"An old servant, mother, of the gentleman's," answered the young
+bushman.
+
+"What, Jacob Poole!" exclaimed Frank, raising himself up.
+
+"There, don't worry or excite yourself," said the kind woman.  "I'll
+prop you up a bit, but you mustn't talk too much.  It'll only make you
+bad again."
+
+Jacob came forward.
+
+"Mr Frank," he said, "I've come over, as soon as I heard as you was
+badly, to do whatever I can for you.  Mr Oliphant's let me come; and he
+and Mr Hubert's rare and vexed as you're so ill.  So I'm to see as you
+want for nothing, and to let them know how you're coming on.  And I'm
+bound to stay with you till you gets round again."
+
+The poor patient held out his hand to Jacob, while the tears streamed
+down his face.
+
+"You're all very good to me," he said; "too good, far better than I
+deserve.  But I hope God may spare me to reward you, if I can.  You see,
+Jacob, I'm brought very low.  That rascal Juniper robbed me of fifty
+pounds, and deserted me when I was getting ill.  He would have taken all
+my money, I've no doubt, if he'd only known where to find it.  If it had
+not been for my kind nurse here, and her husband, I should not have been
+alive now."
+
+Here he sank back, exhausted with the effort of speaking.  He was sadly
+altered.  His fine features were sunk and pinched, his cheeks blanched,
+and his lips cracked and swollen; while his beautiful hair, once his
+mother's pride, had fallen under the scissors of the shepherd's wife.
+He was about to speak again, when his nurse motioned Jacob to be seated,
+and said to her patient,--
+
+"Now, sir, you must just keep silent, and let me tell all about your
+troubles to this young man.  You see, it seems that Mr Oldfield and
+that man of his, who appears to be a regular scoundrel, came down and
+settled in this hut, to try a taste of `bush' life, fishing and
+shooting, and the like.  But, dear heart, it was all well enough for a
+day or two; but after a bit the young gentleman got weary of it.  So
+they took to passing a good deal of their time in drinking and playing
+cards, I'm afraid.  I hope, young man, you're not given to anything of
+the sort?"
+
+"Me!" exclaimed Jacob; "no, ma'am; that's not in my line, I can assure
+you.  It's the drink as parted my poor mayster and me afore.  I'm a
+gradely total abstainer, and mean to be all the days of my life, please
+God."
+
+"I'm heartily glad to hear it," said the good woman.  "You'll do the
+young gentleman no harm then, I hope, but good.  Well, as I was saying,
+when they'd been a long time at this drinking and card-playing, what
+with the heat, and what with the change in his way of living, the poor
+gentleman took ill; so what did that man of his do?  Why, he looked
+after him for a day or so, and then he made pretence that he'd take one
+of the horses, and go and look for a doctor, or for some one who could
+come and give a help.  But, bless you, he never cared about doctor, but
+went straight off with both the horses, and one of the guns, and all the
+powder and shot as was left, and whatever else he could carry; and it
+seems too, from what the gentleman says, that he's taken and robbed his
+master of fifty pounds."
+
+"And how did you happen to light on him, and find out he was sick?"
+asked Jacob.
+
+"Why, I was just going to tell you.  My master and Dick--Dick's our
+youngest boy, you know--was looking after a stray sheep, when they comes
+up to this hut, and hears a strange moaning noise.  They went in at
+once, and there was this young gentleman in a high fever, raving, and
+talking all sorts of wild things, and half dead for want of water.  So
+my master goes back at once to our cottage and fetches me, and here I've
+been, off and on, ever since.  It's a mercy my master found him when he
+did, or he must have died afore long."
+
+Frank Oldfield nodded his head in assent, and held out his hand, first
+to the shepherd's wife, and then to Jacob.  "And so you've come to stay
+a bit with your old master, Jacob.  Thank God for that."
+
+"Ay, that's right," said the good woman; "thank Him--you've cause to do
+so, I'm sure God seems nearer to us who live out in the bush, in one
+way.  I mean, our mercies and blessings seem to come straighter like
+from his own hand when we've so few of our fellow-Creatures about us."
+
+"Jacob," said his master earnestly, "I trust, if I'm spared, that I
+shall really turn over a new leaf, gradely, as you'd say.  The drink has
+been my curse, my ruin, and almost my death.  I'll give it up
+altogether, and sign the pledge, if God raises me up to health and
+strength again."
+
+"Ay, do, mayster," replied the other; "it'll be the best thing you ever
+did in all your life."
+
+The shepherd's wife was now able to delegate many of her kind offices to
+Jacob, who proved a most loving and tender nurse.  In a few days their
+patient was able to sit up without difficulty, and, after a while, to
+leave the hut for the shepherd's comfortable cottage, to which he was
+conveyed on a litter of boughs by the stout arms of the shepherd and his
+sons.  Here it was agreed that he should remain as a regular lodger, at
+a moderate remuneration for himself and Jacob, which his host and
+hostess were rather loath to accept, but the refusal of which they saw
+would give Frank Oldfield much pain.  Jacob was his master's devoted
+attendant, watching over him as a mother over her child.
+
+It was one fine afternoon, when Frank was better than usual, that he
+turned to Jacob in the midst of a walk, and said abruptly, "Jacob,
+should you like to go to the diggings?"
+
+"Why, Mayster Frank," was the reply, "I've often thought I should just
+like to try my hand at it, for I was trained as a lad to pit-work.  But
+I should never think of leaving you till you're all right again, nor
+then either, unless you'd wish it yourself."
+
+"What made me ask you," said his master, "was this.  My kind landlord's
+three eldest sons are going, as you know, to try their hands for three
+months or so at gold-digging.  Now, if you'd like to go with them, it
+would be a real pleasure to me.  You would go in capital company, as
+they are all stanch teetotallers, like yourself; and nothing would
+rejoice me more than to find you coming back with a bag full of
+nuggets."
+
+"But what'll _you_ do while I'm off, Mr Frank?"
+
+"Oh, that's easily answered.  My kind hostess, and her husband, and two
+youngest sons will be able to do all I want, as I'm getting well so
+fast; and I shall be glad of an excuse to stop here in this quiet place
+for a while, and not return to Adelaide.  I can say, and say with truth,
+that I am waiting till you and your party come back from the diggings."
+
+Jacob Poole had no objections to make; so in a few days the four young
+men had crossed the Murray, and were on their way to the gold-fields.
+
+It is not necessary to describe in detail the history of the party from
+Tanindie during their stay at the diggings, but one or two scenes must
+be introduced which will further our story.
+
+It was a calm Sabbath evening; the click of the pick, the rattle of the
+cradle, the splashing of the water-buckets--all were still.  Outwardly
+the day had been kept strictly as a day of rest by all.  Beneath a tall
+tree stood, in the dress of a minister of the gospel, a middle-aged but
+grey-headed man.  A rough stool served him for a seat, and a few
+upturned buckets, supporting some loose planks, were appropriated to the
+few women and children, while the men stood behind these in various
+attitudes, but all very attentive; for in such a congregation as this
+there were none but willing listeners.  Those who had no mind to the
+preaching simply pleased themselves, and stayed away.  After the singing
+of a hymn, given out two lines at a time, for the minister alone
+possessed a hymn-book, a fervent prayer was offered up by the good man,
+at the commencement of which almost all the little company sank gently
+on their knees.  A few stood, but all remained bareheaded till its
+conclusion.  Then he drew forth his pocket Bible, and read the first
+chapter of the First Epistle of Peter, and took from it as his text the
+third, fourth, and fifth verses: "Blessed be the God and Father of our
+Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten
+us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the
+dead, to an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth
+not away, reserved in heaven for you, who are kept by the power of God
+through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time."
+
+From these words he addressed his earnestly attentive congregation in
+the simplest language, but every word came from the heart, and made his
+hearers feel that he was not standing himself on one side, and bidding
+them go forward, but was beckoning to them to follow along the path on
+which he was already going before them.  He spoke of the uncertainty of
+life, and they knew that he spoke the truth; for many who had come there
+to search for gold had been cut off in the midst of their labours.  He
+spoke of the uncertainty of earthly gain and prosperity, and they knew
+that he spoke the truth; for many who had left home, and had sold all to
+come to these diggings, had returned beggars.  He spoke of the emptiness
+of the earthly compared with the fulness of the heavenly inheritance,
+and bid them set eternity against time, the riches of heaven against the
+gold of the earth, the house of glory against their shifting tents, the
+rest of a home with God against their present wanderings, and many a
+sigh and tear escaped from lips and eyes that seldom spoke or looked
+except for earthly things.  And then he told them of the blood of Christ
+that was shed for their souls, and must be infinitely more precious than
+corruptible silver or gold, and urged them never to rest satisfied till
+they could feel that they were truly the children of God and followers
+of Jesus; for what would it profit them if they gained the whole world
+and lost their own souls?  Lastly, he pleaded with them to lose no time,
+but to come at once just as they were, and not any of them to hang back
+through fear or doubt; for the love of Jesus Christ was deep enough to
+swallow up the sins of them all, and was, like himself, "the same
+yesterday, to-day, and for ever."  The simple service concluded with
+another hymn and prayer, and then all dispersed, silent and thoughtful.
+On Jacob Poole, who had been one of the congregation, the sermon of the
+good minister made a deep impression.  He had often heard the gospel
+preached before, but it had never hitherto come home to his heart as a
+personal concern, as it did now.  There was to him a reality about it
+such as he had never understood before.  His heart was yearning for
+something; he felt that the gospel was that something, that it could
+satisfy his heart's cravings.  All through the service, but for about
+half a minute, he had kept his eyes fixed on the preacher.  He withdrew
+them for that half minute to glance round at a man who brushed past him
+and walked on.  As he turned, the man averted his face.  He thought it
+was a face not altogether strange to him, and yet he could not recall
+where he had seen it.  But his eyes returned to the preacher, and other
+thoughts occupied his mind and heart.  During the rest of that week he
+was ill at ease.  Many thoughts came crowding in upon him as he worked
+vigorously in the hole assigned to him.  Hitherto he had believed men
+sinners in the gross, and himself as bad but not worse than the general
+average.  Now he began to know that he was really himself a sinner,
+whose transgressions of God's holy laws would bring upon him eternal
+death, unless he sought and found the only refuge.  But was the gospel
+message really for _him_?  Would Jesus, whom he had so long reverenced,
+yet never hitherto really loved, be still willing to receive him?  He
+waited impatiently for the return of the Sabbath.  It came at last, and
+Christ's ambassador was at his old place under the tree with words full
+of love and encouragement.  At the end of his sermon, before retiring,
+he said,--
+
+"If there is any one of you, my dear hearers, who is in any way troubled
+in conscience, or for any other reason would wish any conversation with
+me on religious subjects, I shall be only too happy to talk with him now
+in my tent."
+
+No one spoke, and the good man went his way.  But in a little while
+Jacob Poole followed him, and asked to be allowed to speak with him for
+a few minutes.  He entered the minister's tent with a distressed and
+anxious countenance; but when he came away from the interview in which
+he had unburdened his sorrows, and laid open all his difficulties, there
+was a bright and happy look on his features, which spoke of a mind
+stayed on God and a heart at peace.  Just as he was leaving the
+minister's tent, a swift, quiet step came behind him; he turned very
+quickly, and again his eyes fell on the same countenance which he had
+seen when a person brushed by him at the previous Sunday's service.
+Another moment, and the man had vanished in the dusk.  Again he was
+puzzled.  He could not at all remember where he had seen that face, and
+yet certainly he _had_ seen it before.  There was something forbidding
+and malicious in it, and a sort of dread crept over him.  And yet he
+could not tell why he should fear.  However, he resolved to be on his
+guard, for strange things had often happened at the diggings, and there
+were men prowling about the colony who would care nothing about shedding
+blood, if they could secure thereby the gains of a successful digger.
+He said nothing, however, to his companions; for it seemed an absurd
+thing to trouble them with his vague impressions and misgivings,
+especially as the man who had thus twice been near him had done nothing
+more than approach him and pass on.
+
+It was some ten days later, and violent winds with heavy rains had
+driven the most ardent diggers early to their tents.  Jacob was
+revolving in his mind what he had heard at the last Sunday's preaching,
+and thoughts of home, and duties left undone there, made him very sad.
+Then he thought of his young master at Tanindie, and wondered how he was
+progressing, and whether he would at length really take the one decided
+step and become a pledged abstainer.  Thus he mused on, till the
+twilight melted rapidly into darkness.  Then, having lifted up his heart
+to God in prayer, he threw himself down on his bed.  But he could not
+sleep, though weary enough with the exhausting labours of many days.
+Suddenly he half raised himself; he thought he heard a strange noise
+like some one breathing not far from his head.  Then the wind, which had
+lulled for a second or two, resumed its violence, and flapped the canvas
+of his tent backwards and forwards.  Again he lay down, but shortly
+afterwards thought he heard the breathing again--or was he only
+deceiving himself?  It was difficult to hear anything else distinctly
+for the noise made by the flapping of the tent and the creaking of its
+supports.  Still, he did not feel easy.  And now in the dusk it seemed
+to him that the lower part of the folds of the tent near his bed's head
+moved in a peculiar manner, such as the wind could not cause.  Without
+rising, he silently and cautiously rolled himself over from the bed till
+he could lay his hand on a large rug;--this he quietly folded up, and,
+creeping back, laid it in his own place on the bed itself.  Then,
+drawing himself round noiselessly, he lay at full-length on the ground,
+at right angles to the bed, with his face not far from the bolster.  Not
+a sound, except the flapping and creaking of the tent, was heard for
+some time, till Jacob, feigning to be asleep, began to breathe hard, and
+then to snore louder and louder.  Suddenly he was aware that the canvas
+was lifted slowly a few feet from where he was stretched along.  He
+continued, however, still to breathe hard, as one in a deep sleep.
+Another moment, and a man was stealthily raising himself to his knees
+inside the tent.  Then the intruder raised his arm.  Jacob, concealed by
+a fold of the tent, could just make out that the man's hand grasped some
+weapon.  The next instant there was a plunge downward of the hand, and a
+suppressed exclamation of surprise.  But Jacob waited to see and hear no
+more.  Catching up a spade, which he knew was close by, he aimed a
+furious blow at the intended assassin.  He did not, however, fully reach
+his mark--the blow fell partly short, yet not altogether; there was a
+cry of pain and terror, and then the murderous intruder rushed from the
+tent, and made his escape, before Jacob could recover his balance, which
+he had lost in the violence of his stroke.  And now conjecture and
+suspicion were changed to certainty.  He could not doubt whose was the
+voice that uttered that cry; it was too hateful to him ever to be
+forgotten; he was now sure that his surmises were true, and that the man
+whom he had twice seen so near him was the same who had just been
+attempting his life, and was none other than Juniper Graves.  He must
+have blackened his hair and cultivated a moustache, which would account
+for Jacob's being puzzled to identify him.  As soon as he could recover
+from his surprise, Jacob armed himself with a revolver, and cautiously
+examined the ground outside his tent, thinking that perhaps his enemy
+might be lurking about, or might have been disabled by the blow of his
+spade.
+
+"I'm certain I marked the villain," he said to himself.  "I'm sure, by
+the way he hollered out, he's got summat with him as he'll remember me
+by."  But all was still, except the howling of the wind and the
+pattering and splashing of the driving rain.  Then he made his way to
+the large tent which the brothers, his companions, all occupied in
+common.  He told his story, which, of course, excited both the sympathy
+and indignation of his hearers.  But what was to be done?
+
+"No use looking for him to-night," said one; "he's bolted off far enough
+by this time, you may depend on't.  As good look for a black fellow in
+the Murray reeds, as search for this precious scoundrel in the dark.
+Here; one of us'll come and share your tent to-night, and to-morrow
+we'll raise a hue and cry."
+
+But hue and cry were raised in vain.  Juniper Graves, if he were the
+culprit, was gone, and had left no trace behind.  Nothing more was seen
+or heard of him; no such person was to be found at the diggings, and no
+one seemed to know anything about him.  So Jacob was left in peace till
+the three months were gone, and then returned to Tanindie, the party
+having met with rather more than average good fortune.
+
+When the first greetings were over, and Jacob had expressed his delight
+at the thorough restoration of his master's health, Frank turned to his
+faithful servant and said,--
+
+"Well, Jacob, you've brought me good news, as you've come back safe, and
+a rich man; and, indeed, if you'd only brought yourself it would have
+been good news to me.  But I am not quite so sure that you'll think my
+news good news, when you hear what I have to tell you."
+
+A cloud gathered on Jacob's face, as he said tremblingly,--
+
+"Eh, surely, mayster, you--you--you've not been--"
+
+"Oh, no, no," laughed Frank; "set your mind at rest, Jacob; I'm a
+thorough teetotaller now, and have been ever since you left."
+
+"And mean to be so still, I hope, mayster."
+
+"I hope so," was the reply.  "But you have not heard my news, Jacob.
+I'm thinking of going home; not home to Adelaide, but back across the
+sea again--home to England."
+
+"Indeed, Mayster Frank.  Well, I'm not so sorry to hear it."
+
+"Are you not?" said his master, with a look of disappointment.  "I
+thought you might have been.  At any rate, I shall be sorry to lose
+_you_, Jacob, for you've been more like a brother than a servant to me;
+though, it's true, you'll not be much of a sufferer by losing me."
+
+"Ay, but, Mayster Frank, there's no reason why either on us should lose
+t'other.  I haven't forgotten what you did for me on board ship; and
+I'll serve ye still here or in the old country, till you can find one
+as'll suit you better."
+
+"Jacob, you're a good fellow," replied his master; "you shall be my
+servant, then, and we will go back to Old England together.  I'll tell
+you just how it is.  My dear mother wants me home again--it seems she
+can't be content without me; and as there really is no special reason
+why I should remain in the colony--and certainly I haven't been much of
+an ornament to it, nor credit to my friends here--I think it better to
+meet her wishes and return."
+
+"And I'll go with you, with all my heart," said the other; "only then
+you mustn't think, mayster, as it's all on your own account as says so;
+it wouldn't be honest to let you think so.  Truth is, I've been having a
+talk wi' a good minister as came a-preaching where we were on the
+Sabbath up at the diggings; and he's opened my eyes a bit; or, rather,
+the Lord's opened 'em through him.  So you see, I've been asking him
+what's my duty about them as I've left at home, and it seems to me, by
+what the good man says, as I haven't dealt by 'em quite as I should.
+It's a long story, and I needn't trouble you with it; but it just comes
+to this: I came back from the diggings with my mind made up to go home
+again first opportunity.  So, you see, mayster, as you're going
+yourself, I can go with you all right now."
+
+"And do you know, Jacob--or rather, I'm pretty sure that you don't know,
+that your old friend, Captain Merryweather, has been to Adelaide.  He's
+gone to Melbourne now, but he'll be back in a month, and we can take our
+passage home in the dear old _Sabrina_."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+HOMEWARD BOUND.
+
+It was a month after the return of Jacob and his party from the diggings
+that Frank, Jacob, and Captain Merryweather met on board the _Sabrina_
+at Port Adelaide.
+
+"So, Jacob, my boy," cried the captain; "why, how you're grown!
+Colonial life agrees with you.  I should hardly have known you.  And
+you're coming home in the old ship.  I'm heartily glad of it; that is,
+supposing you're the same lad as when you sailed with me before.  I
+mean, as stanch an abstainer."
+
+"Ay, that he is," said Frank warmly.
+
+"And you too, Mr Oldfield?"
+
+"Well, I am at present," replied the other, colouring; "and I hope to
+continue so."
+
+"Ah, then, I suppose you've never signed the pledge."
+
+"No; more's the pity."
+
+"Oh, Mayster Frank," interposed Jacob, "you promised me, when you were
+so ill, as you'd sign when you got better."
+
+"And so I will; but it's no use signing for the first time now, when I'm
+going home in a total abstinence ship.  I'll join some society at home.
+Our good rector's, for instance.  Yes; I'll join his, and my name and
+example will be really of some use then."
+
+"Excuse me, Mr Oldfield, pressing you on the subject, but I hope you'll
+allow me the privilege of an old friend," said the captain.  "I feel so
+very strongly on the matter.  I've seen so very much mischief done from
+putting off; and if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing at once;
+take my advice--`There's no time like the present;' `Never put off till
+to-morrow what you can do to-day;' these are two good proverbs.  I've
+found them of immense value in my line of life."
+
+"Yes; they're very good proverbs, no doubt," said Frank, laughing; "but
+there are some as good, perhaps, on the other side, though you won't
+think so; for instance, `Second thoughts are best,' and `Better late
+than never.'"
+
+"True, Mr Oldfield; but `late' often runs into never."
+
+Frank made a gay, evasive reply, and turned hastily away, leaving Jacob
+to arrange some matters in his cabin, while he went himself on shore.
+
+He was loitering about among the warehouses till Jacob should join him,
+when a figure which seemed familiar to him approached, in earnest
+conversation with another man, but he could not see the face of either
+distinctly.  After a while they parted, and the man whom he seemed to
+recognise was left alone, and turned towards him.  But could it really
+be?  Dare he believe his eyes?  Yes; there could be no mistake, it was
+indeed Juniper Graves.  That rather reckless character was, however,
+much more spruce in his appearance, and better dressed, than when in
+Frank Oldfield's service.  There was an assumption of the fine gentleman
+about him, which made him look ludicrously contemptible, and had Frank
+not been roused to furious indignation at the sight of him, he could
+hardly have refrained from a violent outburst of merriment at the absurd
+airs and graces of his former servant.  As it was, breathless with
+wrath, his eyes flashing, and his face in a crimson glow, he rushed upon
+the object of his just resentment, and, seizing him by the collar,
+exclaimed in a voice of suppressed passion,--
+
+"You--you confounded scoundrel! you rascally thief!  So I've caught you
+at last.  I'll make very short work with _you_, you ungrateful villain."
+
+Then he paused for a moment, and shaking him violently, added,--
+
+"What have you to say for yourself, why I shouldn't hand you over at
+once to the police?"
+
+Nothing could be more whimsically striking than the contrast between
+Juniper Graves' grand and jaunty bearing a moment before, and his
+present utter crawling abjectness.  He became white with terror, and
+looked the very picture of impotent cowardice.  But this was but for a
+minute; then his self-possession returned to him.  He felt that, if his
+master gave him over immediately in charge to the police, everything was
+lost; but if he could only get a hearing for a few minutes, before any
+further step was taken, he was persuaded that he could manage to stem
+the torrent that was bearing against him, especially as, fortunately for
+him, Frank Oldfield and himself were alone.  His first object,
+therefore, was to gain time.
+
+"Oh, Mr Frank, Mr Frank!" he cried beseechingly, "spare me--spare me--
+you don't know all--you're labouring under a great misapplication; if
+you only knew all, you'd think very indifferently of me."
+
+"That's just what I do now," said the other, smiling in spite of
+himself.  Juniper saw the smile.  He was satisfied that his case was not
+hopeless.
+
+"Pray, Mr Frank," he said humbly and softly, "pray do take your hand
+off my coat; there's no need, sir--I shan't try to escape, sir--I'll
+follow you as impressively as a lamb--only give me time, and I'll
+explain all."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Frank; "do you mean to tell me that you'll explain
+back my fifty pounds into my pocket again?"
+
+"Yes, sir, and more besides, if you'll only be patient and hear me.
+Thank you, sir.  If you'll just step in here, sir, I hope to be able to
+explain all to your satisfaction."
+
+They entered a little office connected with a weighing-machine, which
+happened to be vacant at the time.
+
+"Now, mind," said Frank Oldfield, when they were shut in alone, "I'll
+have a straightforward statement, without any prevarication, or I give
+you over at once into custody.  If you can't clear yourself, and I don't
+see how you possibly can, there's the jail before you, the only place
+you're fit for."
+
+"I'm quite aware, sir, that appearances are against me," said the other
+meekly; "but, Mr Frank, you'll not refuse to listen to your old
+servant, that's devoted himself so faithfully to you and yours in
+England, and came across the seas just because he couldn't abide to be
+separated from you any longer."
