voice was husky as he said:

"My dear brother, forgive me for taking for granted that your position
on this subject was unchanged because you did not choose to tell me so;
but why did you not? Oh, if I _could_ tell you how I have longed and
prayed for this."

"I know it," said Jim, holding the proffered hand in a hearty grasp. "I
have been wrong in that respect; but I felt so weak, so doubtful at
times, so afraid of making blunders, that I thought it best to keep
quiet, and if my life could not speak for me then it would be because
there was nothing to speak. But I was at prayer-meeting last evening;
sat over in the seat by the door. I heard what you said, and I came to
the conclusion that the Lord had lighted my candle for me, and that I
had hidden it away under a bushel as if I were ashamed of it; and I have
been planning all day how to bring it out from the shadow and have it
shine."

You may imagine that the rest of that evening was blessed to those two
young men. Those of you who by experience know any thing about it will
understand how Theodore believed that he could never hear words more
blessed than those which Jim spoke to him as they shook hands for
good-night.

"Least of all, my dear fellow, should I have hid the story from you, for
from the first to the last you have been the means, under God, of my
finding him; and, Mallery, one of the longest strides I ever took toward
the 'strait gate' was that evening when you almost _made_ me sign the
pledge. Oh, we have a new name to our roll. Did I tell you? Mr. Ryan."

"Not the lawyer?"

"Yes, the lawyer. Boards at the Euclid House, you know; signed at our
last meeting. _You_ had something to do with that, hadn't you? He said
something to me in that queer way he has about meeting Habakkuk not long
ago, and finding that he had added the whole Bible to his bottle
argument."

And so it was that Theodore did not go yet after all, but sat down again
to discuss this new delight.

And thus it came to pass that he was walking rapidly down town at rather
a late hour, and overtook two persons who were stumbling and muttering
along the now nearly deserted street.

"Poor wretches," he said to himself; "poor miserable wretches! I wonder
whether the rum-hole that sent them out in this condition was gilded and
glittering, or was a veritable cellar stripped of its disguise? This is
what I used to fear for Jim, the splendid fellow! I never half did him
justice. What a boy