iately, and come back with all
possible speed." The prompt obedience that he gave to my first order
augured well for his attention.

On his return, I addressed him seriously to this effect: "My friend, you
shall share with me to the last shilling; but, believe me, my position
is as dangerous as it is unnatural. It is full of difficulty, and
requires not only conduct, but courage. I have a parent that either
dares not, or from some sinister motive will not, own me; and I fear me
much that I have a half-brother that I know is pursuing me with the
assassin's knife, whilst I am pursuing him with the vengeance of the
law. It is either the death of the hunted dog for me, or of the felon's
scaffold for him. The event is in the hand of God. We must be
vigilant, for my peril is great. My implacable enemy is leagued with
some of the worst miscreants of this vast resort of villainy; he knows
all the labyrinths of this Babel of iniquity; and the fraternal steel
may be in my bosom even amidst the hum of multitudes. That man has a
strong motive for my death, and to personify me afterwards. Already has
he stolen my vouchers and my certificates. The mystery to me appears
almost inscrutable; but his inducements to destroy me are obvious
enough. I think that I am tolerably safe here, though I am equally sure
that I am watched. Here is money. Go now, and purchase two brace of
serviceable pistols and a couple of stout sword-canes. We will be
prepared for the worst. Of course you will sleep here, and hereafter
always take up your abode in whatever place I may be. As you return,
you must find, in some quiet street, an unobtrusive tailor--he must not
have a shop--bring him with you. I must put you in livery, after all."

"Why, if so be you must, I suppose you must--I'm off."

Pigtop did his commissions well. He returned with the arms and the
tailor. "I hope," said he, "you won't want me to wear this livery
long?"

"Not long, I hope. My friend," said I, addressing the man of measures,
"this gentleman, lately in the navy, has had recently a very serious
turn. He is profoundly repentant of the wickedness of his past life--he
has had a call--he has listened to it. It is not unlikely that he may
shortly take out a licence to preach. Make him a suit of sad-coloured
clothes, not cut out after the vanities of the world. Your own would
not serve for a bad model. You go to meeting, I presume?"

"I have received grace--I es