+
+"Come, sir," said Frank Oldfield sternly; "I'm not to be talked over in
+this way.  You weren't so very anxious to avoid separation when you left
+me on a sick-bed, and made off with my fifty pounds.  Come, sir, give me
+your explanation, as you call it, at once, and without any nonsense
+about your faithfulness to me and mine, or I shall put the prison-door
+between you and me, and that'll be a separation you'll not get over so
+easily."
+
+"But you haven't heard me, sir; you haven't heard all.  You don't know
+what I have to say in attenuation of my offence."
+
+"I mayn't have heard all, Juniper, but I've both heard and seen about
+you a great deal more than I like; so let me warn you again, I must have
+a plain, straightforward statement.  What have you done with my money,
+and how can you justify your abandoning me in my illness?"
+
+"Ah!  Mr Frank, you little know me--you little know what's in my heart.
+You little know how every pulse reverberates with deepest affection.
+But I'll go to the point, sir, at once;" for Frank began to exhibit
+signs of impatience.  "When I saw you was getting ill, sir, and not able
+to care for yourself, I says to myself, `I must ride off for a doctor.
+But what'll my poor master do while I'm gone? he's no power to help
+himself, and if any stranger should come in--and who knows it mightn't
+be one of these bushrangers!--he'd be sure to take advantage of him and
+steal his money while he lay helpless.'  So says I to myself again, `I
+think I'll risk it.  I know it'll look awkward,'--but there's nothing
+like a good conscience, when you know you haven't meant to do wrong.
+`I'll just take the money with me, and keep it safe for him till I get
+back.'  Nay, please, Mr Frank, hear me out.  Well, I took the fifty
+pounds, I don't deny it; it may have been an error in judgment, but
+we're all of us infallible beings.  I rode off to find a doctor, but no
+doctor could I find; but I met a young bushman, who said he'd get some
+one to look after you till I could return."
+
+"And why didn't you return; and how came you to want two horses to fetch
+the doctor with?" asked Frank impatiently.
+
+"Ah! dear sir, don't be severe with me till you know all.  I took both
+the horses for the same reason that I took the money.  I was afraid a
+stranger might come while I was away, perhaps a bushranger, and the very
+first thing he'd have laid his hands on would have been the horse."
+
+"Well; and why didn't you come back?"
+
+"I did try, sir, to come back, but I missed my road, and made many
+fruitful efforts to regain my lost track.  At last, after I'd tried, and
+tried, and tried again, I gave up in despair, and I should have perished
+in the scowling wilderness if I hadn't met with a party going to the
+diggings.  Then the thought crossed my mind, `I'll go and dig for gold;
+if I succeed, I'll show my dear master that I'm no slave to Mammoth, but
+I'll lay down my spoils at his feet; and if I fail, I cannot help it.'
+Well, sir, I went and dug with a good will.  I prospered.  I came back
+to look for my dear master, but I could not find him--he was evacuated.
+At last I heard that you were going to England, Mr Frank, and I said to
+myself; `I'll go too.  I'll pay my own passage.  I'll be the dear young
+master's devoted servant, and he shall see by my unwearied intentions
+that I never really could have meant to do him wrong.'"
+
+"And do you really think me such a fool as to believe all this?" asked
+Frank contemptuously.
+
+"Yes, sir; I do hope you will, sir," was the reply of Juniper.  "There,
+sir," he added, "I'll give you the best proof that I'm not the rogue you
+took me for.  Please, sir, to read what's on that packet, and then open
+it."
+
+Frank took from his hands a heavy parcel, on which was clearly written,
+"F Oldfield, Esquire; from Juniper Graves."  He opened it.  It contained
+six ten-pound notes and a leather bag full of nuggets.
+
+"There, sir," said Juniper, triumphantly, "you can tell that this is no
+got-up thing.  I've had no time to write these words on the paper since
+you collared me.  I've carried it about just as it is for weeks, as you
+may plainly see by looking at the cover of it, till I could give it into
+your own hands."
+
+It was clear, certainly, that the paper had been folded and directed
+some considerable time back, as was manifest from the marks of wear and
+rubbing which it exhibited.  Frank was staggered.
+
+"Really, Juniper," he said, "I don't know what to think, I can't deny
+that this packet has been made up for me before our present meeting, and
+it has all the appearance of having been some considerable time just as
+it now is.  It certainly looks as if you didn't mean to rob me, as
+you've paid me, I should think, nearly double what you took.  Of course,
+I don't want that.  I shall not take more than my fifty pounds."
+
+"Oh, sir, do take the rest, as some amends for the anxiety I've caused
+you by my foolish act, in taking charge of your money in the way I did
+without your knowledge or permission.  It was wrong, and I oughtn't to
+have done it; but I meant it for the best.  And oh, dear master, do
+think the best of me.  I never did mean to harm you; and I'm ready to go
+with you now from the Pole to the Antipathies."
+
+"No, Juniper, I shall only take my own," said his master; and he
+restored him one of the ten-pound notes and the nuggets, which Juniper
+accepted with apparent reluctance.
+
+"So far," said Frank Oldfield, "let bygones be bygones.  I trust that
+you'll not make any more such awkward mistakes."
+
+"You're satisfied then, sir?" asked Graves.
+
+"Yes, so far as my money is concerned.  But there's a graver charge
+against you still.  Jacob Poole has informed me, and asserts it most
+positively, that you stole into his tent at the diggings and tried to
+murder him."
+
+"Well, did I ever!" exclaimed Juniper, holding up both his hands in
+amazement.  "I really think, sir, that young man can't be quite right in
+his head.  _Me_ try to murder him! why, I've never set eyes on him since
+the day he spoke so impertinently to me at the cottage.  _Me_ murder
+him! what can the poor, silly young man be thinking of.  It's all his
+fancy, sir; merely congestion of the brain, sir, I assure you; nothing
+but congestion of the brain."
+
+"It may be so," replied Frank; "but here he comes himself; let us hear
+what he has to say on the subject."
+
+They both stepped out into the open air as Jacob Poole came up.
+
+Poor Jacob, had he seen the "father of lies" himself walking with his
+master, he could hardly have been more astounded.  He rubbed his eyes,
+and stared hard again at Frank and his companion, to assure himself that
+he was not mistaken or dreaming.  No; there could be no doubt of it.
+Frank Oldfield was there, and Juniper Graves was as clearly there; and
+it was equally plain that there was more of confidence than of distrust
+in his master's manner towards the robber and intended murderer.  What
+could it all mean?
+
+"Come here, Jacob," said Frank.  "I see you look rather aghast, and I
+don't wonder; but perhaps you may find that Juniper Graves here is not
+quite so black as we have thought him.  He acknowledges that he took my
+fifty pounds, but he says he never meant to keep it; and that he missed
+his way in looking for a doctor, and afterwards joined a party at the
+diggings."
+
+"Well, Mayster Frank?" said Jacob, with a look of strong incredulity.
+
+"Ah, I see you don't believe it, and I own it don't sound very likely;
+but then, you see, he has given me a proof of his wish not to wrong me;
+for--look here, Jacob--he has returned me my fifty pounds, and wanted me
+to take another ten pounds, and some nuggets besides, his own hard
+earnings at the diggings; only, of course, I wouldn't have them."
+
+"Indeed, mayster," replied Jacob, with a dry cough of disbelief; and
+glancing at Juniper, who had assumed, and was endeavouring to keep up on
+his cunning countenance, an appearance of injured virtue.
+
+"Yes, indeed, Jacob," said his master; "and we mustn't be too hard upon
+him.  He did wrong, no doubt, and he has made the best amends he could.
+If he had been a thorough rogue, he never would have cared to seek me
+out and return me my money with large interest.  And, what's more, he's
+coming over to England in the same ship with us; not as my servant, but
+paying his own passage, just for the sake of being near me.  That
+doesn't look like a thoroughly guilty conscience."
+
+"Coming home in the same vessel with us!" cried Jacob, in utter
+astonishment and dismay.  "Coming home in the same vessel!"
+
+"Yes, Mr Poole," said Juniper, stepping forward, and speaking with an
+air of loftiness and injured innocence; "and, pray, why not coming home
+in the same vessel?  What have _you_ to say against it, I should like to
+know?  Am I to ask _your_ leave in what ship I shall cross the brawny
+deep?  Have you a conclusive right to the company of our master?--for he
+is mine as well as yours till he himself banishes me irresolutely from
+his presence."
+
+"You shall not sail in the same vessel with us, if I can hinder it, as
+sure as my name's Jacob Poole," said the other.
+
+"And how _can_ you hinder it, Mr Poole, I should like you to tell me?
+I ask nobody's favour.  I've paid my passage-money.  I suppose my brass,
+as you wulgarly call it, is as good as any other man's."
+
+"Well," said Jacob, "I'll just tell you what it is.  You'll have to
+clear up another matter afore you can start for England.  You'll have to
+tell the magistrate how it was as you crept into my tent at the
+diggings, and tried to stick your knife into me.  What do you say to
+that, Mr Juniper Graves?"
+
+Just the very slightest tremor passed through Juniper's limbs, and the
+faintest tinge of paleness came over his countenance at this question,
+but he was himself again in a moment.
+
+"Really," he exclaimed, "it's enough to throw a man off his balance, and
+deprive him of his jurisprudence, to have such shocking charges brought
+against him.  But I should like, sir, to ask this Mr Poole a question
+or two, as he's so ready to accuse me of all sorts of crimes; he don't
+suppose that I'm going to take him for judge, jury, and witnesses,
+without having a little shifting of the evidence."
+
+"Well, of course, it's only fair that you should ask him for proof;"
+said Frank.
+
+"Come, then, Mr Poole," said Juniper, in a fierce swaggering tone,
+"just tell me how you can _prove_ that I ever tried to murder you?
+Pooh! it's easy enough to talk about tents; and knives, and such things,
+but how can you prove it that I ever tried to murder you? a likely
+thing, indeed."
+
+"Prove it!" exclaimed Jacob, evidently a little at fault.
+
+"Yes, prove it.  Do you think I'm going to have my character sworn away
+on such unsubstantial hallucinations?  Tell me, first, what time of the
+day did it happen?"
+
+"It didn't happen in the day at all, as you know well enough."
+
+"Was it dark?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Could you see who it was as tried to murder you, as you say?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how do you know it was me?"
+
+"I hit the scoundrel with my spade," said Jacob, indignantly, "and made
+him sing out, and I knowed it were your voice; I should have knowed it
+among a thousand."
+
+"And that's all your proof," said the other, sneeringly.  "You knowed my
+voice."
+
+"Ay," replied Jacob; "and I left my mark on you too.  There's a scar on
+your hand.  I haven't a doubt that's it."
+
+"Can you prove it?" asked the other, triumphantly.  "A scar, indeed!  Do
+you think scars are such uncommon things with men as works hard at the
+diggings, that you can swear to one scar?  A precious likely story!"
+
+"Ah, but I saw you myself."
+
+"When?"
+
+"At two of the preachings."
+
+"Preachings! and what then?  I didn't try and murder you at the
+preachings, did I?  But are you sure it was me, after all, as you saw at
+the preachings?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"How was I dressed?  Was the person you took for me just the same as me?
+Had he the same coloured hair--smooth face, like me?"
+
+"I'll tell you plain truth," said Jacob, warmly; "it were you.  I'm as
+sure as I'm here it were you; but you'd blacked your sandy hair, and
+growed a beard on your lip."
+
+"Well, I never!" cried the other, in a heat of virtuous indignation.
+"Here's a man as wants to make out I tried to murder him; but when I
+asks him to prove it, all he says is, he couldn't see me do it, that he
+heard my voice, that I've got a scar on my hand, that he saw me twice at
+some preachings, but it wasn't me neither; it wasn't my hair, it wasn't
+my beard, and yet he's sure it was me.  Here's pretty sort of evidence
+to swear away a man's life on.  Why, I wonder, young man, you ain't
+ashamed to look me in the face after such a string of tergiversations."
+
+"I think, Jacob," said his master, "you'd better say no more about it.
+It's plain you've no legal proof against Juniper; you may be mistaken,
+after all.  Let us take the charitable side, and forget what's past.
+There, shake hands; and as we're to be all fellow-voyagers, let us all
+be friends."
+
+But Jacob drew back.
+
+"No, mayster; I'll not grip the hand of any man, if my heart cannot go
+with it.  Time'll show.  By your leave, I'll go and get the dog-cart
+ready; for I suppose you'll be going back to Adelaide directly?"
+
+His master nodding assent, Jacob went to fetch the vehicle, and on his
+return found his master in earnest conversation with Juniper.
+
+"Good-bye, then, Juniper, till we meet next Thursday on board the
+_Sabrina_," he cried.
+
+"Good-bye, sir; and many thanks for your kindness."
+
+Jacob, of course, uttered no word of farewell; but just looking round
+for an instant, he saw Juniper's eyes fixed on him with such a look of
+deadly, savage hatred, as assured him--though he needed no such
+assurance--that his intended murderer was really there.
+
+"I think, Jacob, you're rather hard on Juniper," said his master, as
+they drove along.  "He has done wrong; but I am persuaded he has still a
+strong attachment to me, and I really cannot think he can have been the
+person who tried to murder you.  Why should you think it, Jacob?  He's
+never done you any harm before."
+
+"Mr Frank, you must excuse me; but I'm sure I'm not mistaken.  He's
+always hated me ever since the day I spoke out my mind to you at the
+cottage.  Take my word for it, Mr Frank, he's no love for you; he only
+wants to make a tool of you, just to serve his own purposes."
+
+"Nay, nay, Jacob, my good fellow; not so fast.  He cannot be so utterly
+selfish, or he never would have offered me the extra ten-pound note and
+the nuggets, over and above the fifty pounds, if he hadn't really a love
+for me, and a true sorrow for what he has done wrong."
+
+"I cannot see that," was the reply.  "Of course, he knowed he was likely
+to meet you when he came to Adelaide; and he was pretty sure what'd
+happen if you gave him in charge to the police.  He knowed well enough
+they wouldn't listen to his tale; so, just to keep clear of the prison,
+he gave you the money, and made up his story just to save hisself.  He
+knowed fast enough as you'd never take more nor your fifty pounds."
+
+"Ah, but Jacob," said his master, "you're wrong there.  He had made up
+the parcel, nuggets and all, and directed it to me long before he saw
+me.  Don't that show that he intended it all for me, whether he met me
+or no?"
+
+"Not a bit of it, Mr Frank," replied Jacob, bluntly.  "He knowed
+precious well how to play his game.  I'll be bound there's summat wrong
+about his getting this gold; I'll ne'er believe he dug it up hisself.  I
+shouldn't wonder if he hasn't robbed some poor chap as has worked hard
+for it; and now he wants to get out of the colony as fast as he can
+afore he's found out.  And, in course, he's been carrying this brass
+lapped up a long time, just in case you should light on him at any time,
+and he might seem to have a proper tale to tell.  But you may be right
+sure, Mr Frank, as you'd ne'er have seen a penny of it if he could only
+have got clear out of the colony without coming across yourself."
+
+"You're not very charitable, Jacob, I think," said his master; "but it
+may be as you say.  And yet, why should he be so anxious to go out in
+the same ship with me?  If he wanted to keep his money to himself; why
+didn't he keep close till the _Sabrina_ was gone, and then sail by the
+next vessel?"
+
+"Perhaps he did mean it, Mr Frank, only you happened to light on him."
+
+"No, that cannot be, for he says he has paid for his own passage."
+
+"Then, if that's a true tale," said the other, "I'll be bound he's not
+done it with any good meaning for you or me.  I shall keep both my eyes
+well open, or he'll be too much for me.  And as for you, Mr Frank, oh,
+don't listen to him, or he'll hook all your brass as he's given you out
+of your pocket again, or he'll lead you back to the drink if he can."
+
+Frank coloured, and looked troubled, and turned the conversation to
+another subject.
+
+At last the day of sailing came.  The _Sabrina_, taken in tow by a
+steam-tug, soon made her way to Holdfast Bay, where she was to lie at
+anchor till Saturday morning.  Hubert and his uncle accompanied Frank
+Oldfield thus far, and then returned in the steam-tug.  Before they
+parted, Hubert had a long conversation with his friend in his cabin.
+His last words were of Mary, and Frank's one special temptation; and
+they separated with a fervent grasp, and eyes brimming with tears.  Yet
+in neither of their hearts was there hope.  Hubert felt that his friend
+had not satisfied him that he really meant utterly and for ever to
+renounce strong drink; and Frank felt that he had withheld any positive
+promise so to abstain, because he knew that the deep-rooted purpose of
+his heart was to resume the indulgence which would be his ruin, body and
+soul.
+
+And where was Juniper?  No one saw him on deck; and yet assuredly he was
+on board the vessel, for Jacob had seen him come up the side.
+
+Saturday morning, and a fine favourable wind.  Up comes the anchor--the
+_Sabrina_ bends to the breeze--away they go!  Kangaroo Island is reached
+and passed.  Then emerges Juniper Graves from his cabin between decks,
+and smiles as he looks around him.  All is safe now.
+
+The _Sabrina_ had been gone ten days, when a weary, downcast-looking man
+entered Mr Abraham Oliphant's office.
+
+"Your name ain't Oliphant, is it?" he asked, doggedly.
+
+"Yes, it is," said Hubert, whom he was addressing.
+
+The man got up, and stared steadily at him for a minute.
+
+"It ain't him!" he muttered to himself.
+
+Hubert was inclined at first to be amused; but there was something in
+the man's manner that checked his merriment.
+
+"You want my uncle, perhaps," he said.
+
+Mr Abraham Oliphant came at his nephew's summons.  The man, who had all
+the appearance of a returned digger, shook his head.
+
+"_You've_ neither on you been to the diggings, I reckon?"
+
+"No; we have neither of us been," said the merchant.
+
+"Are there any of your name as has been?" asked the other.
+
+"None; I can answer for it," was the reply.  "My sons have none of them
+been; and we, with my nephew here, are all the Oliphants in this colony.
+No Oliphant has been to the diggings from South Australia."
+
+The man sighed deeply.
+
+"Can you make anything out o' that?" he asked, handing a piece of soiled
+paper to Mr Oliphant.  "I can't read myself, but you can read it."
+
+The merchant took the piece of paper and examined it.  It had once been
+part of an envelope, but had been torn and rolled up to light a pipe,
+and one end, where it had been used, was burned.  The words left on it
+were all incomplete, except the names "Oliphant" and "Australia."  What
+was left was as follows:--
+
+  _yes_,
+  _Oliphant_,
+  _delaide_,
+  _th Australia_.
+
+Both uncle and nephew scrutinised it attentively.  At last Hubert
+said,--
+
+"I can tell now who this belonged to."
+
+"Who?" cried the man, eagerly.
+
+"Why, to one Juniper Graves, a servant of Mr Frank Oldfield's.  He
+chose to take upon himself to have his letters from England directed to
+the care of my uncle, and this is one of the envelopes."
+
+"And where is he?  Can you tell me where I can find him?" cried the
+digger, in great excitement.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll not find him at all, my friend," replied the
+merchant, "for he left the colony in the _Sabrina_ for England ten days
+ago."
+
+The effect of this announcement on the poor man was tremendous.  He
+uttered a violent imprecation, stamped furiously on the ground, while he
+ground his teeth together.  Then he sat down, and covered his face with
+his hands in mute despair.
+
+"I fear there has been some foul play," said Mr Oliphant to his nephew.
+
+"Foul play!" cried the unfortunate digger, starting up furiously.  "I'll
+tell you what it is.  Yon rascal's been and robbed me of all as I got by
+my hard labour; and now he's got clean off.  But I'll follow him, and
+have the law of him, if I work my passage home for it."
+
+"I've always had a suspicion that the fellow had not come honestly by
+his gains," said Hubert.
+
+"And why didn't you stop him?  Why didn't you have him taken up on
+suspicion?" exclaimed the other bitterly.
+
+"I had no grounds for doing so," replied Hubert.  "He might have come
+honestly by his money for anything I knew to the contrary.  There was
+nothing to show that he had not been successful, as many other diggers
+have been."
+
+"Successful!" cried the poor man.  "Ay, he's been successful in making a
+precious fool of me."
+
+"Tell us how it happened," said Mr Oliphant.
+
+"Why, you see, gentlemen, my mates and me had done very well; and they
+was for going to Melbourne with what they'd got, but I was for stopping
+to get a little more.  Well, I was all alone, and a little fidgetty like
+for fear of getting robbed, when one evening I sees a sandy-haired chap
+near my tent as didn't look much used to hard work; so I has a bit o'
+talk with him.  He seemed a greenish sort of piece, and I thought as
+p'raps I might just make use of him, and keep him for company's sake.
+So he and I agreed to be mates; he was to do the lighter work, and I was
+to do the hard digging, and keep the biggest share of what we got.  So
+we chummed together; and he seemed a mighty pleasant sort of a cove for
+a bit.  He was always a-talking, and had his mouth full o' big words.  I
+never said nothing about what I'd got afore, and he never seemed to care
+to ask me.  But it were all his deepness.  One night he pulls out a pack
+of cards, and says, `Let's have a game.  Only for love,' says he, when
+he saw me look a little shyly at him.  `I'm not a gambler,' says he; `I
+never plays for money.'  So we has a game and a pipe together, and he
+pulls out a little flask of spirits, and we got very cheerful.  But I
+was careful not to take too much that night.  However, the rum set my
+tongue loose, and I let out something about having more gold than he
+knowed of.  I was mighty vexed, however, next day, when I remembered
+what I'd said.  But he never said a word about it, but looked werry
+innocent.  A few nights arterwards we gets drinking and smoking again.
+Then he took a little too much himself.  I knowed it, because next day
+he was axing me if I'd see'd anything of an envelope as he'd lost.  I
+told him `no;' but the real fact was, he'd twisted it up to light his
+pipe with, and I'd picked up the bit as he threw away, and put it in my
+pocket.  I didn't think anything about it then; but next day, when he
+made a great fuss about it, and the day after too, I said to myself;
+`I'll keep the bit of paper; maybe summat'll turn up from it one of
+these days.'  So I took it out of my pocket when he were not by, and
+stowed it away where I knew he couldn't find it.  But I shall weary you,
+gentlemen, with my long story.  Well, the long and short of it was just
+this.  He managed to keep the spirit-bottle full, and got me jolly well
+drunk one night; and then I've no doubt I told him all he wanted to know
+about my gold, for I know no more nor the man in the moon what I said to
+him.  I asked him next day what I'd been talking about; and he said I
+was very close, and wouldn't let out anything.  Well, it seems there was
+a strong party leaving the diggings a day or so arter; but it was kept
+very snug.  Jemmy Thomson--that was what my new mate called himself to
+me--had managed to hear of it, and got leave to join 'em.  So, the night
+afore they went, he gets me into a regular talk about the old country,
+and tells me all sorts of queer stories, and keeps filling my pannikin
+with grog till I was so beastly drunk that I knew nothing of what had
+happened till it was late the next morning.  Then I found he was off.
+He'd taken every nugget I'd got, and some bank-notes too, as I'd stowed
+away in a safe place.  The party had started afore daybreak; and nobody
+knowed which way they'd gone, for they'd got off very secret.  I was
+like one mad, you may be sure, when I discovered what he'd been and
+done.  I took the bit of paper with me, and managed somehow to get to
+Melbourne.  I tried to find him out; some only laughed at me.  I went to
+the police; they couldn't do nothing for me--some on 'em told me it
+served me right for getting drunk.  Then I went to a minister; and he
+was very kind, and made all sorts of inquiries for me.  He said he'd
+reason to believe as Jemmy Thomson--as the rascal called himself--was
+not in Melbourne.  And then he looked at my paper.  `Call on me to-
+morrow,' says he.  And so I did.  Then he says, `There's no Oliphant
+here as I can find out; but there's a Mr Abraham Oliphant, a merchant,
+in Adelaide.  This letter's been to him; you'd better see him.'  So I've
+come here overland with a party; and now I must try my hand at summat or
+starve, for I shall never see my money nor the villain as stole it no
+more."
