Year: 1860

who could be there, disturbing the al
most Sabbath stiffness Of the midsummer
day, when Maria, the housemaid. came
to inform me that there was a strange
man at the woOdpile, and to request me
that l should go and see who it was.


| looked from window and discover
ed an addressed fellow carelessly swing
ing the axe, and hacking here and there
stick in an undecided manner, with his
bead down, and his face shaded by the
brim Of very bad hat.


There was something in his swagger-
ing attitudes which thought I recog-
nized; but it was some time before 1
could realize that in those beggarly ha-
biliments 1 saw the son of one of our
most worthy and respected citizens.
stepped to the door.


Martin Lockwood" said ], SIS it
you?"


. I suppose its me" he replied, giving
the axe reckless flourish with one hand,
and striking it into log. Il thought
I'd cut little wood for you. by way of
amusement"


l made no answer, and he stood for a
moment, looking at any thing except me
rolling a quid in his cheek, and wi
ping the sweat from beneath his hat
brim,-with an evident attempt to keep
up 1he old staggering manner, while
conscious shame was fast mastering him.
. I guess you are little astonished at
seeing me" he said, after an awkward
pause, resuming his hold of the axe-han-
die, and leaning on it.


Yes, Martin I am a good deal as
touished"


=" I've way of astonishing folks.
astonish myself little I hardly know,
how came here, but here I am; if 1
am not welcome, I'll put off again,-the
world is wide,-Pm bound to live some
where,-a man must live, you know p


He laughed at first, but his voice grew
hard and bitter, and there was a look of
wildness and desperation in his eyes, as
he proceeded ; and 1 could perceive that
the shame which covered him was being
shaken and flung away By rising and
swelling passions.


" You are welcome, Martin come in .
He flung down the axe, which he had
grasped again with savage reeklessness f;
and followed me, swinging bis hat, and
taking long strides through the hall, with
haughtiness defiant of rags.


IF had thought you came to see
me, Martin, 1 should have welcomed
you before. You have picked up new
fashions in your travels; am not used
to visitors that go to chopping at the
woodpile instead Of knocking at the door
Sit down. I'll take your hat"


He sank slouchingly upon a chair but
instead of giving me his hat, he scaled
it careIessly into a corner of the room.


4 supposed 1 wouldn't be considerd
fit to enter a decent mans house. said
he, crossing bis legs with an arrogant
bend of the neck. I wouldn't knock
and be refused. I've been something of
a scamp and a coed deal of a fool
know it as well as any body


EAnd you are sorrier for it than you
are willing any one should think, said l.
There's no use in being sorry for
what can't be helped.


Yes, there is,-great use in II, Mar
tin. Repentance is the water that helps
to wash Us clean again, when we have
been in the mire. To pass over our er-
rOrs with reckless and desperate air, as
you are endeavOdiug to do now, is to
add foOlishness to folly


We'll, you are right there, said Mar
tin, frankly, penetrated by the direct
truthfnllness with which I met him. j
don't know whether I am exactly sorry
but, III tell you, sir, am furious when
I think what fool 1 have been-what
a disgrace to myseIf-what shame to
my folks, who, suppose, wont own me
again, fool that am


He gnashed his teeth together, with ar
expression of remorse and coavulsive
pain which drew me nearer to him than
could get before. Hardened viIIainy re
pels US; bat the moment the sinner soft
ems, the moment penitence appears, oul
sympathies flow out to him, all the deep
er and more impulsive for the great bar
rier Of guilt which has kept Us from bin
hitherto, bot which we now feel breakin,
away.


20, Martini said this IS indees
you the boy / used to watch with suel
interest as you greW ap, hoping suci
great and good things Of you @, Mar