Year: 1871

more. What makes the think thee
will keep thy vowg'


81 know, friend Edgerton, I have
often, often vowed to drink no more
but now I feel different from what
I ever did before. MY heart is bro
ken, I feel my weakness, and / be-
lieve God viii help me this time. .


'God grant it may be SO, Daniel.
Get in and take a seat. Thee must
be hungry 60 home with me-


On the way the Quaker drew out
Of him all that we've written; and
he advised him to go to California.
He told him to go to New York,
and work his passage round the
Cape. He determined to do so.-
The Quaker furnished him with
suitable apparel.


''Thee wants to see thy wife and
children before thee goesg


"Yes, friend Edgerton, I do, but
they have become estranged from
me. fl went, perhaps they would
not believe what I say. It is bet
ter that 1 should not see them. In
deed it is better that they shouldn't
know where I am. I want to sur
prise them, as hope todo, by COM
ing back a sober man, and with mo-
ney- enough to make them comfort
able. I prefer that you and your
wife should be the only persons in
the place who know where I am and
what I am doing"


Thus, while riding towards the
quiet farmhouse of the Quaker, the
whole thing was arranged. When
they reached the place, the horse
was put in the barn and they enter
ed the house, he said to his wife
as they took their seats by the fire:


'Amy, thee may put another
plate. Daniel will stay with us
few days, and then he will go to
California"


The benevolent Quaker was con
fdent that Daniel Akin would keep
his resolve.


At length when everything was
in readiness, the horse was harness
ed, and Daniel Akin was on his way
to a railway station. He had not
been in the village since the night
when the words, ''Not a drop moro,
Daniel" were uttered. He was
missed from his customary haunts,
but it was supposed he had gone
off on a spree, and so nothing was
thought Of his absence. His wife's
father lived in the adjoining town,
and some thought he had gone over
there.


No inquiries we're made, for ma
ny were rejOiced that he was miss
ing, and cared not for his return.
He had been gone somewhat more
than a year, when the Quaker was
in the store of Haskins and remark
ed that he wished to hire a pasture
the coming season.


"I have got one I win let yon
have free of rent, if you win put
up the fences on the place" said
Haskins.


'Where is it? asked the Quaker.


'On the Akin farm


''If thee will rent it at that rate,
the must have let it get out of re-
pair"


''It is so indeed; I cannot leave
the store to attend to it. The house
is poor, and the family that lived in
it were too shiftless to buy wood,
and burnt up all the rails. I had
rather sell than rent it."


''What will thee takeY'


81 cost me some sixteen hundred
dollars"


"Yes, but thee paid in goods and
had thy own price on them"


''To be sure 1 did. Akin could
not get trusted anywhere else, and
1 felt that Twas running a great risk
in letting him have goods. I had
to charge him accordingly, just as

ANYBODY would under the eircum-
stances. -


"Thee has not told me what thee
would take for the place. viii
give thee eight hundred dollars for
it, if that is any object to thee.


Haskins thought long enough to
conclude that the interest Of eight
hundred dollars was far better for
him than the farm, for the use Of
which he had scarcely realized any
thing, and said. .'You can have it"


"Thee can make me out a deed to-
morrow, and thee shall have thy
money. BY the way, does thee
know what has become Of Daniel
Aking'


tNo. He has not been in the VII
Iage for more than a year. At any
rate, 1 have nos seen him"


We may tell The reader what Has
kins did not know. The Quaker
had that. day received a letter from
/ Daniel Akin, stating that be was at
the mines, hard at work, and was
sticking to his motto, Not a drop
more, Daniel," and that he had laid
up a few hundred dollars, and de-
string him to inquire what the place
| he once owned could be bought
for. Mr.. Edgerton had taken the
I sr.rrsaH 70 EfmFI