+
+Mr Oliphant was truly sorry for the unfortunate man, and bade him take
+heart, promising to find him employment if he was willing to stick to
+his work and be sober.  The man was thankful for the offer, and worked
+for a few weeks, but he was still all athirst for the gold, and, as soon
+as he could purchase the necessary tools, set out again for the
+diggings, with an earnest caution from Mr Oliphant to keep from the
+drink if he would not suffer a repetition of his loss and misery.
+
+And thus it was that Juniper Graves had acquired his ill-gotten wealth.
+Having ascertained that a party was returning to South Australia, he
+joined himself to them, and got safe off with his stolen gold.  As Jacob
+Poole had surmised, he had made up the packet of notes with the nuggets,
+that, should he happen to fall in with his master, he might be able to
+pacify him, and so prepare the way for regaining his favour and his own
+hold upon him.  He felt quite sure, from what he knew of Frank
+Oldfield's generous character, that he never would take more than the
+fifty pounds, and he was aware that unless he made unhesitating
+restitution of that sum, he was in danger of losing all, and of being
+thrown into prison.  And now he was anxious to leave the colony as soon
+as possible, that he might put the sea between himself and the man he
+had robbed; and, having ascertained that Frank Oldfield and Jacob Poole
+were returning to England in the _Sabrina_, he took his passage in the
+same vessel, partly with the view of getting his young master once more
+into his power, and partly in the hope of finding an opportunity of
+wreaking his vengeance on Jacob Poole.  Therefore he was determined to
+leave no stone unturned to regain his influence over Frank, for his
+object was to use him for his own purposes both during and after the
+voyage.  To this end his first great aim would be to cause, if possible,
+an estrangement between Jacob and his master.  He also hoped to do his
+rival--as he considered Jacob--some injury of a serious kind, without
+exposing himself to detection.  So far he had succeeded.  All had
+prospered to his utmost wishes; and, as the shores of Kangaroo Island
+faded from the view of the voyagers, he hugged himself in secret and
+said,--
+
+"Bravo, Juniper!--bravo!  You've managed it to a T.  Ah, Mr Jacob
+Poole!  I'll make your master's cabin too hot to hold you afore any of
+us is a month older."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+A MAN OVERBOARD.
+
+And now we bid farewell to Australia, and follow the _Sabrina_ in her
+homeward voyage.  It was soon evident that there was no love lost
+between Captain Merryweather and Juniper Graves, nor between that
+cunning gentleman and honest, straightforward Jacob.  With Frank,
+however, it was different.  Jacob soon found that his place was often
+taken by Juniper, and that himself was gradually losing his old place in
+his master's confidence and good graces: Frank would also frequently
+spend a long time in Juniper's cabin between decks, from which he
+returned in a state of great hilarity.
+
+"Jacob," said the captain to him one day, "I can't quite make it out.  I
+thought your master was an abstainer."
+
+Jacob shook his head.
+
+"I thought so too, captain; but I've found myself grievously mistaken.
+He's no mind to give up the drink, you may be sure.  He's only teetotal
+when he cannot get it."
+
+"I'm pretty sure," said the other, "that he takes it now.  That fellow
+Juniper Graves is no fit companion for him."
+
+"Ah, captain, that man's been his ruin in Australia; and he'll be his
+ruin when he gets back to the old country, if he doesn't shake him off.
+But I fear he'll ne'er do that.  The old lad hasna a fitter tool in all
+the world nor yon chap.  He'll not stick at anything.  He's tried
+robbery and murder, and he'll not be over nice about squeezing all he
+can out of the poor young mayster."
+
+Jacob then related to Captain Merryweather all he knew of Juniper
+Graves' proceedings, and both he and the captain agreed together to
+watch him, and do their utmost to keep poor Frank out of his clutches.
+
+"I don't care so much about myself," said Jacob; "though I'm quite sure
+he'd knock me overboard any day, if he'd the chance of doing it without
+being seen, for he hates me worse nor poison.  But I'm grieved to the
+heart to see him winding hisself round Mayster Frank, who's so kind and
+so warm-hearted and so free.  I cannot forget how he risked his life to
+save mine when we was coming out, as you know, captain; and I'd give my
+own life for him now, if I could only get him clear of yon cunning
+rascal as is leading him blindfold to hell."
+
+"I've no doubt," said the other, "that this man has brought spirits on
+board, and that he and Mr Oldfield drink in his cabin together."
+
+"Yes," replied Jacob; "and you may be quite sure as he'll hook all the
+brass out of the young mayster afore the voyage is over."
+
+It was just as Jacob and the captain surmised.  Juniper Graves had
+brought a good stock of brandy and rum on board with him, and took care
+that Frank Oldfield should pay handsomely for what he was willing, after
+much solicitation, to part with.  Let us look in upon them, as they sit
+together by Juniper's berth.  The time is midnight.  Frank has stolen in
+while the captain has been sleeping, for he fears being seen going there
+by the honest sailor.  There is a curtain hung up before the door to
+hide the light.  A small candle lamp hung on gymbals is fixed to the
+woodwork, and throws a scanty gleam on the two figures which are engaged
+in earnest play.  Yet how different are these two, spite of their
+companionship in evil!  Frank, still beautiful in the refined cast of
+features, out of which intemperance has not yet been able to sear the
+traces of gentle blood and early culture; bright too and graceful in the
+masses of rich chestnut hair which adorn a forehead high and noble, yet
+now, alas! often crossed by lines of weary, premature care.  Juniper, a
+compound of cat, fox, monkey, wolf--every feature of his contemptible
+face instinct with the greediest, most self-satisfied cunning.  How
+could two such, so widely different in natural character, be yet so
+agreed?  Alas! what will not the love of the drink, the slavery of the
+drink, the tyranny of the drink accomplish?  Each holds his cards
+characteristically.  Frank so carelessly that his adversary can see
+them; Juniper grasping and shading his with jealous vigilance, lest a
+single glimpse of them should be visible to his opponent.  A large
+spirit-flask stands under the berth close by Juniper's hand, and a glass
+is within the reach of each.  They play on, for a while, in silence.
+Frank's money is clearly slipping through his fingers, though he is
+allowed now and then to win, especially when he gets at all restive or
+suspicious.
+
+"There, Juniper," says Frank at last, and in no steady voice, "I declare
+you'll clean me out before long.  I do believe you've come on board for
+the sake of squeezing me dry, as Jacob says."
+
+"As Jacob says!" cries the other, with affected indignation and
+astonishment.  "I wish, sir, that conceited young puppy had never set
+foot on this vessel.  What does he know of the sort of aversions as are
+suited to a gentleman of your birth and retrospects?"
+
+"Juniper," replies the other, "I think the `aversions,' as you call
+them, belong to you and not to me, if I may judge by your aversion for
+poor Jacob; and as for `retrospects,' I think the less I say about them
+the better."
+
+"Well, sir, I don't know," replies Juniper, huffily; "you may amuse
+yourself; sir, with my humble efforts at a superior style of soliloquy;
+but I'm sure you're doing me injustice, and allowing yourself to be
+bamboozled, if you let yourself be talked over by that canting
+hypocrite."
+
+"Steady--steady, my boy!" cries Frank; "you're half-seas over, Juniper,
+or you could not say so.  Come, hand us the brandy.  We'll let Jacob
+alone, and drink his health, and the health of all good lads and
+lasses."
+
+"As you please, sir," says Juniper, sulkily.
+
+The next morning, when Frank Oldfield appeared on deck, his face and
+whole appearance bore the unmistakable marks of last night's excess.
+His very breath also told the same miserable tale.  As for Juniper,
+though he had drunk more cautiously, yet he did not show himself outside
+his cabin till the afternoon.  The captain had his eye upon him, and
+could not help remarking to himself what a look of deadly malice and
+venomous baseness pervaded every feature of the villain's face.
+
+"He's up to some mischief more than common, I'll be bound," he said to
+himself.  "I'll keep a sharp look-out for you, my friend."
+
+A short time after, and Juniper had disappeared, nor did he emerge from
+his retreat till the evening.  He was then in high spirits, laughing and
+chatting with the sailors, and every now and then glancing up at Jacob,
+who was walking up and down the poop with Captain Merryweather.  At
+last, just as Jacob was descending to the main-deck, and had his foot on
+the topmost step of the ladder, the vessel lying over under a breeze on
+the quarter, Juniper suddenly sprang up the steps in a state of great
+excitement, shouting out, "A whale!--a whale!"  Every one but the
+captain turned suddenly round in the direction to which Juniper was
+pointing, Jacob among the number, so that he hung partly over the water.
+
+"Where?" cried several voices.
+
+"There!" he exclaimed, suddenly stumbling with his whole might against
+Jacob, so as very nearly to hurl him into the sea.  Indeed, had not the
+captain, who was on the watch, sprung forward and caught hold of him, he
+must have inevitably gone overboard.
+
+"You scoundrel!" shouted the captain, seizing Juniper by the collar, and
+sending him spinning down the ladder on to the deck below, where he lay
+half stunned for a few moments.
+
+"I'm up to your tricks, my man," he added, as Juniper limped off to his
+cabin, vowing vengeance.
+
+"What's amiss, captain?" asked Frank, in great astonishment.  "What's
+poor Juniper been doing?  No great harm in fancying he saw a whale, even
+supposing he was mistaken."
+
+"Mr Oldfield," said the captain, sorrowfully, "you don't know that
+fellow.  If ever there was a serpent in a human body, there's one in
+that man of yours.  Bear with me, my dear sir, if I offer you an earnest
+word or two of caution.  I can see that you are not the man you were
+when we crossed the seas together before.  We had a very happy voyage
+then, and you remember how strong and settled you were on the subject of
+total abstinence.  Is it so now?  Ah! don't let that wretched fellow
+take all that's good and noble out of you.  He don't care a straw for
+you nor for any one but himself; I'm quite certain.  He has mischief in
+his eye, and there's a black heart under that smooth tongue--if I know
+anything of what a rogue's like, and I've boarded many that have been
+sailing under false colours in my day.  You must excuse my speaking so
+warmly and plainly, Mr Oldfield; but I really cannot bear to see you
+running on to the reefs without giving you a word of warning."
+
+"Thank you--thank you, captain," said Frank.  "I know you mean kindly,
+but I still think you're hard upon Juniper.  I believe he's a faithful
+fellow, with all his faults; and he isn't without them, I'll allow.  But
+he's sincerely attached to me, I believe, and that makes up for a good
+deal."
+
+"Attached to you, Mr Oldfield! don't think it!  He's only making a tool
+of you--he'll just get all he can out of you, and then he'll scuttle
+you, and leave you to sink."
+
+"I can't think it, I cannot indeed," was Frank's reply; "there's an old
+proverb about giving a dog a bad name.  He's no friend of yours, I know,
+nor of Jacob Poole's either, and I'm sorry for it."
+
+"And is he really acting a friend's part by you, Mr Oldfield?" asked
+the other.  Frank coloured, and evaded the question.
+
+"At any rate, Jacob has no real cause to be at such daggers-drawn with
+him," he said.
+
+"Do you think not?  Are you aware that he was trying to knock Jacob
+overboard only a few minutes ago, and that he attempted his life at the
+diggings?"
+
+"Oh, captain, it's all fancy; you're mistaken, both of you.  I'm sure
+you're mistaken.  Juniper's not the sort of fellow--he hasn't it in
+him--he hasn't the pluck to commit murder, even if he had the will to do
+it."
+
+"Ah, Mr Oldfield," cried the captain, "I say again, beware of him; you
+don't know him; if you'd seen the spite in his eye that I've seen you
+wouldn't talk so.  He has malice enough in him to take away life, if he
+felt sure he could do it without detection and punishment.  And is he
+not, at this very moment, stealing away from you the life of body and
+soul?  Don't be offended, pray, Mr Oldfield; but I say again, I can't
+bear to see you drifting on to the rocks, and not lend a helping hand to
+keep you off."
+
+"I'm not offended, my kind friend," said Frank sorrowfully; "you tell
+the truth, I fear, when you say I'm drifting on to the rocks; and yet I
+don't mean to go on as I'm doing now, I assure you--when I touch land
+again I'm going to turn over a new leaf altogether, and paste it down
+over the old ones, so that I shall make quite a fresh start."
+
+"And do you think," asked the other, "that this fellow will let you keep
+your good resolutions, even if you had the wish to do so?"
+
+"Oh yes," replied Frank, carelessly; "I've told Master Juniper that his
+reign will only last on board ship; I'm to be master, and we're both to
+say `good-bye' to the drink when once we set foot on shore, and he's
+quite agreeable."
+
+"Of course he is," said the captain; "he'll be willing to promise
+anything for the future, if you'll only let him keep his hold on you
+now.  Well, sir, I've warned you, and I hope you may lay it to heart."
+
+"I will, my good friend; indeed I will," was the reply.  That evening
+Frank kept himself out of Juniper's reach, much to the disgust and
+annoyance of that gentleman, who began to dread lest he had over-reached
+himself; and set his old master against him.  It was not so, however.
+Juniper had become necessary to Frank, and a day or two found them as
+fast friends as ever.
+
+And now the _Sabrina_ had accomplished half her homeward course, and
+many a heart on board rejoiced in the hope of a speedy and prosperous
+completion of the voyage.
+
+It was a chilly and boisterous afternoon, the clouds were hurrying in
+leaden-coloured layers along the sky, the sea was all in a foam, and
+patches of whitish upper clouds, beneath which the lower drift was
+scudding, threw a lurid light over the wide expanse of ocean.  The wind,
+which had hitherto been favourable, now veered, and obliged them to
+tack.  The captain, at this juncture, was on the poop, with Frank
+Oldfield by him.
+
+"I haven't seen Mr Juniper Graves to-day," said the former.
+
+"To tell you the truth," answered Frank, "he and I have been having a
+few words together."
+
+"I'm not sorry for it," remarked the captain drily; "nothing serious,
+however, I hope."
+
+"Nothing very, perhaps; but the matter's simply this: I've been fool
+enough to play cards with him for rather high stakes lately, and I fancy
+that I've detected my man peeping over my cards, and using a little
+sleight of hand in his shuffling too."
+
+"I'll be bound he has," remarked the other.
+
+"If he'd been a poor man," added Frank, "I could have excused it; but
+the fellow's got a whole fortune in nuggets and notes stowed about him.
+He's a sort of walking `Crocus,' as he told me once, when he wasn't over
+sober,--meaning `Croesus,' of course."
+
+"And so you've given him a little of your mind, I suppose."
+
+"Yes; and it's wounded my gentleman's dignity considerably; so there he
+is below, hugging his gold, and comforting himself in his own way, which
+isn't much in your line or Jacob's, captain, and I wish it wasn't in
+mine."
+
+"In other words," said Captain Merryweather, "he's pretty nearly drunk
+by this time."
+
+"You're somewhere about right," was the reply.  Immediately after this
+short dialogue the captain proceeded to give the orders for tacking in a
+stentorian voice, as the wind was high.
+
+"Ready, ho! ready!" he cried.  All were standing ready at their posts.
+Then the word was given to the man at the wheel.
+
+"Helm's a-lee!" roared the captain.  There was rattling of chains,
+flapping of canvas, and shuffling of feet.
+
+"Mainsail h-a-u-aul!" bellowed the captain in a prolonged shout.  Round
+went the great sail under the swift and strong pulls of willing hands.
+
+"Let go, and h-a-u-aul!" once more roared out the captain in a voice of
+thunder.
+
+It was just at this moment, when all was apparent confusion, when ropes
+were rattling, feet stamping, sails quivering, that Juniper Graves
+emerged from his cabin on to the main-deck, his head bare, and his sandy
+hair flying out wildly into the breeze.  His eyes were strained and
+bloodshot, and his whole appearance was that of a person in an agony of
+terror.  Aroused from his drunken sleep by the noise overhead, and
+terrified to find the vessel heeling over to the other side, he
+imagined, in his drunken bewilderment, that the ship had struck, and
+that himself and his gold were in danger of perishing with her.  Filled
+with frenzy at this idea, he rushed out upon deck, where the general
+apparent confusion confirmed his fears; then he sprung upon the
+bulwarks, gazed around him in utter dismay at the crew in busy motion
+about him, tottered on his insecure standing-ground, caught at a rope to
+save himself; missed it, and then, with a terrible shriek of horror and
+despair, fell headlong overboard into the boiling waters.
+
+"Save him! oh, save him!" cried Frank Oldfield imploringly.  "Where is
+he?  Let me go, let me go," he screamed, for he was about to plunge
+overboard, and the captain was holding him back with his powerful grasp.
+
+"It's no use, Mr Oldfield; it'll only be two lives instead of one."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes," besought Frank; "put the ship about--lie-to--throw over
+a hen-coop, a life-buoy, for mercy's sake--the poor wretch isn't fit to
+die," and he still struggled to free himself.
+
+"Listen to reason, sir," said the captain.  "We can do nothing; the
+ship's running nine knots, and no one knows where to look for him;
+nothing can save him, miserable man; he's sunk no doubt, at once, and
+all the faster for having his gold about him."
+
+"Can nothing be done?" cried Frank, beseechingly.
+
+"Nothing, I assure you," replied the other; "there's not a trace of him
+to be seen, is there, Mr Walters?"  The first mate shook his head.
+"We're far enough off now from the spot where he fell in.  It's in mercy
+to you, sir, that he's been taken away."
+
+Frank sank upon a seat, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing
+bitterly.
+
+Yes; the tempter was gone, gone to his account--suddenly cut off in the
+midst of his sins, hurried away in righteous retribution by the very
+death himself had planned for Jacob Poole.  Yes; the tempter was gone,
+and the tempted still remained.  Would he take home to his heart the
+lesson and warning God had thus sent him?  The tempter was gone, but,
+alas! the temptation was not gone.  Frank had even now in his cabin
+several flasks of that drink which had already borne such miserable
+fruits for himself and the guilty wretch just hurried into the presence
+of his offended God.  He had bought the spirits from Juniper at an
+exorbitant price, but would he use them now, after what had happened?
+The night after Juniper's awful death he sat in his cabin weeping.
+Thoughts of home, of mother, father, Mary, crowded in upon his heart.
+The days that once were, when he would have joined with real willingness
+and hearty earnestness the band of abstainers, as he sat in all boyish
+sincerity at Mr Bernard Oliphant's table, eager to make the trial and
+bear the cross, were fresh upon his memory now.  And all the bitter
+past, with its shameful, degrading, sinful records, gathered its thick
+shadows round his soul.  What should he do?  He sank upon his knees and
+prayed--prayed to be forgiven, prayed that he might do better--and then
+he rose, and was in part comforted.  And now, what should he do with the
+spirits which were still in his possession?  He took them out and ranged
+the flasks on his berth.  His scuttle stood open.  One minute and he
+could have thrown them all into the sea.  Conscience said, "Do it, and
+do it at once."  But another voice whispered, "Pity to waste so much
+good stuff; drink these out, but only a moderate quantity at a time, and
+then you can renounce the drink for ever."  He listened to the second
+voice, and conscience sighed itself to sleep.
+
+Alas! alas! what fiend like the fiend of drink?  It can steal away every
+good resolution, drown the voice of conscience, and make a man cheat
+himself into the belief that the indulgence of to-day is a warrant and
+guarantee for the abstinence of to-morrow.  Frank was satisfied; he felt
+sure that it would be wiser to wean himself gradually from his drinking
+habits; he would use the strictest moderation with his present little
+stock, and then he should more readily forsake it altogether when this
+was gone.  And so he continued to drink, but more and more sparingly, as
+he himself supposed, because he was really training himself to a gradual
+surrender of the drink, but in reality because he dreaded to be left
+altogether without it.  And so the taste was kept up during the
+remainder of the voyage, and Frank Oldfield landed on the shores of his
+native country with the thirst strong upon him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
+
+HOMELESS AND HEARTLESS.
+
+The _Sabrina_ was bound for Liverpool, and entered that port some two
+years after the time when she left it with Hubert Oliphant and Frank
+Oldfield as fellow-passengers.  Alas! how different were the feelings of
+the latter now, from those with which he trod the deck of that vessel
+when preparing for his temporary exile.  Then, though sad, he was full
+of hope; now he was both heartless and hopeless; he knew he was the
+bond-slave of the drink, and, whatever he might say to others, he felt
+in his own heart that it was useless any longer to try and cheat himself
+with the transparent phantom of a lie.  Yet he could not for shame
+acknowledge thus much to others, nor would he allow his conscience to
+state it deliberately to himself; he still clung to something, which was
+yet neither conviction nor hope, that he might even now master his
+besetting sin.  Alas! he desired the good end, but he would not use the
+only means to that good end; and so, when he landed on the soil of the
+old country again, it was with the settled determination, (though he
+would not have believed his own handwriting, had he put down that
+determination on paper) not to give up the drinking of intoxicating
+liquors at present.  How then should he face his parents and Mary
+Oliphant?  He could not face them at all as yet.  He could not at once
+make up his mind what to do.  Happily for him, Juniper Graves had been
+cut off before he had been able to effect a complete spoliation of his
+master, so that Frank had still rather more than two hundred pounds in
+his possession.  While this money lasted, he resolved to stave off the
+evil day of taking any decided step.  He would not write to his mother
+or Mary till he had quite made up his mind what course he was intending
+to pursue.  He was also well aware that the family of Bernard Oliphant
+could give him no welcome with his present habits of excess still upon
+him.  So, on the day of reaching Liverpool, he said to Jacob Poole,--
+
+"Well, Jacob, are you quite tired of my service, or will you stay by me
+a little longer?  I've no right or wish to stand in your way, and if you
+would like to make another voyage with Captain Merryweather, or can find
+any other situation that will suit you better than mine, I would not
+have you consider yourself bound to me at all."
+
+"Mayster Frank," was Jacob's reply, "I'm not going to leave you now,
+unless you wish to part with me yourself.  I don't feel happy in leaving
+you to go by yourself nobody knows where."
+
+"Really, Jacob, you make a capital nurse," said the other, laughing;
+"you seem to be quite convinced that I'm not to be trusted to run
+alone."
+
+"And it's true, sir," replied Jacob, seriously; "you need looking after,
+and I mustn't be letting you get into the hands of any of those chaps
+as'll hook all as you have out o' you in no time--that is, if you're
+going to stay by yourself in this big town."
+
+"Why, yes, Jacob; I shall not go down to my father's at once.  I don't
+seem as if I _could_ go.  I'd better wait a little bit.  I seem out of
+trim, and out of sorts altogether."
+
+"You must please yourself," replied Jacob; "and you must know best,
+Mayster Frank, what you're bound to do.  But, if you'd take my advice,
+you'd go home at once, afore anything worse happens."
+
+"No, Jacob, I cannot yet, and so that's settled.  Now we must look-out
+for lodgings; they mustn't be expensive ones, else the brass, as you
+call it, won't hold out, and you can wait on me, and keep me in order,
+you know.  But, by the way, I was forgetting that you have friends of
+your own to look after.  Don't let anything I've been saying prevent
+your going to them, and doing what's right by them.  I shall be quite
+willing to come into any arrangement you may like to make.  Don't
+consider yourself bound to me, Jacob, but just do whatever you feel to
+be your duty."
+
+"You're very kind, Mayster Frank: it's just this way with me.  I should
+like to go and see arter them as I left behind when I sailed for
+Australia, and see how they're coming on.  But it don't matter for a
+week or so, for they're not looking for me.  I'll see you settled first
+properly, Mayster Frank, if you mean to settle here for a bit, and then
+I'll just take a run over yonder for a few days, and come back to you
+again, and what I do afterwards'll depend on how I find things yonder."
+
+And thus it was finally settled.  Frank took quiet lodgings in a
+respectable by-street, in the house of an aged widow, who was delighted
+with his cheerful open manners, and did her best to make him and Jacob
+comfortable.  But the time hung heavily on the hands of both master and
+man.  Frank purposed daily writing home, and yet each to-morrow found
+him more reluctant to do so than the day before.  Jacob loitered about
+the town and docks when his master did not want him, and got exceedingly
+weary of his idleness.
+
+"Eh, ma'am," he said one day to their landlady, "my arms fair ache with
+hanging down and doing nothing."
+
+Thus things went on for about a fortnight, when one evening at tea-time
+Frank failed to make his appearance.  Seven o'clock, then nine and ten,
+but no master came to remove poor Jacob's misgivings.  At last, about
+midnight, a stumbling against the door and a violent knock made his
+heart die within him.
+
+"Who's there?" he cried, before opening the door.
+
+"Me, old king of trumps!" cried a voice which he knew to be Frank's.
+The minute after, the wretched young man staggered in almost helpless.
+Next day was a season of bitter sorrow, self-reproach, and remorse; but,
+alas! not to be followed by any real amendment, for Frank was now seldom
+home till late, though he was never again grossly intoxicated.  But a
+shadow had now settled habitually on his once bright and open
+countenance, which Jacob could not quite understand, and which was
+almost more sad to him than the degrading flush and vacant stare
+produced by excess in drink.  Something dreadful was amiss, he was sure,
+but he could not tell, and hardly dare conjecture what it might be.
+Very, very loth then was he to go, when the time came for his leaving
+his master entirely to his own devices.  He would gladly have put off
+his journey, but Frank would not hear of it, and was evidently annoyed
+when Jacob urged the matter.  So it was finally settled that he should
+be away for a few days, not exceeding a fortnight.  The night but one
+before his intended departure, Jacob was pleased to find that his master
+did not leave home, but took his tea at his lodgings, a very unusual
+thing of late.  After tea he made Jacob come and sit with him, and they
+had a long talk over Australian matters, and the events of their late
+voyage.  At last Frank said,--
+
+"Jacob, I don't wish to pry into your concerns, or to ask questions
+which you may not like to answer.  I hope, however, that you will not
+scruple to ask my advice on any matter in which I can be of service to
+you."
+
+"Well, thank you, sir," replied Jacob, with a sort of embarrassment in
+his manner, "you're very kind, but I've reasons just now why I'd like to
+say as little as possible about myself to any one.  If I find them as
+I'm going to seek, I may have much to say; but maybe I may find things
+so as'll make it better I should forget as ever I'd any belonging me."
+
+"Just so," said his master; "you must be the best judge of your own
+matters, and I would not intrude on your private concerns for a moment;
+only I should just like to know what you mean to do with your bag of
+nuggets; you must be careful where you put it.  It would be hardly wise
+to carry it about with you, if you don't mean to turn it into money at
+present."
+
+Jacob was troubled at the question, yet he could hardly tell why; he
+answered, however,--
+
+"Well, Mayster Frank, I'm not thinking of meddling with my nuggets at
+present."
+
+"Hadn't you better then leave them with me till you return?" asked
+Frank.
+
+Poor Jacob was sorely puzzled what to reply.  He looked down, and there
+was an awkward pause.  At last he said,--
+
+"I cannot rightly tell what'll be the best to do.  Mayster Oldfield, you
+mustn't be offended, but I'd better be plain and outspoken.  You'd not
+mean to wrong me of a farthing, I know; but you must be well aware
+you're not always your own mayster.  So if you cannot keep your own
+brass safe, I can hardly think it wise to trust you to take charge of
+mine.  I don't wish to vex you, Mayster Frank, but that's just the
+honest truth."
+
+"Quite right, Jacob, quite right," said his master, laughing; "you don't
+vex me at all.  I should do just the same, if I were in your place.
+Suppose, then, you give your bag in charge to our landlady the morning
+you start; that'll be soon enough, for, poor soul, she'll be glad, I
+daresay, not to have charge of other folk's treasure a day longer than
+necessary; and I'll be a witness that you give it into her charge."
+
+"Thank you, mayster," said Jacob, greatly relieved; "that's good advice,
+and I'll follow it."
+
+The next evening, the last before Jacob's expedition, Frank again
+remained at home.  He had been out all the morning.  Jacob looked
+anxiously at him when he returned.  He clearly had not been drinking--at
+any rate immoderately--yet there was something in his look which Jacob
+could not fathom, and if ever Frank met his servant's eye, his own
+immediately fell.
+
+"I'm not satisfied as all's right," said Jacob to himself, "and yet I
+cannot tell what's amiss."
+
+That night his sleep was restless and disturbed.  Once he fancied that
+his door was opened, and that his master appeared and drew back again.
+Their rooms were on the opposite sides of the same landing.  Again he
+fancied, or dreamt, that a hand passed under his pillow, where he kept
+his nuggets.  It was quite dark--he started up and felt for the bag; it
+was there quite safe, and he laid him down again.  But yet again he
+seemed to feel a hand behind his pillow.
+
+"I must have been dreaming," he muttered to himself; "the bag's right."
+
+Yes, there it was all right when he rose in the morning.  He was to
+start by an early train, so, hastily dressing himself, and having
+breakfasted, he came to say farewell to his master.
+
+"Oh, Mayster Frank," he said, grasping the other's outstretched hand,
+"I'm heavy at the heart at leaving you.  I cannot tell why, but there's
+a weight like lead upon me.  Oh, dear Mayster Frank, for my sake, for
+your own sake, for the sake of all them as loves you, will you promise
+me to keep off the drink, leastways till I come back?  Will you pray the
+Lord to help you, Mayster Frank?  He _will_ help you, if you'll pray
+honestly."
+
+What was it that affected his unhappy master so powerfully?  Frank's
+whole frame shook with emotion.  He stared at Jacob with a gaze of
+mingled remorse and agony such as touched the other to the quick.
+
+"Jacob," gasped his master, at last, "I cannot let you go thus--you
+don't know--I've--I've--" He paused for a moment, and tears and sobs
+burst from him.  Then he sat down, and bowed his head on his knees,
+clasping his hands tightly together.  Then an unnatural calmness
+followed; he muttered something to himself, and then said, in a tone of
+affected indifference and gaiety,--
+
+"There, it don't matter; the best of friends must part.  You'll be back
+before so very long, and I'll try and be a good boy meanwhile.
+
+"Just call up the landlady, Jacob, and we can see her take charge of
+your nuggets."
+
+Jacob did as his master bade him.
+
+"There, Mrs Jones," he said, taking the bag hastily from Jacob's hands;
+"this bag of nuggets belongs to my man.  You see it contains gold," he
+added, opening the mouth of the bag, and taking out a small nugget;
+"there," tying it up with the string which he had removed from it,
+"he'll know where to look for them when he comes back.  We've the
+fullest confidence, Mrs Jones, that they will be safe in your keeping."
+
+"Indeed, sir," said the landlady, curtseying, "I'd rather _you_ should
+keep them."
+
+"No, no, Mrs Jones; Jacob knows very well that you're to be trusted,
+but that I'm not."
+
+"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Mrs Jones; but she was at a loss what farther to
+say, for she felt that poor Frank spoke only the sober truth.  At last
+she said,--
+
+"Well, sir, I'll take charge of them, as you both seem to wish it, and
+I'll take care that no one sees where I put them."
+
+And so Jacob and his master parted.
+
+Ten days passed by, and then Jacob, downcast and weary, made his way to
+the lodgings.  His heart died within him at the expression of the
+landlady's face when she had opened the door to him, and found that he
+was alone.
+
+"Where's Mr Oldfield?" he gasped.
+
+"That's just what I was going to ask you, Mr Poole."
+
+"What! you don't mean to say he's left your house?"
+
+"He has indeed," was the reply.  "I've seen nothing of him since the day
+after you left."
+
+"Seen nothing of him!" exclaimed Jacob in complete bewilderment; "but
+has he sent you no message--no letter?"
+
+"No, Mr Poole, he's neither sent nor written.  He paid me all he owed
+me up to the last night he slept here, and that's all I know."
+
+"And has he left no message, nothing to tell one where he's gone?" asked
+Jacob.
+
+"Nothing," she said, "unless this letter's from him--it came a few days
+ago."
+
+Jacob seized it, and tore it open.  When he had read a few lines he let
+it drop upon the floor, and stood gazing at it as though some strange
+fascination glared out from it upon him.  Then he took it up again, read
+it deliberately through, laid it on the table, and sitting down, burst
+into an agony of weeping.  The letter was as follows:--
+
+  "DEAR JACOB,--I _must_ write to you, though I hardly can hold my pen,
+  and every letter, as I write, seems like blood wrung out from my
+  heart.  Well, it's no use; you shall have the naked truth at once.  I
+  have robbed you, Jacob, artfully, basely, deliberately, cruelly robbed
+  you, and all through the cursed drink.  I hate myself for it as the
+  vilest wretch upon earth.  And yet I have no excuse to make.  I have
+  been gambling with a wretched set of sharpers, who got hold of me when
+  I was drunk.  They cleaned me out of every penny.  I was ruined--I was
+  desperate--I thought if I could get hold of your nuggets I could turn
+  them into money, win back what I had lost, and repay you with
+  interest.  I got some lead, melted it in a shovel, (I need not tell
+  you _where_ I did this; it was in no good place, you may be sure).  I
+  made the lead into the shape of nuggets.  The night but one before you
+  left I tried to find out where you kept your bag; you were restless
+  and clutched at your pillow.  I knew then that it was there.  I got
+  another leather bag and filled it with the leaden nuggets I had made.
+  These I slipped behind your pillow, and took away the real ones, the
+  night before you left; you felt for them, and fancied you had them
+  safe.  When I had got out the gold, I crouched down in the dark till
+  you were fast asleep again.  Then I drew out the bag very carefully
+  from behind your head, and changed it for your own bag, having first
+  filled your own bag with the leaden nuggets and one or two little bits
+  of gold at the top, so that you had your own bag when you woke in the
+  morning, but I had your gold in the other bag.  There, you know all
+  now, you can understand all the rest.  I sold your nuggets--I spent
+  part of the money in drink--I played again--I've lost all--I shall
+  never be able to repay you--I dare not look you in the face--I dare
+  not look my father and mother in the face--I dare not look--it's no
+  matter.  You are an honest fellow, Jacob, and will get on, spite of my
+  villainy.  If you ever marry and have children, make them total
+  abstainers, if you would keep them safe in body and soul.  As for
+  myself, I cannot mend--I'm past it--I've been cheating myself with the
+  belief that I meant to mend, but I never did.  I see it now.  There,
+  Jacob, I don't ask you to forgive me, but I do ask one thing--grant it
+  me for the love you once had to me--it is this: wait a month, I shall
+  be out of the way by that time, and then post the enclosed letter to
+  my poor mother.  I have told her how I have robbed you.  My father
+  will repay you.  Tell him where he can find you.  I shall soon be out
+  of everybody's reach.  And now all I have got to ask you is just to
+  wipe me out of your thoughts altogether, and to forget that there ever
+  was such a person as your guilty, miserable, degraded master."
+
+"Oh, Mr Poole," said his landlady, compassionately, when he had begun
+to recover from the first vehemence of his grief, "I fear there's
+something dreadfully wrong."
+
+Jacob shook his head.
+
+"All lost--all ruined," he replied.  Yet even now his heart yearned
+towards his miserable master.  He would not expose him to Mrs Jones;
+she at least should know nothing of his own loss.
+
+"Mrs Jones," he said, holding out his hand, "I must say good-bye.  I
+fear my poor master's got into very bad hands.  I don't rightly know
+what's become of him; but where there's life there's hope, and I trust
+he isn't past that.  If you and I meet again, may it be a happier
+meeting.  Be so good as to hand me my--my--bag I left in your charge,"
+he added, with quivering voice.
+
+"I'm so sorry," said the good woman, when she had fetched the bag.  "I
+wish I could do anything to comfort you.  I'm sure I'm truly sorry for
+the poor young gentleman.  It's a thousand pities he's thrown himself
+away, for a nicer or freer-spoken gentleman never was, when he was in
+his proper senses.  There, Mr Poole, there's your bag.  You see it's
+just as you gave it me.  No one has seen it or touched it but myself."
+
+"Thank you, Mrs Jones.  It's all right; farewell, and the Lord be with
+us both."
+
+He turned from the door utterly broken down in spirit.  Whither should
+he go?  What should he do?  Should he really abandon his master to his
+fate?  He could not.  Should he delay posting the letter?  No; and yet
+he felt a difficulty about it; for Frank had stated in his letter to
+himself that he had told his mother of the robbery, and that Jacob must
+be repaid his loss.  But who was to say what was the worth of the
+nuggets?  He had never ascertained their value.  He felt that he could
+not face his master's father; that he could not himself put a value upon
+what he had lost.  His master had saved his life, and he would set that
+against the pilfered gold, and would forgive what had been done against
+himself.  So having ascertained that it was only too true that his bag
+contained but two or three little pieces of the precious metal, he cast
+the rest of its contents into the sea, and determined to start afresh in
+life, as if the sorrowful part of his past history never had been.  But
+first he posted Frank's letter, with one of his own, in which he stated
+where he had lodged in Liverpool, that so his master's parents might
+have every opportunity of endeavouring to trace their unhappy son.  His
+own letter was as follows:--
+
+  "MADAM,--Mr Frank Oldfield, your son, has bid me send you the letter
+  from him which comes with this.  Mr Frank is my master.  You have no
+  doubt heard him say something in his letters from Australia about
+  Jacob Poole.  Well, I am Jacob Poole.  And we came to England
+  together, my master and me; and my master has took, I am sorry to say
+  it, to drinking again since he came back.  I wanted him to go home at
+  once, but he has kept putting it off, and he has got into the hands of
+  some gamblers as has stripped him of all his brass; and he has taken,
+  too, some nuggets of mine, which I got at the diggings, but he didn't
+  mean to keep them, only to borrow them, and pay me back.  But, poor
+  young gentleman, he has been quite ruinated by these cheating chaps as
+  has got hold of him.  So I don't want anybody to think anything more
+  about me or my nuggets--I should not like any fuss to be made about
+  them--I had rather the whole thing was kept snug.  I shall go and get
+  work somewhere or other; and, thank the Lord for it, I am young and
+  strong.  So, dear madam, don't think any more about me or my nuggets;
+  for Mr Frank saved my life when he might have lost his own, so he is
+  welcome to the nuggets, and more into the bargain.  I am sorry that
+  Mr Frank has gone off; so I cannot tell you where to find him.  I
+  have tried, but it isn't any use.  We--that is, my master and me--was
+  lodging with Mrs Jones, as I've written at the top of the letter.  I
+  can tell you no more about where to find him.  So no more at present
+  from your very humble servant, JACOB POOLE."
+
+  "Mr Frank has written to me not to post his letter for a month, but I
+  don't think it is right to keep it from you, so I send it at once."
+
+Such was Jacob's letter, when cleared of mistakes in spelling and
+expression.
+
+Frank's letter to his mother was in these words:--
+
+  "DEAREST MOTHER,--How shall I write to you!  What shall I say to you?
+  I feel as if my pen scorched my fingers, and I could not hold it.  I
+  feel as though this very paper I am writing on would carry on it the
+  blush of burning shame that covers me.  Darling mother, how shall I
+  tell you what I am?  And yet I must tell you; I _must_ lift the veil
+  once for all, and then it shall drop for ever on your miserable son.
+  I am in England now.  I do not know where I shall be when you receive
+  this.  I went out to Australia, as you know, hoping to become a sober,
+  steady man.  I am returned to England a confirmed drunkard, without
+  hope, ay, even without the _wish_ to break off from my sin.  I cannot
+  look you or my father in the face as I am now.  I never could look
+  Mary in the face again.  I shall never write or breathe her name
+  again.  I have no one to blame but myself.  I have no strength left to
+  fight against my sin.  I am as weak before the drink as a little
+  child, and weaker.  I could pray, but it's no use praying; for I have
+  prayed often, and now I know that I never really desired what I prayed
+  for.  I dare not face the prospect of entirely renouncing strong
+  drink.  I once dreamed that I could, but it was only a dream; at
+  least, since I first began habitually to exceed.  But can I go on and
+  tell you what my love for the drink has led me to?  I must, for I want
+  you or my dear father to do one thing for me, the last I shall ever
+  ask.  Oh, don't cast me utterly out of your heart when you hear it,
+  but I must tell it.  I have robbed my poor faithful servant, Jacob
+  Poole, of his nuggets, which he got by his own hard labour.  I
+  secretly took them from him, and spent what they fetched in drink and
+  gaming.  I meant to win and pay him back, but I might have known I
+  never could.  Yes, I robbed the poor young man who nursed me, worked
+  for me, prayed for me, remonstrated with me, bore with me.  I robbed
+  him when his back was turned.  Oh, what a vile wretch the drink has
+  made me!  Can you have any love for me after reading this?  Oh, if you
+  have, I want you or my father to repay Jacob for his nuggets which I
+  stole.  He's as honest as the day.  You may trust him to put no more
+  than a fair value on them.  One more request I have to make, darling
+  mother.  Oh,--deal kindly by _her_--I said I would never write her
+  name again, and I will not.  I dare not write to her, it would do no
+  good.  Tell her that I'm lost to her for ever; tell her to forget me.
+  And do _you_ forget me too, dearest mother.  I could be nothing but a
+  thorn, a shame, a burden in my old home.  I will not tell you where I
+  am, nor where I shall be; it is better not.  Forget me if you can, and
+  think of me as dead.  I am so for all better purposes; for everything
+  good or noble has died out of me.  The drink has done it.  Your
+  hopeless son, FRANK OLDFIELD."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
+
+A MISERABLE DEATH.
+
+Three days after Jacob Poole had posted his letter and its enclosure, a
+cab drove up to Mrs Jones's door.  In it were Sir Thomas and Lady
+Oldfield.  No one who saw them could doubt of the bitter sorrow that had
+stamped its mark upon their noble features.
+
+"Are you Mrs Jones, my poor--poor son's landlady?" asked Lady Oldfield,
+when they were seated in the parlour.  She could add no more for
+weeping.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," was the reply.  "I'm sure I'm very sorry, ma'am, very
+indeed; for Mr Oldfield was a most kind, free-spoken gentleman; and if
+he'd only--only--"
+
+"I understand you," said the poor sorrowing mother.
+
+"And Jacob Poole; what has become of him?" asked Sir Thomas.
+
+"I'm sure, sir, I don't know.  All I can tell is, that he's sure not to
+be anywhere in Liverpool; for he told me the morning he left me that he
+was going to leave the town, and should not come back again."
+
+"I'm grieved to hear it," said the baronet.  "And can you give us a
+clue, Mrs Jones, to our dear misguided child's present place of abode?
+Can you suggest no way of finding it out?"
+
+"I fear not, sir; Mr Oldfield has left nothing behind him except his
+Bible and Prayer-book, which he asked me to accept as a token of his
+kind feeling and regard, he was good enough to say."
+
+"His Bible and Prayer-book!  Oh, let me look at them," exclaimed Lady
+Oldfield.
+
+Mrs Jones brought them.  The Prayer-book was one given him on his
+twelfth birthday by his mother.  His name in it was in her own
+handwriting.  The Bible was a much newer book, and bore but few marks of
+use.  It was a gift from Mary Oliphant.  The handwriting of his name was
+hers, as was also that of two texts below the name, which were written
+out in full--
+
+"Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."
+
+"There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man; but
+God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are
+able, but will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape, that ye
+may be able to bear it."
+
+Lady Oldfield gazed at these books and the writing in them for a long
+time without uttering a word, and without shedding a tear.  It seemed as
+though the sight had for the moment chained every other feeling, and
+left her only the power to stare wildly at the two familiar
+handwritings.
+
+"And he has parted with these," she said at last, half out loud; "he has
+given them away.  Oh, merciful Father in heaven, what has become of my
+unhappy boy?"
+
+"Calm yourself, my dear," said Sir Thomas; "let us hope that things may
+be better than our fears."
+
+"I'm sure, ma'am," said Mrs Jones, "I should never think of keeping
+these books if you or Mr Oldfield's father wish to have them."
+
+"Oh, it is not that, it is not that," sobbed Lady Oldfield.  "Are you a
+mother, Mrs Jones?" she cried, turning abruptly to her.
+
+"Yes, ma'am; I've had seven children, and five are living now."
+
+"Then you'll understand _my_ feelings as a mother.  I fear, oh, I cannot
+say how terribly I fear, that poor Frank means to do something dreadful;
+perhaps to--to--oh, I can't bear to think of it."
+
+"Why, my dear, why," asked her husband, "should you think so?"
+
+"Why, Thomas!  Oh, isn't there something terrible in his parting with
+these two books, my gift and dear Mary's gift, and at such a time?
+Doesn't it seem as if he was turning his back upon everything that is
+good and holy, and simply giving himself up to despair.  Isn't it like
+saying, `The Bible's no longer a book for me, for God is no longer my
+God?'  Isn't it like saying, `Prayer is no longer for me, for God will
+not hear me.'"
+
+"My dearest wife," said Sir Thomas, anxiously, "don't look at the
+darkest side.  Don't lose your faith and trust now.  My good Mrs Jones,
+you see we're in sore trouble.  You can understand how our hearts are
+almost broken about our erring son, but still he _is_ our son, and very
+dear to us; and we want you to help us to find him, if it be possible."
+
+"I'm sure, sir," replied the kind-hearted landlady, "I do feel for you
+both with all my heart, and only wish I knew what to advise.  But really
+I know no more than yourselves where Mr Oldfield is likely to be found.
+It seems that he's wished to keep it a secret, and so he has purposely
+kept me in the dark."
+
+Sir Thomas sighed.
+
+"I understand exactly how it is," he said.  "I do not see what we can
+do, except endeavour to get a clue through the police.  By the way, Mrs
+Jones, you don't happen to know the names or lodgings of any of his
+associates?  That might help us, if you did."
+
+"I do not, sir; for I never saw one of them enter this house.  Your son
+never brought any one home with him as I know of.  Jacob Poole and he
+were the only persons who ever were together here while he had my
+lodgings."
+
+"Do you happen, then, ever to have heard him mention where any of his
+companions lived?  I mean those persons he used to stay out with at
+night or in the day?"
+
+"Never, sir."
+
+"Nor so much as the name of any of his associates?"
+
+"Not once, sir.  I fear--that is to say--"
+
+"Speak out, Mrs Jones, pray.  You know this may be a matter of life and
+death to him, and perhaps to us also.  Don't be afraid of wounding us;
+we want to know everything that can in the least help us in our search."
+
+"Well, sir, I was going to say, only I hesitated to say so much to my
+lodger's own father and mother, that I feared he had got mixed up with
+companions as wouldn't be likely to meet him in any private house."
+
+"I understand you; you think he met his friends, (his companions or
+associates, I mean), at some common rendezvous or club."
+
+"Yes, sir; I fear so from all I heard and saw, and from what Mr Poole
+has said."
+
+"I fear, then, that you can afford us no information that will help us
+at present.  But here is my card; we shall be staying for some days
+probably, possibly for some weeks, at the Albion Hotel.  Will you
+kindly, without fail, let us know, and that without loss of time, if you
+hear or see anything either of our poor son or of Jacob Poole, or of any
+one who may be able to give us any light or any help in our search?"
+
+"You may depend upon me, Sir Thomas," said Mrs Jones; "and I'm sure,
+sir, I hope you and her ladyship will excuse this homely room.  It's
+only very plainly furnished, but it's the one your son occupied."
+
+"Pray, don't make any apologies," said her ladyship; "they are not
+needed.  It is not fine rooms and grand furniture that can give peace.
+I have just one thing to ask you to grant me before we go, and we must
+not delay, for time is precious."
+
+"I'm sure, my lady, I'll grant you anything in my power."
+
+"Let me, then, see the room where my poor boy slept."
+
+"Certainly, ma'am, though it's in a sadly untidy state.  I've not had
+time--"
+
+"Never mind, Mrs Jones; I shall not notice any defects.  My heart aches
+too sorely for me to heed these trifles.  There, thank you; now leave me
+alone in the room for five minutes.  And will you kindly tell my husband
+that I will join him almost directly!"
+
+When the door was closed upon the unhappy mother, she threw herself on
+her knees beside the bed on which her son had slept, too commonly, alas!
+the drunkard's sleep, and poured out her heart with tears to God that
+she might find her poor, lost, and guilty child before it should be too
+late.  Rendered calmer by this prayer, she joined Sir Thomas.
+
+"Farewell, Mrs Jones," she said, as they left the house; "many thanks
+for your kind sympathy.  I trust we may have a less sad tale to tell
+when we meet again."
+
+They drove to their hotel, and Sir Thomas wrote at once to the
+superintendent of police, requesting him to call upon him at the
+"Albion" at his earliest convenience.  In about an hour that functionary
+appeared.  He was a tall and stoutly-built man, of a decidedly military
+carriage; slightly bald, with a peculiarly searching eye, and thin
+decided lips.  His manner was remarkably quiet, and his language precise
+and deliberate.  He evidently always thought before he spoke, and then
+spoke what he thought, and nothing more.  Taking the seat offered him by
+Sir Thomas, but declining any refreshment, he put himself in the
+attitude of listening, as one accustomed to weigh evidence, and to put
+every fact and conjecture into its right box.
+
+"I have requested your kind attendance, Mr Superintendent," began the
+baronet, "that I might ask your advice and help in a matter in which
+Lady Oldfield here and myself are most deeply concerned."
+
+The superintendent gave a slight bend forward, as much as to say that
+this introduction to the subject in hand was a matter of course.
+
+Sir Thomas then, with some embarrassment of manner, gave his hearer an
+account of his son's unhappy career, and his own difficulties about
+tracing him, and concluded by saying,--
+
+"And now, sir, I would ask your help to discover my poor boy before it
+be too late."
+
+The superintendent signified his assent.
+
+"What do you think?" asked Sir Thomas.
+
+"We can find him, no doubt, if he is still in Liverpool," said the
+officer.
+
+"And do you think he _is_ now in Liverpool?" asked Lady Oldfield.
+
+"I do."
+
+"What makes you think, so?" asked the baronet.
+
+"Several things.  First, he'll be likely to stay where he can get most
+easily at the drink.  Secondly, he'll not go away to any near country
+place, because he'd get sooner marked there.  Thirdly, as he seems hard
+up for money, he'll have to pawn anything he may have left that's worth
+pawning, and he can do that best and most secretly in a large town."
+
+Poor Sir Thomas and his lady felt a shiver through their hearts at the
+matter-of-fact way in which these words were uttered.
+
+"You don't think, then," asked the baronet, "that he has started in any
+vessel for America or Australia?"
+
+"No; because no captain would take him as a sailor, and he'd not be able
+to raise money to go even as a steerage passenger.  Besides, he wouldn't
+risk it, as he'd know that all the outward bound vessels might be
+searched for him by that man of his--Poole, I think you called him."
+
+"But don't you suppose he may have left by railway, and gone to some
+other large town?"
+
+"Of course he may, but I don't think he has, because he'll have sense
+enough to know that he can't have much to spare for travelling, if he's
+gambled away his ready money, and don't mean to ask you for any more."
+
+"Perhaps he has done, or means to do, something desperate," said Lady
+Oldfield, tremblingly; "he seemed to hint at something of the kind in
+his letter to me."
+
+"No, he'll not do that, I think--at least not just yet.  Habitual
+drunkards have seldom got it in them.  They'll talk big, but still
+they'll go on hanging about where they can get the drink."
+
+"Then you believe that he is still in Liverpool?" said Sir Thomas.
+
+"That's my belief."
+
+"And you think that you can find him?"
+
+"I do think so.  Was your son fond of low company when he lived at
+home?"
+
+Poor Sir Thomas and his wife winced at this question, but it was put by
+the superintendent simply as a matter of business.
+
+"Why, not exactly," was the reply; "that is to say, he never frequented
+any gatherings of low people, as far as I know.  But he was very much in
+the habit of making a companion of my under-groom, Juniper Graves."
+
+"Ah, exactly so!  And this man drank?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And they played cards together?"
+
+"I fear so."
+
+"Then he's most likely hooked in with a low set--that makes it easier."
+
+"Do you suppose that he is still in connection with any such set?" asked
+Lady Oldfield.
+
+"Pretty certain, if he has let out, when he was tipsy, that his father
+is a gentleman of property.  They'll help him on a bit, if they think
+there's a chance of bleeding him again."
+
+"But you know he has resolved to keep us in ignorance of his abode, and
+all about himself."
+
+"Yes, he meant it when he wrote; but when he's so hard up as to be near
+starving, perhaps he'll change his mind."
+
+"How then would you propose to proceed?" asked Sir Thomas.
+
+The superintendent thought for half a minute, and then said,--
+
+"Have you a photograph of your son with you?"
+
+"I have," said the poor mother.  She took it out of her pocket-book, and
+handed it to the officer.  He looked at it very carefully for some time,
+and then said,--
+
+"I suppose he must be a little older looking than this."
+
+"Yes, surely," was the reply, "for it was taken three years ago, before
+he went out to Australia."
+
+"I must ask you then to spare it me for a few days, as it may help us
+materially."
+
+"And how soon may we hope to hear anything from you?"
+
+"In a day or two I expect, perhaps sooner.  But don't call at the
+office; it will do no good.  You may depend upon hearing from me as soon
+as I have anything to communicate."
+
+That day passed over, a second, and a third day of sickening suspense.
+How utterly powerless the poor parents felt!  Lady Oldfield prayed, but
+oh, there were sad thoughts of bitter self-reproach mingling with her
+prayers.  She could not but remember how she had herself been the chief
+hindrance to her son's becoming a total abstainer when he was bent on
+making the attempt, and had avowed his intention.  Oh, she would have
+given worlds now could she but recall the time, and her own words, when
+she had dissuaded him from renouncing those stimulants which had proved
+to him the cause of sin, ruin, and perhaps death.  Yes; who could tell
+what might have been now had that unhappy remonstrance never passed her
+lips.  Ah, it is easy to laugh down, or press down by a mother's
+authority, the holy resolve of a child who sees the gigantic monster
+drunkenness in some of his hideous proportions, and would gladly take
+that step which would keep him, if leaning on grace for strength, free
+from the deadly snare; easy to laugh down or crush down that resolve;
+but oh, impossible to recall the past, impossible to give back to the
+utterly hardened drunkard his fresh vigorous intellect, his nervous
+moral power, his unstrained will, his unwarped conscience, his high and
+holy resolution!  Lady Oldfield felt it; but the past was now gone from
+her, beyond the reach of effort, remorse, or prayer.  At last, on the
+morning of the fourth day, the superintendent again made his appearance.
+
+"Have you found him?" cried both parents in a breath.
+
+"I believe I am on his tracks," was the reply.
+
+"Oh, thank God for that!" cried the poor mother, clasping her hands
+together.  "He still lives then?"
+
+"I cannot be sure, but I should think so."
+
+"Oh, then, cannot you take us to him?"
+
+"No, madam, not yet; we are only on his tracks at present."
+
+"Would you tell us in what way you have proceeded?" asked Sir Thomas.
+
+"Certainly.  In the first place, the young man's photograph was shown to
+all our constables.  Some thought they knew the face, and could fix upon
+the right person in one of the low haunts they are acquainted with.  But
+after a two days' search they were all disappointed.  Young men dress so
+much alike in these days that it's often very difficult to tell who's
+who till you see them very close.  Then I had the likeness taken round
+to all the publicans' wives, for the women are closer observers of
+features than the men.  Some thought they'd seen such a face, some
+hesitated, one was quite sure she had.  I could tell at once that she
+was right."
+
+"When was this?" eagerly asked Lady Oldfield.
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+"And what did she say?"
+
+"She said that he had been there several nights running with two regular
+cardsharpers, and they'd been drinking.  She was sure it was him, though
+he had disguised himself a little."
+
+"And did you find him?"
+
+"No; he hadn't been there for the last two or three nights.  Perhaps he
+had nothing to spend, for he came the last time in his shirt-sleeves; so
+she supposed he'd pawned his coat."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I sent one of our men last night to see if he'd come again, but
+he never did."
+
+"And what can you do now?"
+
+"Oh, I've left the photograph with the landlady, and she is to see if
+any of her customers recognise it; it'll stand on the counter."
+
+"And what do you think about him now?" asked Sir Thomas.
+
+"That he'll turn up again in a day or two, if he's not ill."
+
+"Oh, can he--can he have destroyed himself in a fit of despair?" gasped
+Lady Oldfield.
+
+"I think not, madam.  Pray don't distress yourself.  I believe we shall
+be able to hunt him out in a day or two.  I shall send a man in plain
+clothes to the gin-shop again to-night to watch for him."
+
+Early the next day the superintendent called again.
+
+"We've found him," he said.
+
+"Oh, where, where is he?" exclaimed the poor mother; "take us to him at
+once!  Oh, is he living?" she asked vehemently, for there was a look of
+peculiar seriousness on the superintendent's face which made her fear
+the worst.
+
+"He is living, madam, but I'm sorry to say that he's seriously ill."
+
+"Send for a cab at once," cried Sir Thomas.
+
+"I have one at the door," said the officer; "one of you had better
+secure a respectable lodging and nurse for him at once, while the other
+goes with me."
+
+"Let _me_ go to him," cried Lady Oldfield.
+
+"It will be a strange place for a lady, but you will be safe with me."
+
+"Oh yes, yes, let me go," was the reply; "am not I his mother?  Oh, let
+us go at once."
+
+"Well, then, Sir Thomas," said the superintendent, "we will call at the
+hotel as we return, if you will leave the direction of the lodgings with
+the landlord."
+
+"And how did you find out my poor boy?" asked Lady Oldfield, as they
+hurried along through a labyrinth of by-streets, each dirtier and more
+dismal than the last.
+
+"My man in plain clothes, madam, watched last night for a long time by
+the bar, but saw no one come in like your son.  At last an old woman,
+who was come for a quartern of gin, stared hard at the likeness, and
+said, `Laws, if that ain't the young gent as is down ill o' the fever in
+our attic!'"
+
+"Ill of the fever!" exclaimed Lady Oldfield.
+
+"Yes; it seems so.  Of course that was enough.  My man went home with
+her, taking the photograph with him, and soon ascertained that the young
+gentleman in question is your son.  But we must stop here.  I'm sorry to
+bring your ladyship into such a place; but there's no help for it, if
+you really wish to see the young man yourself."
+
+"Oh yes, yes," cried the other; "anything, everything, I can bear all,
+if I may only see him alive, and rescue him from his misery and sin."
+
+"Wait for us here," said the officer to the cabman, as they alighted in
+the middle of a nest of streets, which seemed as though huddled
+together, by common consent, to shut out from public gaze their filth
+and guilty wretchedness.  Wretched indeed they were, as the haunts of
+destitution and crime.  All was foul and dingy.  Distorted roofs patched
+with mis-shapen tiles; chimneys leaning at various angles out of the
+perpendicular; walls vile with the smoke and grime of a generation;
+mortar that looked as though it never in its best days could have been
+white; shattered doors whose proper colour none could tell, and which,
+standing ajar, seemed to lead to nothing but darkness; weird women and
+gaunt children imparting a dismal life to the rows of ungainly
+dwellings;--all these made up a picture of squalid woe such as might
+well have appalled a stouter heart than poor Lady Oldfield's.  And was
+she to find her delicately-nurtured son in such a place as this?  They
+turned down one street, under the wondering eyes of old and young, and
+then plunged into a narrow court that led to nothing.  Here, two doors
+down on the left hand, they entered, and proceeded to climb a rickety
+stair till they reached the highest floor.  A voice that sent all the
+blood rushing back to poor Lady Oldfield's heart was heard in high
+strain, and another, mingling with it, muttering a croaking
+accompaniment of remonstrance,--
+
+"Well, you're a fine young gentleman, I've no doubt; but you'll not bide
+long in that fashion, I reckon."
+
+Then came a bit of a song in the younger voice,--
+
+  "Drink, boys, drink, and drive away your sorrow;
+  For though we're here to-day, we mayn't be here to-morrow."
+
+The superintendent knocked at the door, and both entered.  The old woman
+uttered an exclamation of terror at the sight of the strangers, but the
+appearance of Lady Oldfield reassured her, for she divined almost
+immediately who she must be.  On her part, Lady Oldfield instinctively
+shrunk back at her first entrance, and well she might; for the revolting
+sights and odours almost overpowered her, spite of her all-absorbing
+anxiety to find and rescue her beloved child.
+
+The room, if it could be justly called so--for it was, more properly
+speaking, a kind of loft--was lighted, or rather, rendered less dark by
+a sort of half window, half skylight, which looked out upon a stack of
+decayed and blackened chimneys, and so much sickly-looking sky as could
+be seen through the undamaged panes, which were but few, for lumps of
+rags, old stockings, and similar contrivances blocked up many a space
+which had once been used to admit the light, while the glass still
+remaining was robbed of its transparency by accumulated dirt.  There was
+neither stove nor fire-place of any kind.  The walls, if they had ever
+been whitened, had long since lost their original hue, and exhibited
+instead every variety of damp discoloration.  Neither chair nor table
+were there--an old stool and a box were the only seats.  In the corner
+farthest from the light, and where the ceiling sloped down to the floor,
+was the only thing that could claim the name of a bedstead.  Low and
+curtainless, its crazy, worm-eaten frame groaned and creaked ominously
+under the tossings to and fro of the poor sufferer, who occupied the
+mass of ragged coverings spread upon it.  In the opposite corner was a
+heap of mingled shavings, straw, and sacking, the present couch of the
+aged tenant of this gloomy apartment.  The box stood close at the bed's
+head; there were bottles and a glass upon, it, which had plainly not
+been used for medicinal purposes, as the faded odour of spirits,
+distinguishable above the general rank close smell of the room, too
+clearly testified.  Across the floor, stained with numberless
+abominations, Lady Oldfield made her shuddering way to the bed, on which
+lay, tossing in the delirium of fever, her unhappy son.  His trousers
+and waistcoat were thrown across his feet; his hat lay on the floor near
+them; there was no coat, for it had been pawned to gratify his craving
+for the stimulant which had eaten away joy and peace, hope and heart.
+Flinging herself on her knees beside the prostrate form, his mother
+tried to raise him.
+
+"O Frank, Frank, my darling boy," she cried, with a bitter outburst of
+weeping; "look at me, speak to me; I'm your own mother.  Don't you know
+me?  I'm come to take you home."
+
+He suddenly sat up, and jerked the clothes from him.  His eyes glittered
+with an unnatural light, his cheeks were deeply flushed with fever heat;
+his hair, that mother's pride in former days, waved wildly over his
+forehead.  How fair, how beautiful he looked even then!
+
+"Ah, poor young creetur," croaked the old woman; "it's a pity he's come
+to this.  I knowed he were not used to sich a life--more's the shame to
+them as led him into it."
+
+Ay, shame to them, indeed!  But oh, how sad, how grievous that the young
+hand, which might have raised to untainted lips none but those pure
+draughts which neither heat the brain nor warp the sense of right,
+should ever learn to grasp the cup that gives a passing brightness to
+the eye and glitter to the tongue, but clouds at length the intellect,
+fires the brain, and leaves a multitude of wretched victims cast ashore
+as shattered moral wrecks.  To such results, though from the smallest
+beginnings, does the drink _tend_ in its very nature.  Oh, happy they
+who are altogether free from its toils!
+
+The wretched young man stared wildly at his mother.
+
+"Who are you?" he cried.  "I don't know you.  More brandy--where's the
+bottle?  `Here's a health to all good lasses; pledge it merrily, fill
+your glasses.'  Shuffle the cards well; now then, nothing wenture
+nothing win.  Spades are trumps."
+
+"Oh, my boy, my boy," cried the agonised mother, "can nothing be done
+for you?  Has a doctor been sent for?" she cried suddenly, turning to
+the old woman.
+
+"Doctor!" was the reply.  "No, ma'am; who's to pay for a doctor?  The
+young gent's been and popped all his things for the play and the drink;
+and I haven't myself so much as a brass farden to get a mouthful o' meat
+with."
+
+"Oh, will any one run for a doctor?" implored the miserable mother.
+"Here, my good woman," taking out a shilling, "give this to somebody to
+fetch a doctor; quick--oh, don't lose a moment."
+
+"Ay, ay, I'll see about it," mumbled the old woman; "that'll fetch a
+doctor quick enough, you may be sure."
+
+She made her way slowly and painfully down the creaking stairs, and
+after a while returned.
+
+"Doctor'll be here soon, ma'am, I'll warrant," she said.
+
+Lady Oldfield sat on the box by the bed, watching her son's wild stare
+and gesticulations in silent misery.
+
+"I'm glad you've came, ma'am," continued the old woman; "I've had weary
+work with the young gentleman.  I found him outside the door of the
+`Green Dragon' without his coat, and shaking like an aspen.  I couldn't
+help looking at him, poor soul.  I asked him why he didn't go home; he
+said he hadn't got no home.  I asked him where his friends lived; he
+said he hadn't got no friends.  I asked him where he lodged; he said he
+didn't know.  I was a-going to ask him summat else, but afore I could
+speak he tumbles down on the ground.  We'd hard work to lift him up;
+some was for calling police, others wanted to make short work with him.
+But I said, says I, `You just let him alone, I'll look arter him;' and
+so I did.  I just heaved him up, and got him to a door-step, and then I
+fetched him a quartern o' gin, and he got a little better; and then I
+helped him here.  I'd hard work to get him to climb up, but I managed it
+at last.  So here he's been ever since, and that's a week come Friday."
+
+"God bless you for your kindness," cried Lady Oldfield.  "You shall have
+no cause to repent it."
+
+"Nay," said the kind-hearted old creature, "I knows I shan't repent it.
+It's a poor place, is this, for such as he, but it's the best I have,
+and it's what the drink has brought me to, and scores and thousands
+better nor me, and will do again."
+
+In a short time the doctor arrived.  A very rapid inspection of his
+patient was sufficient to show him the nature and extent of his
+complaint.
+
+"Is he in any danger?" asked the poor mother, with deep anxiety.
+
+The doctor shook his head gravely.
+
+"In great danger, I fear."
+
+"Can we remove him without risk?"
+
+"Not without risk, I'm afraid," was the reply; "and yet it may be worse
+for him to be left here.  It is simply a choice of risks.  We had better
+wrap him up well in blankets, and convey him to proper lodgings at
+once."
+
+"Is there any hope?" asked poor Lady Oldfield, with streaming eyes.
+
+"I trust so," was all the doctor dared to say.  Blankets were at once
+procured, and the emaciated body of the patient was borne by strong and
+willing arms to the cab, for there is a wondrous sympathy with those
+suffering from illness even in the breasts of the most hardened and
+godless; while, at the same time, great was the excitement in the little
+court and its neighbourhood.  Lady Oldfield poured out her thanks once
+more to the old woman who had taken compassion on her son, and put into
+the poor creature's hand more money than it had ever grasped at one time
+before.
+
+"Eh! my lady," she exclaimed, in delighted astonishment, "you're very
+good.  I'm sure, never a thought came into my head, when I brought home
+the poor young gentleman, as any one would have come down so handsome.
+I'd have done it all the same if I'd never have got a penny."
+
+"I'm sure of it," replied her ladyship; "but you have done for me what
+money can never repay.  I shall not lose sight of you; but I must not
+stop now.  God bless and reward you;--and oh, give up the drink, the
+wretched drink, which has been my poor boy's ruin, and come for pardon
+and peace to your gracious Saviour."
+
+"Ah!" muttered the old creature, as she turned back to her miserable
+garret, fondly eyeing the golden treasure which she grasped tight with
+her withered fingers; "it's easier said nor done, my lady.  Give up the
+drink?  No, it cannot be.  Come to my gracious Saviour?  Ah!  I used to
+hear words like those when I were a little 'un, but the drink's drowned
+'em out of my heart long since.  I'm too old now.  Give up the drink!
+No; not till the drink gives _me_ up.  It's got me, and it's like to
+keep me.  It's taken all I've had--husband, children, home, money--and
+it'll have all the rest afore it's done.  I must just put this safe by,
+and then I'll go and wet my lips with a quartern o' mountain dew.  It's
+a rare thing, is the drink; it's meat and drink too, and lodging and
+firing and all."
+
+In the meanwhile the cab sped swiftly on its way to the Albion Hotel,
+and from thence to the lodgings, where Sir Thomas was anxiously waiting
+their arrival.  They carried the sufferer up to his bed-room.  What a
+contrast to the miserable, polluted chamber from which Lady Oldfield had
+just rescued him!  Here all was cleanliness and comfort, with abundant
+light and ventilation, and a civil and experienced nurse waited to take
+charge of the unhappy patient.  Having parted with the superintendent
+with many heartfelt expressions of gratitude, Sir Thomas, Lady Oldfield,
+and the doctor proceeded to the sick-room.  Frank lay back on the snow-
+white pillow, pale and motionless, his eyes closed, his lips apart.  Oh!
+was he dead?  Had the shock been too much for his enfeebled body?  Had
+they found him only to lose him at once for ever?  Sir Thomas and his
+wife approached the bed with beating hearts.  No; there was life still;
+the lips moved, and the hectic of the fever returned to the cheeks.
+Then the eyes opened wide, and Frank sprang up into a sitting posture.
+
+"Frank, Frank, don't you know me?" asked Sir Thomas, in a voice of keen
+distress.
+
+"Know you?  No; I never saw you before.  Where's Juniper?  Come here,
+old fellow.  You're a regular trump, and no mistake.  Give us some
+brandy.  That's the right sort of stuff; ain't it, old gentleman?" said
+Frank, glaring at his father, and uttering a wild laugh.
+
+"This is terrible, terrible!" groaned the baronet.  "Doctor, what can we
+do?"
+
+The medical man looked very grave.
+
+"We must keep him as quiet as possible," he replied; "but it's a bad
+case.  He's a bad subject, unhappily, because of his intemperate habits.
+I hope we shall reduce the fever; but what I fear most is the after
+exhaustion."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Lady Oldfield, "if he would only know us--if he would
+only speak rationally--if he would only keep from these dreadful
+ramblings about spirits and drinking!  It breaks my heart to hear him
+speak as he does.  Oh!  I could bear to lose him now, though we have
+just found him, if I could only feel that he was coming back, like the
+poor prodigal, in penitence to his heavenly Father."
+
+"You must calm yourself, madam," said the doctor; "we must hope that it
+will be so.  Remember, he is not responsible for the words he now
+utters; they are only the ravings of delirium."
+
+"Yes; _he_ is not responsible for the words he now utters," cried the
+poor mother--"but oh, misery, misery!  I am responsible.  _I_ held him
+back, _I_ laughed him from his purpose, when he would have pledged
+himself to renounce that drink which has been his bane and ruin, body
+and soul."
+
+"Come, come, my dearest wife," said her husband, "you must be comforted.
+You acted for the best.  We are not responsible for his excess.  He
+never learned excess from us."
+
+"No; but I cannot be comforted, for I see--I know that he might now have
+been otherwise.  Ay, he might now have been as the Oliphants are, if his
+own mother had not put the fatal hindrance in his way.  Oh, if I had
+worlds to give I would give them, could I only undo that miserable
+past!"
+
+"I think," said the medical man, "it will be wiser if all would now
+leave him except the nurse.  The fewer he sees, and the fewer voices he
+hears, the less he will be likely to excite himself.  I will call early
+again to-morrow."
+
+Lady Oldfield retired to her chamber, and poured out her heart in
+prayer.  Oh, might she have but one hour of intelligence--one hour in
+which she might point her erring child to that loving Saviour, whom she
+had herself sought in earnest and found in truth since the departure of
+her son from home!  Oh, might she but see him return to the Gatherer of
+the wandering sheep!  She did not ask life for him--she dared not ask it
+absolutely; but she did ask that her heavenly Father would in pity grant
+her some token that there was hope in her beloved child's death, if he
+must die.  And does not God answer prayer?  Yes, alway; but not always
+in our way.  When sin has found the sinner out--when warnings have been
+slighted, mercies despised, the Spirit quenched, the gentle arm that
+would guide us to glory rudely and perseveringly flung aside--then,
+then, it may be, not even a believing mother's prayer shall avail to
+turn aside the righteous stroke of the hand of that holy God who is to
+his determined enemies a consuming fire.
+
+All the night long did Frank Oldfield toss to and fro, or start up with
+glaring eyes, calling on his drunken associates, singing wild songs, or
+now and then recalling days when sin had not yet set its searing brand
+on his heart and conscience.  About midnight his father and mother stole
+into his chamber.  The nurse put up her finger.  They cautiously shrank
+back behind the screen of the bed-curtains out of his sight.
+
+"Juniper, my boy!" exclaimed the wretched sufferer, "where's my mother?
+Gone down to the rectory!  Ah, they're water-drinkers there.  That don't
+do for you and me, Juniper.  `This bottle's the sun of our table.'  Ha,
+ha!--a capital song that!"
+
+Lady Oldfield sank on her knees, and could not repress her sobs.
+
+"Who's crying?" exclaimed Frank.  "Is it Mary?  Poor Mary!  She loved me
+once--didn't she?  My poor mother loved me once--didn't she?  Why don't
+she love me now?  Where's my mother now?"
+
+"Here I am--here's your mother--your own loving mother--my Frank--my
+darling boy!" burst from the lips of the agonised parent.
+
+She flung herself down on her knees beside the bed.  He stared at her,
+but his ramblings went off the next moment to something else.  Then
+there was a pause, and he sank back.  Lady Oldfield took the opportunity
+to send up a fervent prayer.  He caught the half-whispered words, and
+sat up.  He looked for the moment so collected, so much himself, that
+his mother's lips parted with joyful astonishment, and she gasped,--
+
+"He knows us--his reason is restored!"
+
+The next moment she saw her sad mistake.
+
+"How funny!" cried the poor patient; "there's our old parson praying.
+Poor old parson!--he tried to make me a teetotaller.  It wouldn't do,
+Jacob.  Ah, Jacob, never mind me.  You're a jolly good fellow, but you
+don't understand things.  Give us a song.  What shall it be?  `Three
+jolly potboys drinking at the "Dragon."'  What's amiss?  I'm quite
+well--never was better in my life.  How d'ye do, captain?"
+
+These last words he addressed to his father, who was gazing at him in
+blank misery.
+
+And was it to be always so?  Was he to pass out of the world into
+eternity thus--thrilling the hearts of those who heard him with
+bitterest agony?  No; there came a change.  Another day, the remedies
+had begun to tell on the patient.  The fever gradually left him.  The
+fire had faded from his eye, the hectic from his cheek.  And now father
+and mother, one on either side, bent over him.  Lady Oldfield read from
+the blessed Book the parable of the Prodigal Son.  She thought that
+Frank heard her, for there was on his face a look of mingled surprise,
+pleasure, and bewilderment.  Then no one spoke for a while.  Nothing was
+heard but the ticking of Lady Oldfield's watch, which stood in its case
+on the dressing-table.  Again the poor mother opened the same precious
+Gospel of Saint Luke, and read out calmly and clearly the parable of the
+Pharisee and the Publican.  Then she knelt by the bed and prayed that
+her boy might come with the publican's deep contrition to his God,
+trusting in the merits of his Saviour.  There was a whispered sound from
+those feeble lips.  She could just distinguish the words, "To me a
+sinner."  They were all, but she blessed God for them.  An hour later,
+and the doctor came.  There was no hope in his eye, as he felt the
+pulse.
+
+"What report?" murmured Sir Thomas.  The doctor shook his head.
+
+"Oh, tell me--is he dying?" asked the poor mother.
+
+"He is sinking fast," was the reply.
+
+"Can nothing restore him?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Oh, Frank--darling Frank," appealed his mother, in a whisper of
+agonised entreaty, "let me have one word--one look to tell me you know
+me."
+
+The weary eyes opened, and a faint smile seemed to speak of
+consciousness.
+
+"Hear me--hear me, my beloved child," she said again.  "Christ Jesus
+came into the world to save sinners.  Jesus died for you.  Jesus loves
+you still.  Look to him--believe in him.  He is able to save you even
+now."
+
+Again the eyes slowly opened.  But the dying glaze was over them.  A
+troubled look came across the brow, and then a faint smile.  The lips
+opened, but could frame no words for a while.  Lady Oldfield put her ear
+close to those parted lips.  They spoke now, but only three short words,
+very slowly and feebly, "Jesus--Mother--Mary."  Then all was over.
+
+So died Frank Oldfield.  Was there hope in his death?  Who shall say?
+That heart-broken mother clung, through years of wearing sorrow, to the
+faint hope that flickered in those few last words and in that feeble
+smile.  He smiled when she spoke of Jesus.  Yes; she clung to these as
+the drowning man clings to the handful of water-reeds which he clutches
+in his despair.  But where was the happy evidence of genuine repentance
+and saving faith?  Ah, miserable death-bed!  No bright light shone from
+it.  No glow, caught from a coming glory, rested on those marble
+features.  Yet how beautiful was that youthful form, even though defaced
+by the brand of sin!  How gloriously beautiful it might have been as the
+body of humiliation, hereafter to be fashioned like unto Christ's
+glorious body, had a holy, loving soul dwelt therein in its tabernacle
+days on earth?  Then an early death would have been an early glory, and
+the house of clay, beautiful with God's adornments, would only have been
+taken down in life's morning to be rebuilt on a nobler model in the
+paradise of God.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
+
+"OULD CROW," THE KNIFE-GRINDER.
+
+"Knives to grind!--scissors to grind!--tools to grind!--umbrels to
+mend!"
+
+These words were being uttered in a prolonged nasal tone by an old grey-
+haired man of a rather comical cast of countenance in one of the streets
+in the outskirts of the town of Bolton.  It was about a week after the
+sad death of Frank Oldfield that we come upon him.  Certainly this
+approach to the town could not be said to be prepossessing.  The houses,
+straggling up the side of a hill, were low and sombre, being built of a
+greyish stone, which gave them a dull and haggard appearance.  Stone was
+everywhere, giving a cold, comfortless look to the dwellings.  Stone-
+paved roads, stone curbs, stone pathways--except here and there, where
+coal-dust and clay formed a hard and solid footway, occasionally
+hollowed out by exceptional wear into puddles which looked like gigantic
+inkstands.  High stone slabs also, standing upright, and clamped
+together by huge iron bolts, served instead of palings and hedges, and
+inflicted a melancholy, prison-like look on the whole neighbourhood.
+
+It was up this street that the old knife-grinder was slowly propelling
+his apparatus, which was fitted to two large light wheels.  A very neat
+and comprehensive apparatus it was.  There was the well-poised
+grindstone, with its fly-wheel attached; a very bright oil-can, and pipe
+for dropping water on to the stone; various little nooks and
+compartments for holding tools, rivets, wire, etcetera.  Everything was
+in beautiful order; while a brass plate, on which was engraved the
+owner's name, blazed like gold when there was any sunshine to fall upon
+it.  At present the day was drizzling and chilly, while the huge volumes
+of smoke from a whole forest of factory chimneys tended to impart a
+deeper shade of dismalness to the dispiriting landscape.  The old man
+himself was plainly a character.  No part of his dress seemed as if it
+could ever have been new, and yet all was in such keeping and harmony
+that every article in it appeared to have faded to a like degree of
+decay by a common understanding.  Not that the component parts of this
+dress were such as could well have been contemporaries on their being
+first launched into the world, for the whole of the old man's personal
+outward clothing might almost have been mapped off into divisions--each
+compartment representing a different era, as the zones on a terrestrial
+globe enclose differing races of plants and animals.  Thus, his feet
+were shod with stout leather shoes, moderately clogged, and fastened,
+not by the customary clasps, but by an enormous pair of shoe-buckles of
+a century old at least.  His lower limbs were enclosed in leathern
+garments, which fastened below the knee, leaving visible his grey
+worsted stockings.  An immense waistcoat, the pattern of which was
+constantly being interrupted by the discordant figuring of a large
+variety of patches--inserted upside down, or sideways, or crossways, as
+best suited--hung nearly to his knees; and over this he wore a coat, the
+age and precise cut of which it would have puzzled the most learned in
+such things to decide upon.  It probably had been two coats once, and
+possibly three may have contributed to its formation.  It was clearly
+put together for use and not for ornament--as was testified by its
+extreme length, except in the sleeves, and by the patches of various
+colours, which stood out upon the back and skirts in startling contrast
+to the now almost colourless material of the originals.  On his head the
+old man wore a sort of conical cap of felt, which looked as though it
+had done service more than once on the head of some modern
+representative of Guy Fawkes of infamous memory.  And yet there was
+nothing beggarly about the appearance of the old knife-grinder.  Not a
+rag disfigured his person.  All was whole and neat, though quaint and
+faded.  Altogether, he would have formed an admirable subject for an
+artist's sketch-book; nor could any stranger pass him without being
+struck with pleasure, if he caught a glimpse of his happy face--for
+clearly there was sunshine there; yet not the full, bright sunshine of
+the cloudless summer, but the sunshine that gleams through the storm and
+lights up the rainbow.
+
+"Knives to grind!--scissors to grind!"
+
+The cry went on as the old man toiled along.  But just now no one
+appeared to heed him.  The rain kept pattering down, and he seemed
+inclined to turn out of his path and try another street.  Just then a
+woman's voice shouted out,--
+
+"Ould Crow--Ould Crow!  Here, sithee!  Just grind me these scissors.
+Our Ralph's been scraping the boiler lid with 'em, till they're nearly
+as blunt as a broom handle."
+
+"Ay, missus, I'll give 'em an edge; but you mustn't let your Ralph have
+all his own way, or he'll take the edge off your heart afore so long."
+
+The scissors-grinding proceeded briskly, and soon a troop of dirty
+children were gathered round the wheel, and began to teaze the old man.
+
+"I'll warm thee!" he cried to one of the foremost, half seriously and
+half in joke.
+
+At last the scissors were finished.
+
+"I'll warm thee, Ould Crow!" shouted out the young urchin, in a
+mimicking voice, and running up close to him as he was returning to his
+wheel.
+
+The long arm of the knife-grinder darted forward, and his hand grasped
+the lad, who struggled hard to get away; and at last, by a desperate
+effort, freed himself, but, in so doing, caused the old man to lose his
+balance.  It was in vain that he strove to recover himself.  The stones
+were slippery with the wet: he staggered a step or two, and then fell
+heavily forward on his face.  Another moment, and he felt a strong arm
+raising him up.
+
+"Are you much hurt, old friend?" asked his helper, who was none other
+than Jacob Poole.
+
+"I don't know--the Lord help me!--I'm afeerd so," replied Old Crow,
+seating himself on the kerb stone with a groan.
+
+"Those young rascals!" cried Jacob.  "I'd just like to give 'em such a
+hiding as they've ne'er had in all their lives afore."
+
+"Nay, nay, friend," said the other; "it wasn't altogether the lad's
+fault.  But they're a rough lot, for sure; not much respect for an old
+man.  Most on 'em's mayster o' their fathers and mothers afore they can
+well speak plain.  Thank ye kindly for your help; the Lord'll reward
+ye."
+
+"You're welcome, old gentleman," said Jacob.  "Can I do anything more
+for you?"
+
+"Just lend me your arm for a moment; there's a good lad.  I shall have
+hard work, I fear, to take myself home, let alone the cart."
+
+"Never trouble about that," said Jacob, cheerily.  "I'll wheel your cart
+home, if you can walk on slowly and show me the road."
+
+"Bless you, lad; that'll be gradely help--`a friend in need's a friend
+indeed.'  If you'll stick to the handles, I'll make shift to hobble on
+by your side.  I'm better now."
+
+They turned down a by-street; and after a slow walk of about a quarter
+of a mile--for the old man was still in considerable pain, and was much
+shaken--they arrived at a low but not untidy-looking cottage, with a
+little outbuilding by its side.
+
+"Here we are," said the knife-grinder.  "Now come in, my lad.  You shall
+have your tea, and we'll have a chat together arterwards."
+
+Old Crow pulled a key out of his pocket, and opened the house door.  The
+fire was burning all right, and was soon made to burst into a cheerful
+blaze.  Then the old man hobbled round to the shed, and unbolting it
+from the inside, bade Jacob wheel in the cart.  This done, they returned
+into the kitchen.
+
+"Sit ye down, my lad," said the knife-grinder.  "Deborah'll be back
+directly; the mills is just loosed."
+
+"Is Deborah your daughter?" asked Jacob.
+
+The old man shook his head sorrowfully.
+
+"No; I've never a one belonging me now."
+
+"That's much same with myself," said Jacob.  "I've none as belongs me;
+leastways I cannot find 'em."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed the other.  "Well, we'll talk more about that just
+now.  Deborah, ye see, is widow Cartwright's wench; and a good wench she
+is too, as e'er clapped clog on a foot.  She comes in each morn, and
+sees as fire's all right, and fills kettle for my breakfast.  Then at
+noon she comes in again to see as all's right.  And after mill's loosed,
+she just looks in and sets all straight.  And then, afore she goes to
+bed, she comes in, and stretches all up gradely."
+
+"And are you quite alone now?"
+
+"Quite.  But I've a better Friend as never leaves me nor forsakes me--
+the Lord Jesus Christ.  I hope, my lad, you know summat about him."
+
+"Yes; thank the Lord, I do," replied Jacob.  "I learned to love him when
+I was far away in Australia."
+
+"In Australia!" cried the old man.  "Deborah'll be glad to hear what you
+have to say about Australia, for she's a brother there.  And how long
+have you been come back from yon foreign land?"
+
+"Not so very long; but I almost wish as I'd never been."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"'Cos I shouldn't have knowed one as has caused me heavy sorrow."
+
+Poor Jacob hid his face in his hands, and, spite of himself; the tears
+_would_ ooze out and trickle through his fingers.
+
+"Come, my lad," said his new friend, compassionately; "you mustn't fret
+so.  You say you love the Lord; well, he will not leave you
+comfortless."
+
+"It's the drink, the cursed drink, as done it," said the other, half to
+himself.
+
+"Well, my lad; and if you _have_ been led astray, and are gradely sorry
+for it, there's room in the Lord's heart for you still."
+
+"Nay, it isn't that.  I'm a total abstainer to the back-bone, and have
+been for years."
+
+"The Lord be praised!" cried Old Crow, rising from his seat, and
+grasping the hand of his companion with all his might.  "I shall love
+you twice over now.  I'm an old teetotaller myself; and have been these
+many years.  Come, you tell me your tale; and when we've had our tea,
+I'll tell you mine."
+
+Jacob then told his story, from his first encountering Captain
+Merryweather at Liverpool, till the time when he lost sight of his young
+master.
+
+"And now, old friend," he concluded, "I'm just like a ship afloat as
+don't know which way to steer.  I'm fair weary of the sea, an' I don't
+know what to turn myself to on land."
+
+"Perhaps we may set that right," replied the old man.  "But here's
+Deborah; so we'll just get our tea."
+
+The kitchen in which they were seated was a low but comfortable
+apartment.  There was nothing much in the way of furniture there, but
+everything was clean and tidy; while the neat little window-curtain, the
+well-stuffed cushion in the old man's rocking-chair, and the broad warm
+rug on the hearth, made of countless slips of cloth of various colours
+dexterously sewn together, showed that loving female hands had been
+caring for the knife-grinder's comfort.  Deborah was a bright, cheery-
+looking factory-girl, who evidently loved the old man, and worked for
+him with a will.  The tea was soon set out, Deborah joining them by Old
+Crow's invitation.  Jacob had much to tell about Australia which deeply
+interested both his hearers, especially Deborah.  When the tea-things
+were removed, and Old Crow and Jacob were left alone, the former said,--
+
+"Come; friend Jacob, draw thy chair to the fire.  Thou hast given me thy
+tale, and a sad one it is; now thou shalt hear mine."
+
+They drew closer up on to the hearth, and the old man proceeded with his
+story.
+
+"I were born and reared in a village many miles from Bolton; it makes no
+odds where it were, my tale will be all the same.  My fayther and mother
+were godly people, and taught me to love the Lord by precept and example
+too.  I worked in the pit till I were about twenty; when one day, as my
+butty and me was getting coal a long way off from the shaft, the prop
+nearest me began to crack, and I knowed as the roof were falling in.  I
+sung out to him, but it were too late.  I'd just time to save myself,
+when down came a big stone a-top of him, poor lad.  I shouted for help,
+and we worked away with our picks like mad; and by the help of crows we
+managed to heave off the stone.  The poor young man were sadly crushed.
+We carried him home as softly as we could; but he were groaning awful
+all the way.  He were a ghastly sight to look on as he lay on his bed;
+and I'd little hope for him, for he'd been a heavy drinker.  I'd talked
+to him scores of times about it, but he never heeded.  He used to say--
+`Well, you're called a sober man, and I'm called a drunkard; but what's
+the difference?  You takes what you like, and I takes what I like.  You
+takes what does you good, and I takes what does me good.'  `No,' says I,
+`you takes what does you harm.'  `Ah, but,' says he, `who's to say just
+where good ends and harm begins?  Tom Roades takes a quart more nor me,
+and yet he's called to be a sober man; I suppose 'cos he don't fuddle so
+soon.'  Well, but to come back to my poor butty's misfortune.  There he
+lay almost crushed out of all shape, with lots of broken bones.  They
+sends for the doctor, and he says-- `You must keep him quiet.  Nurse him
+well; and whatever ye do, don't let him touch a drop of beer or spirits
+till I give ye leave.'  Well--would ye believe it?--no sooner were
+doctor's back turned than they pours some rum down the poor lad's
+throat, sure as it'd do him good.  And so they went on; and the end on
+it was, they finished him off in a few days, for the poor fellow died
+mad drunk.  Arter that I couldna somehow take to the pit again, and I
+couldn't have anything more to do with the drink.  I said to myself; `No
+one shall take encouragement to drink from _you_ any more.'  So I joined
+a Temperance Society, and signed the pledge.  I'd saved a little money,
+and looked about for summat to do.  I hadn't larning enough to go into
+an office as a writer; and I wouldn't have gone if I had, for I should
+have wasted to skin and bone if I'd sat up all the day on a high stool,
+scrat, scratting with a pen, and my nose almost growing to the papper.
+So I bethowt me as I'd larn to be a knife-grinder.  It'd just suit me.
+I could wander about from place to place, and have plenty of fresh air,
+and my liberty too.  So I paid a chap to teach me the trade, and set
+myself up with my cart and all complete.  But after a bit, my fayther
+and mother died; and I felt there were one thing as I were short on, and
+that were a wife.  My brothers and sisters had all gotten married; so I
+wanted a home.  But I wasn't going to take up with any sort; I meant to
+get a real good wife, or I'd have none at all.  Well, I found one just
+the right make for me--a tidy, loving Christian she were.  I loved my
+home, and were seldom off more nor two or three days at a time, when I
+took my cart a little further nor usual.  We never had but one child;
+and she were a girl, and as likely a wench as were to be found in all
+the country round.  She were a good daughter to me, Jacob, for many a
+long year; for her mother died when she were but ten year old, and I
+didn't wed again.  Poor Rachel! she were no ordinary wench, you may be
+sure.  She were quite a little woman afore she were as high as my
+waistcoat.  All the neighbours used to say, `He'll get a good wife as
+gets your Rachel;' and I used to say, `Well, I don't want her to leave
+me, but I'll ne'er say No if she keeps company with a fellow as loves
+his Bible and hates the drink.'  Well, there were an old widow in our
+village as made a great profession of religion.  She were always at
+chapel and meeting, and as full of pious talk as an egg's full of meat.
+Our Rachel thought her almost too good for this sinful world; but
+somehow I couldn't take to her myself.  I feared she were not the right
+side out.  I had many a talk with Ruth Canters--for that were her name.
+She were always a-sighing o'er the wickedness of the neighbours, and
+wishing she knew where she could find a young woman as'd suit her son
+for a wife.  I didn't like her looks always, and I thought as there were
+a smell of spirits sometimes, as didn't suit me at all.  But she were
+ever clean and tidy, and I never see'd any drink in the house.  There
+were always the Bible or some other good book at hand, and I couldn't
+prove as all were not right.  Howsever, her Jim took a fancy to our
+Rachel, and she to him.  So they kept company, and were married: and the
+widow came to live with us, for Rachel wouldn't hear of leaving me.  Jim
+were a good young man, honest and true, and a gradely Christian.  But
+now our Rachel began to suspect as summat was wrong.  I were often away
+with my cart for three or four days together; and when I were at home I
+didn't take so much notice of things, except it always seemed to me as
+widow Canter's religion tasted more of vinegar nor sugar--there were
+plenty of fault-finding and very little love.  Says I to Rachel one day,
+when we was by ourselves, `Thy mother-in-law's religion has more of the
+"drive" nor the "draw" in't.'  The poor thing sighed.  I saw there were
+summat wrong; but I didn't find it out then."
+
+"Ah," interrupted Jacob, "it were the drink, of course.  That's at the
+bottom of almost all the crime and wickedness."
+
+"You're right, my lad," continued the other, with a deep sigh.  "Ruth
+Canters drank, but it were very slily--so slily that her own son Jim
+wouldn't believe it at first; but he were obliged to at last.  Oh, what
+a cheating thing is the drink!  She were never so pious in her talk as
+when she'd been having a little too much; and nothing would convince her
+but that she were safe for heaven.  But I mustn't go grinding on, or I
+shall grind all your patience away.  Rachel had a little babe--a bonny
+little wench.  Oh, how she loved it--how we both loved it!  Poor
+Rachel!"
+
+The old man paused to wipe away his tears.
+
+"Well, it were about six months old, when Rachel had to go off for some
+hours to see an aunt as were sick.  She wouldn't take the babe with her,
+'cos there were a fever in the court where her aunt lived, and she were
+feart on it for the child.  Old Ruth promised to mind the babe gradely;
+and our Rachel got back as quick as she could, but it were later nor she
+intended.  Jim were not coming home till late, and I were off myself for
+a day or two.  When our Rachel came to the house door, she tried to open
+it, but couldn't; it were fast somehow.  She knocked, but no one
+answered.  Again she tried the door; it were not locked, but summat
+heavy lay agen it.  She pushed hard, and got it a bit open.  She just
+saw summat as looked like a woman's dress.  Then she shrieked out, and
+fell down in a faint.  The neighbours came running up.  They went in by
+the wash-house door, and found Ruth Canters lying dead agen the house
+door inside, and the baby smothered under her.  Both on 'em were stone
+dead.  She'd taken advantage of our Rachel being off to drink more nor
+usual, and she'd missed her footing with the baby in her arms, and
+fallen down the stairs right across the house door.  Our Rachel never
+looked up arter that; she died of a broken heart.  And Jim couldn't bear
+to tarry in the neighbourhood; nor I neither.  Ah, the misery, the
+misery as springs from the cursed drink!  Thank the Lord, Jacob, over
+and over again a thousand times, as he's given you grace to be a total
+abstainer."
+
+There was a long pause, during which the old man wept silent but not
+bitter tears.
+
+"Them as is gone is safe in glory," he said at last; "our Rachel and her
+babe, I mean; and I've done fretting now.  I shall go to them; but they
+will not return to me.  And now, Jacob, my lad, what do ye say to
+learning my trade, and taking shares with me?  I shan't be good for much
+again this many a day, and I've taken a fancy to you.  You've done me a
+good turn, and I know you're gradely.  I'm not a queer chap, though I
+looks like one.  My clothes is only a whim of mine.  They've been in the
+family so long, that I cannot part with 'em.  They'll serve out _my_
+time, though we've patched and patched the old coat till there's scarce
+a yard of the old stuff left in him, and he looks for all the world like
+a _map_ of England, with the different counties marked on it."
+
+"Well, Mayster Crow," began Jacob in reply; but the other stopped him by
+putting up his hand.
+
+"Eh, lad, you mustn't call me _Mayster_ Crow; leastwise, if you do afore
+other folks, they'll scream all the wits out of you with laughing.  I'm
+`Old Crow' now, and nothing else.  My real name's Jenkins; but if you or
+any one else were to ask for Isaac Jenkins, there's not a soul in these
+parts as'd know as such a man ever lived.  No; they call me `Old Crow.'
+Maybe 'cos I look summat like a scarecrow.  But I cannot rightly tell.
+It's my name, howsever, and you must call me nothing else."
+
+"Well, then, Old Crow," said Jacob, "I cannot tell just what I'm going
+to do.  You see I've no friends, and yet I should have some if I could
+only find 'em."
+
+"Have you neither fayther nor mother living then?" asked the old man.
+
+"I cannot say.  My mother's dead.  As for the rest--well, it's just this
+way, Old Crow, I'm a close sort o' chap, and always were.  I left home a
+fugitive and a vagabond, and I resolved as I'd ne'er come back till I
+could come as my own mayster, and that I'd ne'er tell anything about my
+own home and them as belonged me, till I could settle where I pleased in
+a home of my own.  But I learnt at the diggings as it were not right to
+run off as I did, for the Lord sent us a faithful preacher, and he
+showed me my duty; and I came back with my mind made up to tell them as
+owned me how God had dealt with me and changed my heart.  But I couldn't
+find nor hear anything about 'em at the old place.  They'd flitted, and
+nobody could tell me where.  So I'd rayther say no more about 'em till
+I've tried a bit longer to find 'em out.  And if I cannot light on 'em
+arter all, why then, I'll start again, as if the past had never been,
+for it were but a dark and dismal past to me."
+
+Old Crow did not press Jacob with further questions, as he was evidently
+not disposed to be communicative on the subject of his early history,
+but he said,--
+
+"Well, and suppose you take to the grinding; you can drive the cart
+afore ye, from town to town, and from village to village, as I've done
+myself scores and scores of times, and maybe you'll light on them as
+you're seeking.  It's strange how many an old face, as I'd never thought
+to see no more, has turned up as I've jogged along from one place to
+another."
+
+"Ah," exclaimed Jacob, "I think as that'd just suit me!  I never thought
+of that.  I'll take your offer then, Old Crow, and many thanks to ye,
+and I hope you'll not find me a bad partner."
+
+So it was arranged as the old man suggested, and Jacob forthwith began
+to learn his new trade.
+
+It was some weeks before he had become at all proficient in the knife-
+grinding and umbrella-mending arts; and many a sly laugh and joke on the
+part of Deborah made him at times half-inclined to give up the work; but
+there was a determination and dogged resolution about his character
+which did not let him lightly abandon anything he had once undertaken.
+So he persevered, much to Old Crow's satisfaction, for he soon began to
+love Jacob as a son, and the other was drawn to the old man as to a
+father.  After a while Jacob's education in his new art was pronounced
+complete, not only by the old knife-grinder himself but even by Deborah,
+critical Deborah, who declared that his progress was astonishing.
+
+"Why," she said, addressing Old Crow, "when he first took to it, nothing
+would serve him but he must have mother's old scissors to point; and he
+grund and grund till the two points turned their backs t'one on t'other,
+and looked different ways, as if they was weary of keeping company any
+longer.  And when he sharped yon old carving-knife of grandfather's, you
+couldn't tell arter he'd done which side were the back and which side
+were the edge.  But he's a rare good hand at it now."
+
+And, to tell the truth, Deborah greatly prized a new pair of scissors, a
+present from Jacob, with the keenest of edges, the result of his first
+thoroughly successful grinding; indeed, it was pretty clear that the
+young knife-grinder was by no means an object of indifference to her.
+The public proclaiming of his vocation in the open streets was the most
+trying thing to Jacob.  The very prospect of it almost made him give up.
+Deborah was very merry at his expense, and told him, that "if he were
+ashamed, she wouldn't mind walking in front of the cart, the first day,
+and doing all the shouting for him."  This difficulty, however, was got
+over by the old man himself going with Jacob on his first few journeys,
+and introducing him to his customers; after which he was able to take to
+his new calling without much trouble.  But it was quite plain that Old
+Crow himself was too much injured by his fall to be able to resume the
+knife-grinding for many months to come, even if indeed, he were ever
+able to take to it again.  But this did not distress him, for he had
+learned to trace God's hand, as the hand of a loving Father, in
+everything.  Though old and grey-headed, he was hearty and cheerful, for
+his old age was like a healthy winter, "kindly, though frosty;" for "he
+never did apply hot and rebellious liquors to his blood."  Spite of his
+accident, these were happy days for him, for he had found in Jacob Poole
+one thoroughly like-minded.  Oh, the blessings of a home, however
+humble, where Christ is loved, and the drink finds no entrance; for in
+such a home there are seen no forced spirits, no unnatural excitements!
+It was a touching sight when the quaint old man, having finished his
+tea, would bring his rocking-chair nearer to the fire, and bidding Jacob
+draw up closer on the other side, would tell of God's goodness to him in
+times past, and of his hopes of a better and brighter home on the other
+side of the dark river.  Deborah would often make a third, and her
+mother would join them too at times, and then Jacob would tell of the
+wonders of the deep, and of the distant colony where he had sojourned.
+Then the old man would lay aside the tall cap which he wore even in the
+house, displaying his scattered white hairs, and would open his big
+Bible with a smile,--
+
+"I always smile when I open the Bible," he said one day to Jacob, "'cos
+it's like a loving letter from a far-off land.  I'm not afraid of
+looking into't; for, though I light on some awful verses every now and
+then, I know as they're not for me.  I'm not boasting.  It's all of
+grace; but still it's true `there is therefore now no condemnation to
+them that are in Christ Jesus,' and I know that through his mercy I am
+gradely in him."
+
+Then they would sing a hymn, for all had the Lancashire gift of good ear
+and voice, after which the old man would sink on his knees and pour out
+his heart in prayer.  Yes, that cottage was indeed a happy home, often
+the very threshold of heaven; and many a time the half-drunken collier,
+as he sauntered by, would change the sneer that curled his lip at those
+strains of heartfelt praise, into the tear that melted out of a smitten
+and sorrowful heart, a heart that knew something of its own bitterness,
+for it smote him as he thought of a God despised, a soul perishing, a
+Bible neglected, a Saviour trampled on, and an earthly home out of which
+the drink had flooded every real comfort, and from which he could have
+no well-grounded hope of a passage to a better.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
+
+FOUND.
+
+Four years had passed away since Jacob Poole raised the old knife-
+grinder from his fall in the street in Bolton.  All that time he had
+made his abode with the old man, traversing the streets of many a town
+and village far and near, and ever returning with gladness to his new
+home.  His aged friend had never so far recovered from his accident as
+to be able to resume his work.  He would occasionally go out with Jacob,
+and help him in some odd jobs, but never again took to wheeling out the
+machine himself.  He was brighter, however, than in even more prosperous
+days, and had come to look upon Jacob as his adopted son.  It was
+understood, also, that Deborah would ere long become the wife of the
+young knife-grinder.  There was one employment in which the old man
+delighted, and that was the advocating and forwarding, in every way in
+his power, the cause of Christian total abstinence.  For this purpose he
+would carry suitable tracts with him wherever he went, and would often
+pause in fine weather, when he accompanied Jacob Poole on his less
+distant expeditions; and, sitting on a step or bank, as the case might
+be, while the wheel was going round, would gather about him old and
+young, and give them a true temperance harangue.  Sometimes he met with
+scoffs and hard words, but he cared little for them; he had his answer
+ready, or, like his Master, when reviled he opened not his mouth.  Some
+one called him "a canting old hypocrite."
+
+"Nay, friend," he replied, "you're mistaken there.  I'm not a hypocrite.
+A hypocrite's a man with two faces.  Now, you can't say you have ever
+seen me with two faces.  I've seen many a drunkard with two faces--t'one
+as makes the wife and childer glad, and t'other as makes their hearts
+ache and jump into their mouths with fear.  But you've ne'er seen that
+in a gradely abstainer."
+
+"You're a self-righteous old sinner," said another.
+
+"I'm a sinner, I know," was Old Crow's reply; "but I'm not self-
+righteous, I hope.  I don't despise a poor drunkard; but I cannot
+respect him.  I want to pull him out of the mire, and place him where he
+can respect hisself."
+
+But generally he had ready and attentive listeners, and was the means of
+winning many to the good way; for all who really knew him respected him
+for his consistency.  And Jacob was happy with him, and yet to him there
+was one thing still wanting.  He had never in all his wanderings been
+able to discover the least trace of those whom he was seeking, and the
+desire to learn something certain about them increased day by day.  At
+last, one fine July evening, he said to his old companion,--
+
+"Ould Crow, I can't be content as I am.  I must try my luck further off.
+If you've nothing to say against it, I'll just take the cart with me
+for a month or six weeks, and see if the Lord'll give me success.  I'll
+go right away into Shropshire, and try round there; and through
+Staffordshire and Derbyshire."
+
+"Well, my son," was the reply, "you'll just do what you know to be
+right.  I won't say a word against it."
+
+"And if," added Jacob, "I can't find them as I'm seeking, nor hear
+anything gradely about 'em, I'll just come back and settle me down
+content."
+
+"The Lord go with you," said the old man; "you'll not forget me nor poor
+Deborah."
+
+"I cannot," replied Jacob; "my heart'll be with you all the time."
+
+"And how shall we know how you're coming on?"
+
+"Oh, I'll send you a letter if I ain't back by the six week end."
+
+So the next morning Jacob started on his distant journey.  Many were the
+roads he traversed, and many the towns and villages he visited, as he
+slowly made his way through Cheshire into Shropshire; and many were the
+disappointments he met with, when he thought he had obtained some clue
+to guide him in his search.
+
+Three weeks had gone by, when one lovely evening in the early part of
+August he was pushing the cart before him, wearied with his day's work
+and journey, along the high-road leading to a small village in
+Shropshire.  The turnpike-road itself ran through the middle of the
+village.  On a dingy board on the side of the first house as he entered,
+he read the word "Fairmow."
+
+"Knives to grind!--scissors to grind!--umbrels to mend!" he cried
+wearily and mechanically; but no one seemed to need his services.  Soon
+he passed by the public-house--there was clearly no lack of custom
+there, and yet the sounds that proceeded from it were certainly not
+those of drunken mirth.  He looked up at the sign.  No ferocious lion
+red or black, urged into a rearing posture by unnatural stimulants, was
+there; nor griffin or dragon, white or green, symbolising the savage
+tempers kindled by intoxicating drinks; but merely the simple words,
+"Temperance Inn."  Not a letter was there any where about the place to
+intimate the sale of wine, beer, or spirits.
+
+Waggons were there, for it was harvest-time, and men young and old were
+gathered about the door, some quenching their thirst by moderate
+draughts of beverages which slaked without rekindling it; others taking
+in solid food with a hearty relish.  A pleasant sight it was to Jacob;
+but he would not pause now, as he wished to push on to the next town
+before night.  So he urged his cart before him along the level road,
+till he came to a turn on the left hand off the main street.  Here a
+lovely little peep burst upon him.  Just a few hundred yards down the
+turn was a cottage, with a neat green paling before it.  The roof was
+newly thatched, and up the sides grew the rose and jessamine, which
+mingled their flowers in profusion as they clustered over a snug little
+latticed porch.  The cottage itself was in the old-fashioned black-
+timbered style, with one larger and one smaller pointed gable.  There
+was a lovely little garden in front, the very picture of neatness, and
+filled with those homely flowers whose forms, colours, and odours are so
+sweet because so familiar.  Beyond the cottage there were no other
+houses; but the road sloped down to a brook, crossed by a little rustic
+bridge on the side of the hedge furthest from the cottage.  Beyond the
+brook the road rose again, and wound among thick hedges and tall stately
+trees; while to the left was an extensive park, gradually rising till,
+at the distance of little more than a mile, a noble mansion of white
+stone shone out brightly from its setting of dark green woods, over
+which was just visible the waving outline of a dim, shadowy hill.  Jacob
+looked up the road, and gazed on the lovely picture with deep
+admiration.  He could see the deer in the park, and the glorious
+sunlight just flashing out in a blaze of gold from the windows of the
+mansion.  He sighed as he gazed, though not in discontent; but he was
+foot-sore and heart-weary, and he longed for rest.  He thought he would
+just take his cart as far as the cottage, more from a desire of having a
+closer view of it than from much expectation of finding a customer.  As
+he went along he uttered the old cry,--
+
+"Knives to grind--scissors to grind."
+
+The words attracted the notice of a young man, who came out of the
+cottage carrying a little child in his arms.
+
+"I'll thank you to grind a point to this knife," he said, "and to put a
+fresh rivet in, if you can; for our Samuel's took it out of his mother's
+drawer when she was out, and he's done it no good, as you may see."
+
+Jacob put out his hand for the knife, but started back when he saw it as
+if it had been a serpent.  Then he seized it eagerly, and looked with
+staring eyes at the handle.  There were scratched rudely on it the
+letters SJ.
+
+"Where, where did you get this?" he cried, turning first deadly pale,
+and then very red again.  The young man looked at him in amazement.
+"Who, who are you?" stammered Jacob again.
+
+"Who am I?" said the other; "why, my name's John Walters.  I am afraid
+you're not quite sober, my friend."
+
+But just then a young woman came out from the cottage, leading by the
+hand a boy about five years old.  She looked round first at her husband
+and then at the knife-grinder with a perplexed and startled gaze.  The
+next moment, with a cry of "Betty!"  "Sammul!" brother and sister were
+locked in each other's arms,--it was even so--the lost were found at
+last.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
+
+MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS.
+
+"Father, father!" cried Betty, rushing into the house, "come hither;
+here's our Sammul come back."
+
+"Eh!  What do ye say?  Our Sammul come back?" exclaimed a well-known
+voice, and Johnson hurried out and clasped his son to his heart.  "Eh!
+the Lord be praised for this," he cried, with streaming eyes.  "I've
+prayed, and prayed for it, till I thought it were past praying for; but
+come in and sit ye down, and let me look at you."
+
+Samuel was soon seated, with the whole household gathered round him.
+
+"It _is_ his own self, for sure," said Betty.  "O Sammul, I never
+thought to see you no more."
+
+"I should scarce have knowed you, had I met you on the road," said his
+father, "you're so much altered."
+
+"Ay," said his sister; "he's gotten a beard to his face, and he's taller
+and browner like, but his eye's the same--he's our Sammul, sure enough.
+You'll not be for flitting again for a-while," she said, looking at him
+half playfully and half in earnest.
+
+"No," he replied; "I've had flitting enough for a bit.  But eh, Betty,
+you've growed yourself into a gradely woman.  And this is your husband,
+I reckon, and these are your childer; have you any more?"
+
+"No," said John Walters; "these two are all.  Well, you're heartily
+welcome, Samuel.  I'm glad to see you.  Betty'll leave fretting now."
+
+"Ay, and fayther too," cried Betty.  "O Sammul, I am _so_ glad to see
+you.  I've prayed, and fayther's prayed too, scores of times; and he's
+had more faith nor me--though we've both begun to lose heart--but we've
+never forgot ye, Sammul.  Oh, I shall be happy now.  The Lord's too good
+to me," she said, with deep emotion; "as the blessed Book says, `My cup
+runneth over'--ay, it do for sure--I've got the best husband as ever
+woman had, (you needn't be frowning, John, it's true); and I've got
+fayther, and they're both total abstainers, and gradely Christians too,
+and now I've got our Sammul."
+
+"And he's a total abstainer," said Samuel, "and, he humbly hopes, a
+gradely Christian."
+
+"Oh, that's best, that's best of all," cried his sister, again throwing
+her arms around him.  "Oh, Sammul, I _am_ so glad to see you--you can't
+wonder, for you're all the brothers I have, and I'm all the sisters
+_you_ have; you can't wonder at it, John."
+
+"I'm not wondering at anything but the Lord's goodness," said her
+husband, in a husky voice, and wiping his eyes.
+
+"Here, Sammul," exclaimed Betty to her eldest child, "get on your Uncle
+Sammul's knee, and hug him with all your might.  Eh!  I didn't think
+this morn as I should have to tell you to say `Uncle Sammul.'  He's
+called arter yourself.  If you hadn't been off, he'd a been John or
+Thomas, maybe.  But our John knowed how I longed to have him called
+Sammul, so we've called the babe John Thomas, arter the fayther and
+grandfayther.  And now you'll want your tea, and then we must all have a
+gradely talk when childers in bed."
+
+Oh, what a happy tea that was!  The cart was drawn into a shed, and
+Samuel sat gazing through the door, hardly able to eat or drink for
+happiness.  What a peaceful picture it was!  Betty was bustling in and
+out of the room, radiant with delight, sometimes laughing and sometimes
+crying, tumbling over the children, misplacing the tea-things, putting
+the kettle on the fire without any water in it, and declaring that,
+"she'd lost her head, and were good for nothing," all which delighted
+her husband amazingly, who picked up the children by turns, and
+corrected his wife's mistakes by making others himself; while Thomas
+Johnson sat in a corner smiling quietly to himself, and looking with
+brimming eyes at his son, as being quite satisfied for the time without
+asking questions.  Samuel leaned back in his seat, as one who has
+accomplished the labour of a life, and would rest a while.  The house
+door stood ajar, and he could see the roses and jessamine straggling in
+through the porch, the sunny road, the noble trees on its farther side,
+while a herd of cattle slowly made their way towards the brook.  Every
+now and then, when the back door opened, (as it did many a time more
+than was necessary, for Betty often went out and returned without
+remembering what she had gone for), he could see the neat, well-stocked
+garden, with its hives of bees against the farthest wall, and its
+thriving store of apple and plum trees, besides all sorts of useful
+vegetables.  He looked round the room, and saw at a glance that
+neatness, cleanliness, and order reigned there.  He looked at a small
+side-table, and marked among its little pile of books more than one copy
+of the Word of Life, which told him that the brighter world was not kept
+out of sight; he could also gather from the appearance of the furniture
+and articles of comfort that surrounded him, that his beloved sister's
+lot was in earthly things a prosperous one.  As they drew their chairs
+to the tea-table, which was at last furnished and arranged to Betty's
+complete satisfaction, and John had reverently asked a blessing, Samuel
+said,--
+
+"Fayther, you're looking better than ever I saw you in my life."
+
+"Yes, I don't doubt, my lad, you never seed me in my right mind afore; I
+were a slave to the drink then.  I'd neither health of body nor peace of
+mind--now, thank the Lord for it, I enjoy both."
+
+"Have you heard, Sammul?" asked Betty,--she tried to finish her sentence
+but could not, and the tears kept dropping on to her hands, as she bowed
+down her head in the vain endeavour to conceal them.
+
+"She's thinking of her poor mother," said John in a soothing tone.
+
+"Yes; I've heard about it," replied her brother sadly.  There was a long
+pause, and then Samuel asked, "Did you know as I'd been back to
+Langhurst?"
+
+"No," replied his father; "we heard as a stranger had been asking about
+me and mine, but nobody knowed who it was."
+
+"We never got no letter from you, Sammul," said his sister; "there was a
+man as would have seen as we got it, if any letter had come for us arter
+we flitted."
+
+"I never wrote; but I ought to have done; it were not right," replied
+Samuel; "and when I see'd it were my duty, it were too late for writing,
+for I were coming home myself."
+
+"Weel," said Betty, "we have all on us much to ask, and much to tell;
+but just you finish your tea, and I'll put the childer to bed; and then
+you and John can take a turn round the garden, if you've a mind, while I
+clear the table and tidy up a bit."
+
+And now, by common consent, when Betty had made all things straight, the
+whole party adjourned to the garden, and brought their chairs under an
+old cherry-tree, from which they could see the distant mansion with its
+embowering woods, and the sloping park in front.  Samuel sat with his
+father on one side and Betty on the other, one hand in the hand of each.
+John was on the other side of his wife holding her other hand.
+
+"You know, John," she said with a smile, "I only gave you the one hand
+when we were wed, so our Sammul's a right to t'other.  And now, tell us
+all, Sammul dear, from the very first.  You needn't be afraid of
+speaking out afore our John; he knows all as we know, and you must take
+him for your brother."
+
+"I'll do so as you say, Betty; and when I've told you all, there'll be
+many things as I shall have to ax you myself.  Well, then, you remember
+the night as I went off?"
+
+"I shall ne'er forget it as long as I live," said his sister.
+
+"Well," continued Samuel, "I hadn't made up my mind just what to do, but
+I were resolved as I wouldn't bide at home any longer, so I hurried
+along the road till I came to the old pit-shaft.  I were just a-going to
+pass it by, when I bethought me as I'd like to take a bit of holly with
+me as a keepsake.  So I climbed up the bank, where there were a fine
+bush, and took out my knife and tried to cut a bit; but the bough were
+tough, and I were afraid of somebody coming and finding me, so I cut
+rather random, for my knife were not so sharp, and I couldn't get the
+branch off at first, and as the bank were rather steep, I slipped about
+a good deal, and nearly tumbled back.  Just then I heard somebody a-
+coming, and I felt almost sure it were fayther; so I gave one great pull
+with my knife, the branch came in two all of a suddent, and the knife
+slipped, and gave my left hand a great gash.  I kept it, however, in my
+hand, but I slipped in getting back into the road, and dropped it.  I
+durstn't stop long, for the man, whoever he were, came nearer and
+nearer, so I just looked about for a moment or two, and then I set off
+and ran for my life, and never saw my poor knife again till your John
+gave it me to sharpen an hour since."
+
+"Eh, Sammul," cried Betty, with a great sigh of relief, "you little
+thought what a stab your knife'd give your poor sister.  I went out,
+same night as you went off, to seek you, and coming home from Aunt
+Jenny's I seed a summat shining on the road near the old pit-shaft, for
+moon were up then; it were this knife o' yourn.  I picked it up, and oh,
+Sammul, there were blood on it, and I saw the bank were trampled, and
+oh, I didn't know what to make on it.  I feart ye'd been and kilt
+yourself.  I feart it at first, but I didn't arter a bit, when I'd time
+to bethink me a little.  But I've kept the knife ever since; you shall
+have it back now, and you mustn't charge us anything for grinding it."
+
+"Poor Betty!" said her brother, "I little thought what sorrow my knife
+would bring you."
+
+"Well, go on, it's all right now."
+
+"When I'd run a good way," continued Samuel, "I began to think a bit
+what I should do with myself.  One thing I were resolved on--I'd make a
+fresh start--I'd forget as I'd ever had a home--I'd change my name, and
+be my own mayster.  It were not right--I see it now--I were misguided--
+it were not right to my poor Betty, my loving sister--it were selfish to
+leave her to bear all the trouble by herself, and it were not right by
+you, fayther, nor by poor dear mother.  I should have borne my trials
+with patience, and the Lord would have made a road through 'em; but I've
+prayed to be forgiven, and, bless the Lord, he's brought good out of
+evil.  Arter a while, I thought as I'd walk to Liverpool, and see if I
+couldn't work my passage to America or Australia.  I didn't wish any one
+to know where I was gone, so I never wrote.  I wished to be as dead to
+all as had gone before.  It were the third day arter I left Langhurst
+that I got to Liverpool.  I were very foot-sore, and almost famished to
+death, for I hadn't had a gradely meal since I left home.  I were
+standing near a public, feeling very low and done, when some sailor
+chaps as was drinking there began to chaff me, and one was for giving me
+some beer and grog, but I wouldn't taste.  Just then a Captain
+Merryweather, commander of the barque _Sabrina_, comes up.  He hears
+what was going on, and takes me to a temperance inn and gives me a good
+breakfast, and asks me if I'd go with him to Australia as cabin-boy."
+
+"To Australia!" exclaimed both Thomas and Betty; "have you really been
+to Australia, Sammul?"
+
+"Ay, that I have, and back again too.  Well, I were right glad to go
+with the captain, more particularly arterwards, as I seed Will Jones a-
+coming out on a public, and I thought if he'd a seen me, he might talk
+on it at Langhurst.  When captain axed me if I'd go with him, he wanted
+to know my name.  Eh, I were never so taken aback in all my life.  I
+couldn't tell what to say, for I'd made up my mind as I'd drop the name
+of Samuel Johnson, but I hadn't got any other at hand to take to.  So he
+axes me my name again.  All at once I remembered as I'd see'd the name
+`Jacob Poole' over a little shop in a lane near the town, so I thought,
+`that'll do;' so says I, when he axed me my name again, `Jacob Poole.'
+But I were nearly as fast next time as he called to me, for when he
+says, `Jacob,' I takes no notice.  So he says again, `Jacob Poole,' in a
+loud voice, and then I turns round as if I'd been shot.  I wonder he
+didn't find me out.  But I'm used to the name now.  I hardly know myself
+as Samuel."
+
+"And which must we call you?" asked Betty, with a merry twinkle in her
+eyes.  "Eh! fancy, `Uncle Jacob,' `Brother Jacob.'  And yet it's not a
+bad name neither.  I were reading in John to our Sammul t'other day
+about Jacob's well--that were gradely drink; it were nothing but good
+spring wayter.  But go on, Sammul--Jacob, I mean."
+
+Samuel then proceeded to describe his voyage, his attachment to Frank
+Oldfield, his landing in Australia, and subsequent separation from his
+master till he joined him again at Tanindie.  He then went on to tell
+about his life at the diggings, and his conversion under the preaching
+of the faithful missionary.
+
+"I began to see then," he continued, "as I'd not done the thing as was
+right.  I talked it over with the minister; and I made up my mind as I'd
+come home again and find you out."
+
+Then he told them of his voyage back to England, and of his landing with
+his master at Liverpool.
+
+"Well, then," he proceeded, "as soon as I could be spared I went over to
+Langhurst.  I went to our old place and opened the door.  There were
+none but strange faces.  `Where's Thomas Johnson?' says I.  `Who do ye
+say?' says a woman as was by the hearth-stone.  `Thomas Johnson? he
+don't live here.'  `Where does he live then?' says I again.  `There's
+nobody o' that name in Langhurst,' says the woman.  It were night when I
+got there, so I wasn't noticed.  Then I went to old Anne Butler's, and I
+thought I'd not say who I were, for I were always a closeish sort o'
+chap; and if fayther and our Betty had flitted, I didn't want to have
+all the village arter me.  So I just went to old Anne's.  She didn't
+know me a bit.  So I got talking about the village, and the folks as had
+come and gone; and I let her have her own way.  So she goes from t'one
+to t'other, till at last she says, `There's poor Tommy Johnson, as used
+to live in the stone row; he's flitted with his wench Betty, and nobody
+knows where they've gone.'  `That's strange,' says I, `what made 'em
+flit that fashion?'  `Oh,' she says, `they'd a deal of trouble.  Thomas
+wasn't right in his head arter his lad Sammul went off, so he took up
+with them Brierleys, and turned teetotaller; and then his missus,'--but
+I canna tell ye what she said about poor mother.  I were fair upset, ye
+may be sure, when she told me her sad end; but old Anne were so full of
+her story that she didna heed anything else.  Then she said, `Many of
+his old pals tried to turn poor Tommy back, but they couldn't, but they
+nearly worritted him out of his life.  So one night Tommy and his Betty
+went clean off, and nobody's heard nothing no more on 'em, nor of their
+Sammul neither; and what's strangest thing of all, when they came to
+search the house arter it were known as Tommy had flitted, they found
+some great letters sticking to the chamber-floor in black and red; they
+was verses out of the Bible and Testament.  The verse in black were, "No
+drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God;" t'other verse, in red, were,
+"Prepare to meet thy God."  Some thought as the old lad had put 'em
+there; other some said, "The old lad's not like to burn his own tail in
+the fire."  Howsever, verses were there for several days; I seed 'em
+myself: but one stormy night there came a terrible clap of thunner, and
+an awful flash of lightning, and it went right through chamber of
+Tommy's house, and next morn letters were all gone, and nothing were
+left but a black mark, like a great scorch with a hot iron.'  This were
+old Anne's tale.  I didn't tarry long in her house, for I didn't want to
+be seen by any as knowed me; but I went to many of the towns round about
+to see if I could hear anything about fayther, but it were no good; so I
+went back to Liverpool arter I'd been off about ten days."  Samuel then
+gave them an account of the sad tidings that awaited his return, and
+then added,--
+
+"I didn't know what to do, nor where to go, but I prayed to the Lord to
+guide me, and lead me in his own good time to fayther and our Betty, and
+the Lord has heard me, and he's done it in his own gracious way."
+
+He then recounted his meeting with Old Crow, the knife-grinder, and his
+subsequent history to the time when, on that very evening, he was led in
+the good providence of his heavenly Father to turn down the lane to the
+little cottage.
+
+"The Lord be praised, the Lord be praised!" exclaimed poor Johnson, when
+the story was finished.  "Surely goodness and mercy he's been to us all.
+And, oh, he's been very good in bringing back our Sammul."
+
+"We shall have a rare family gathering when we all meet, Old Crow,
+Deborah, and all," said Betty.  "There'll be fayther, and our John, and
+our Sammul, and our Jacob, and our Deborah, and Old Crow, and little
+Sammul, and the babe.  We must get the squire to build us another
+cottage."
+
+"Ah, Betty, my own sister," said Samuel, "it does my heart good to hear
+your voice once more.  Add now I want fayther to tell his tale.  I want
+to know all about the flitting, and the black and red letters, and all,
+and how you came to light on this lovely spot."
+
+Johnson raised himself in his chair, and prepared to speak.  What a
+wondrous change Christian total abstinence had made in his whole
+appearance.  The prominent animal features had sunk or softened down,
+the rational and intellectual had become developed.  He looked like a
+man, God's thinking and immortal creature now; before, he had looked
+more like a beast, with all that was savage intensified by the venom of
+perverted intelligence.  Now he sat up with all that was noble in his
+character shining out upon his countenance, specially his quiet iron
+determination and decision, in which father and son were so much alike.
+And there was, hallowing every line and look, that peace which passeth
+understanding, and which flows from no earthly fountain.
+
+"Sammul, my lad," he said, "God has been very good to me, for I can say,
+`This my son was lost, and is found.'  He's given me a cup brimful of
+mercies; but the biggest of all is, he's sent us our Sammul back again.
+But I will not spin out my tale with needless talk, as you'll be
+impatient to know all about our flitting.  You'll remember Ned
+Brierley?"
+
+"Ay, well enough," said his son.
+
+"Well, Ned were my best friend on earth, for you must know it were he as
+got me to sign the pledge.  That were arter I got well arter the
+explosion.  Ye heard of the explosion?"
+
+"Yes," replied Samuel; "I heard on it arter I left Langhurst."
+
+"It were a marvellous mercy," continued his father, "as I were spared.
+I'd halted rather 'tween two opinions afore, but when I left my sick-bed
+I came forward, and signed.  Then Ned Brierley and all the family
+flitted, for the mayster'd given him a better shop somewhere in Wales.
+That were a bad job for me.  I'd a weary life of it then.  I thought
+some of my old mates 'ud a torn me in pieces, or jeered the very life
+out of me.  Then, besides, you were not come back to us; and I were very
+down about your poor mother, so that I were casting about to see if I
+couldn't find work somewhere at a distance from Langhurst, where I could
+make a fresh start.  It were in the November arter the explosion that
+same total abstinence chap as got yourself to sign came to our house,
+and axed me to tell my experience at a meeting as was to be held in
+Langhurst on the twenty-third of the month.  I'd sooner have had nothing
+to do wi't, but our Betty said she thought I were bound to speak for the
+good of the cause, so I told the gentleman as I would.  Now, you may
+just suppose as my old mates at the `George' were in a fury when they
+heard of this, and some on 'em were resolved to sarve me out, as they
+called it, though I'd done 'em no harm.  So they meets at Will Jones's
+house, a lot on them, and makes a plot to get into our house the night
+afore the meeting, and scratch my face over with a furze bush while I
+was asleep, and rub lamp-black and gunpowder all over my face, so as I
+shouldn't be able for shame to show myself at the meeting.  But it so
+happened as Will Jones's lad John were under the couch-chair, hiding
+away from his fayther, all the time they was arranging their plans, and
+he heard all as they was saying.  So Will Jones's wife Martha sends the
+lad to tell our Betty when the men was gone.  She'd promised not to say
+anything herself, but that didn't bind the lad, so he came and told.
+What were we to do?  Why, just the right thing were being ordered for
+us.  Do ye remember old Job Paynter, the bill-sticker?"
+
+"Ay, for sure I do," replied Samuel.  "He were a good Christian man, and
+a thorough total abstainer."
+
+"You're right there, Sammul," said his father; "now old Job's uncle to
+our John here.  I'd seen a good deal of old Job of late.  He'd taken to
+me and our Betty, and used often to call and have a cup of tea with us.
+He knowed how I wished to get away from Langhurst; and one night he says
+to me, `I've a nephew, John Walters, down at Fairmow, in Shropshire.
+He's one of the right sort.  I heard from him a while since as his
+squire wants a steady man to overlook a small colliery as he's got on
+his estate.  The man as is there now's taken to drinking, so the
+squire's parting with him in December.  Would you like me to mention
+yourself to my nephew?'  You may be sure, Sammul, I were very thankful
+for the chance.  But it wasn't chance--the word slipped out of my mouth;
+but I've done with chance long since--it were the Lord's doing.  So old
+Job wrote to our John about it, and the end were, the squire offered the
+place to me.  I got Job to keep it quite snug, for I didn't want my old
+mates to know anything about it.  This were all settled afore I'd agreed
+to speak at the meeting.  So when we found, from Martha Jones's lad,
+what my old mates was up to, I talked the matter over with old Job
+Paynter, and we hit upon a plan as'd just turn the tables on 'em, and
+might do 'em some good.  It were all arranged with our John as we should
+be at liberty to come to his cottage here till the place were ready for
+me at the colliery.  Then Job and I talked it over, and it were settled
+as our Betty should go to her aunt's at Rochdale, and take all her
+things with her, and meet me on the twenty-third of November at
+Stockport.  Job was to come to our house on the twenty-second.  So, a
+little afore nine, he slips in when it were very dark, and brings a lot
+of old letters with him ready cut out, and some paste.  You must know as
+he'd a large quantity of old posters by him as had been soiled or torn.
+So he cuts what black letters he wants out of these, and some red 'uns
+too, enough to make the two texts, `No drunkard shall inherit the
+kingdom of God,' and `Prepare to meet thy God.'  Then Job and me goes
+quietly up-stairs, and I holds the candle while he pastes the words on
+the chamber-floor.  Then we rolls up some old bits of stuff into a
+bundle, and lays 'em on my bed, and puts the old coverlid over 'em.
+Then Job and me leaves the house, and locks the door; and that, Sammul,
+is last I've seen of Langhurst."
+
+"And what about the thunder and lightning as scorched out the letters?"
+asked Samuel.
+
+"Only an old woman's tale, I'll be bound," said his father.  "You may be
+sure the next tenant scoured 'em off."
+
+"And now," said John Walters, "it comes to my turn.  Father and Betty
+came down to our house on the twenty-third of November.  My dear mother
+was living then.  I was her only son.  I was bailiff then, as I am now,
+to Squire Collington of the Hall up yonder.  Father worked about at any
+odd jobs I could find him till his place were ready for him, and Betty
+took to being a good daughter at once to my dear mother.  She took to it
+so natural, and seemed so pleased to help mother, and forget all about
+herself, that I soon began to think, `If she takes so natural to being a
+good daughter, she'll not find it hard maybe to learn to be a good
+wife.'  And mother thought so too; and as Betty didn't say, `No,' we
+were married in the following spring."
+
+"Yes, Sammul," said Betty, laughing and crying at the same time; "but I
+made a bargain with John, when we swopped hearts, as I were to leave a
+little bit of mine left me still for fayther and our Sammul."
+
+Thomas Johnson looked at the whole group with a face radiant with
+happiness, and then said,--
+
+"The Lord bless them.  They've been all good childer to me."
+
+"We've always gotten the news of Langhurst from Uncle Job," said Betty.
+"He settled with the landlord about our rent, and our few odd bits of
+things; and he was to send us any letter as came from yourself."
+
+"And so you've been here ever since?"
+
+"Yes.  Our John's mother died two years since come Christmas; and then
+fayther came to live with us.  He'd had a cottage of his own afore, with
+a housekeeper to look arter him."
+
+"And is your squire, Mr Collington, a total abstainer?"
+
+"Ay, he is, for sure, and a gradely 'un too.  He's owner of most of the
+land and houses here.  The whole village belongs to him; and he'll not
+have a drop of intoxicating drinks sold in it.  You passed the public.
+You heard no swearing nor rowing, I'll warrant.  You'll find church, and
+chapel too, both full of Sundays; and there's scarce a house where the
+Bible isn't read every night.  Ah! the drink's the great curse as robs
+the heart of its love, the head of its sense, and the soul of its
+glory!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+There just remain a few creases to be smoothed out, and our story is
+done.
+
+The morning after Samuel's arrival Betty made her way to the Hall,
+taking her brother with her.  She knew that the squire and his lady, and
+indeed the whole family, would rejoice to hear that the wanderer was
+returned, for all loved the simple-hearted Lancashire girl, and had long
+sympathised with her and her father in their sorrow about Samuel.
+
+Mr Collington and his lady having heard Betty's statement with the
+deepest interest, sent for Samuel, and had a long conversation with him.
+
+"And what do you say to entering my service?" asked the squire.  "We
+have learned to prize your father and sister so highly, that I shall
+feel perfect confidence in taking you with no other recommendation than
+your story and your relationship to them."
+
+"Well, sir," replied Samuel, "you're very good.  I'm tired of roving,
+and shall be glad to settle, if you can find me a place as'll suit me;
+only I mustn't forget as there's others I owe a duty to."
+
+"You mean the friends you have left behind in Bolton?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Betty; "he's bound to be looking arter them.  And
+there's Deborah, as he'll be bringing to share his home with him."
+
+"And Old Crow too?" asked Mrs Collington.
+
+"I cannot say, ma'am," replied Samuel; "but I must either take his cart
+back to him, or bring him over this side to his cart."
+
+"Well, we'll see what can be done," said the squire.
+
+Let us leave them for a while, and pass to Greymoor Park.  Sir Thomas
+and Lady Oldfield have left it for an absence of several years; indeed,
+many doubts are expressed in the neighbourhood whether they will ever
+come back to reside there again.  There is the stamp of neglect and
+sorrow upon the place.  Sir Thomas has become a more thoughtful man--he
+is breaking up, so people say.  His wife has found a measure of comfort
+at the only true Fountain, for her religion is now the substance--it was
+once only the shadow.  But the past cannot be recalled, and a sorrow
+lies heavy on her heart which must go with her to her grave; and oh,
+there is a peculiar bitterness in that sorrow when she reflects what her
+poor boy might have been had she never herself broken down his resolve
+to renounce entirely that drink which proved his after-ruin.  And what
+of the Oliphants at the Rectory?  Bernard Oliphant still keeps on his
+holy course, receiving and scattering light.  Hubert is abroad and
+prospers, beloved by all who know him.
+
+And Mary, poor Mary, she carries a sorrow which medicine can never heal.
+Yet she sorrows not altogether without hope; for, according to her
+promise, she never ceased to pray for the erring object of her love; and
+she still therefore clings to the trust that there may have been light
+enough in his soul at the last for him to see and grasp the outstretched
+hand of Jesus.  And sorrow has not made her selfish.  She has learned to
+take a deepening interest in the happiness of others; and thus, in her
+self-denying works of faith and labours of love, she finds the
+throbbings of her wounded spirit to beat less fiercely.  She has gained
+all she hopes for in this life, peace--not in gloomy seclusion, but in
+holy activity--and she knows that there is joy for her laid up in that
+bright, eternal land where the sorrows of the past can cast no shadows
+on present glory.
+
+And now let us pass from those who mourn to those who rejoice.  It is a
+lovely day in early September, and there is evidently something more
+than ordinary going on at Fairmow Park.  In the village itself there is
+abundance of bustle and excitement, but all of the most innocent kind,
+for alcohol has nothing to do with it.  Old and young are on the move,
+but the young seem to be specially interested.  In fact, it is the
+"Annual Meeting of the Fairmow Band of Hope," which is to gather for
+dinner and recreation, as it always does, in the Park.  So banners are
+flying, and children hurrying to and fro, and parents looking proud, and
+all looking happy.  But to-day there is to be a double festivity, for
+Samuel Johnson and Deborah Cartwright are to be married.  Deborah is
+staying at John Walters', and Samuel has got a snug little cottage no
+great way on the other side of the brook; and not far-off, and a little
+nearer to the Hall, is still another cottage, where Old Crow is just
+settled with Deborah's mother for housekeeper, for the old man could not
+rest content to be so far away from his adopted son Jacob, for he "means
+to call him Jacob and nothing else as long as he lives."  The old man is
+not without money of his own, and he still means to do a little in the
+knife-grinding line.  So his cart is to be wheeled up for him to the
+Park this afternoon, and he is to sharpen just as many or just as few
+knives for the squire, and scissors for the ladies, as he pleases.  And
+now--for it is almost half-past ten o'clock--there is a straggling of
+various groups up to the neat little ivy-covered church.  Oh, what a
+joyful day it is for Thomas Johnson and Betty!  They hardly know how to
+hold all the love that swells in their hearts, and every one is so kind
+to them.  Then the bells ring out joyfully, and the churchyard is filled
+with expectant faces of old and young.  The squire, his wife, and
+daughters are to be there, and after the wedding there is to be a short
+service and an address from the clergyman.  And now the little wedding-
+party winds up the hill, two and two, from John Walters' cottage, all
+supremely happy down to little Samuel and the babe, who are to share in
+the festivities of the day.  All enter the church; the squire and his
+party being already seated.  Old Crow is there, of course, for he is to
+give Deborah away.  He has a Sunday suit on now, the garments of various
+eras being only for working days.  Who so full of joy as Samuel, as he
+passes through the gazing throng with Deborah on his arm.  They are to
+drive at once after the wedding to the Park in the squire's dog-cart.
+The marriage-ceremony is duly performed, and the address delivered.
+Then comes the band, with its brazen roar strangely jangling with the
+merry bells.  The road is all alive with labourers in clean smocks, and
+lads with polished faces.  The children in their holiday attire and Band
+of Hope ribbons run in and out everywhere.  Fathers and mothers look
+glad, and old men and women benevolent.  Flowers are to be seen in
+profusion, for total abstinence and flowers go everywhere together:
+there are flowers in the churchyard, flowers in the church, flowers in
+button-holes, belts, and bonnets, flowers in huge fragrant nosegays,
+flowers in choice little bouquets.  And so, laughing, smiling, running,
+walking, hastening, sauntering, chatting, greeting, on go young and
+middle-aged and old, and the sloping sward of the Park is gained, and
+the Hall comes into close view.  And there, under a wide expanse of
+canvas, is spread the healthful, bountiful repast--plenty of meat,
+plenty of drink of the right sort, and nothing to stimulate appetite but
+those odours which never tempt any but the gluttonous to excess.  All
+are now gathered and take their places; young and old sit side by side.
+The squire, his lady, his daughters, and the clergyman are there.  Every
+one is assured of a hearty welcome, and falls to in earnest when the
+grace has been sung.  At length the vehement clashing of knives and
+forks and clattering of plates has subsided to a solitary click or two;
+all have been satisfied, and the squire rises.  He has a word of
+kindness, love, and encouragement for each.  They know how he loves
+them, and they listen with the deepest attention.  And thus he speaks:--
+
+"Our kind and beloved pastor has addressed us all in church this
+morning, and I trust we shall remember well the words of truth and
+wisdom which he spoke.  And now it falls to myself to speak to you.  I
+can most truthfully declare how it rejoices myself and my dear wife to
+see so many healthy, happy faces at our yearly `Band of Hope' festivity.
+But to-day we specially rejoice, because we see here a happy couple who
+have just been joined together as man and wife in our church, with the
+blessed prospect of being fellow-partakers of the happiness of heaven.
+I am very thankful to number them among my tenants and people.  You all
+of you now know something of Samuel Johnson, his trials, temptations,
+and struggles as a Christian total abstainer.  (`Hear, hear,' from Old
+Crow.)  What a truly happy gathering this is!  I have no need to look at
+any with misgiving lest their bright faces should owe their brightness
+to excess in intoxicating liquors.  We have no false stimulants here--we
+have no clouded brains, no aching consciences here--none will go home
+needing to rue the gathering and recreations of this day.  And now,
+young people of the `Band of Hope,' my dear boys and girls, I have just
+a parting word for you.  Never let any one persuade you, go where you
+may, to forsake your pledged total abstinence.  Never care for a laugh
+or a frown, they can do you no harm while God is on your side.  Oh,
+remember what an insidious, what a crafty tempter the drink is!  I have
+a short story to tell you that will illustrate this.  Many years ago,
+when the English and French were at war with one another in North
+America, a portion of the English army was encamped near a dense and
+trackless forest.  The French were on friendly terms with a tribe of Red
+Indians who lived thereabouts, and our men were therefore obliged to be
+specially on their guard against these crafty savage foes.  A sentinel
+was placed just on the border of the forest, and he was told to be very
+watchful against a surprise from the Indians.  But one day, when the
+sergeant went to relieve guard, he found the sentinel dead, his scalp,
+(that is, the hair with the skin and all), torn from his head, and his
+musket gone.  This was plainly the work of an Indian.  Strict charge was
+given to the new sentinel to fire his musket on the first approach of an
+enemy.  Again they went to relieve guard, and again they found the
+sentinel dead and scalped as the one before him.  They left another
+soldier in his place, and after a while, hearing the discharge of a
+musket, they hurried to the spot.  There stood the sentinel uninjured,
+and close at his feet lay a Red Indian dead.  The sentinel's account was
+this.  While he was keeping his eyes on the forest, he saw coming from
+it a sort of large hog common in those parts, which rolls itself about
+in a peculiarly amusing manner.  In its gambols it kept getting nearer
+and nearer to him, when all of a sudden it darted into his mind,
+`Perhaps this creature is only an Indian in disguise.'  He fired at it,
+and found it was even so.  The crafty savage had thus approached the
+other sentinels, who had been thrown off their guard by his skilful
+imitation of the animal's movements, so that the Indian had sprung up
+and overpowered them before they could fire or call for help.  Now it is
+just so, dear boys and girls, with the drink.  It comes, as it were, all
+innocence and playfulness: it raises the spirits, unchains the tongue,
+makes the eyes bright, and persuades a man that the last thing he will
+do will be to exceed; and then it gets closer and closer, and springs
+upon him, and gets the mastery over him, before he is at all aware.  But
+don't you trifle with it, for it comes from the enemy's country--it is
+in league with the enemy--repel it at the outset--have nothing to do
+with it--it has surprised and slain millions of immortal beings--never
+taste, and then you will never crave.  Oh, how happy to show that you
+can live without it!  Then you may win others to follow your example.
+Ay, the young total abstainer who will not touch the drink because he
+loves his Saviour, does indeed stand on a rock that cannot be moved, and
+he can stretch out the helping hand to others, and cry, `Come up here
+and be safe.'  And now away to your games and your sports, and may God
+bless you all!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Frank Oldfield, by T.P. Wilson
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