the room.

Pisistratus.--"I have again seen my cousin. I cannot make the way I
wished. My dear father, you must see him."

Mr. Caxton.--"I? Yes, assuredly, if I can be of any service. But will he
listen to me?"

Pisistratus.--"I think so. A young man will often respect in his elder
what he will resent as a presumption in his contemporary."

Mr. Caxton.--"It may be so. [Then more thoughtfully] But you describe
this strange boy's mind as a wreck! In what part of the mouldering
timbers can I fix the grappling-hook? Here it seems that most of the
supports on which we can best rely, when we would save another, fail
us,--religion, honor, the associations of childhood, the bonds of
home, filial obedience, even the intelligence of self-interest, in the
philosophical sense of the word. And I, too,--a mere bookman! My dear
son, I despair!"

Pisistratus.--"No, you do not despair; no, you must succeed,--for if you
do not, what is to become of Uncle Roland? Do you not see his heart is
fast breaking?"

Mr. Caxton.--"Get me my hat. I will go; I will save this Ishmael,--I
will not leave him till he is saved!"

Pisistratus. (Some minutes after, as they are walking towards Vivian's
lodging).--"You ask me what support you are to cling to: a strong and a
good one, sir."

Mr. Caxton. "Ah! what is that?"

Pisistratus.--"Affection! There is a nature capable of strong affection
at the core of this wild heart. He could love his mother,--tears gush
to his eyes at her name; he would have starved rather than part with the
memorial of that love. It was his belief in his father's indifference
or dislike that hardened and imbruted him; it is only when he hears how
that father loved him that I now melt his pride and curb his passions.
You have affection to deal with! Do you despair now?

"My father turned on me those eyes so inexpressibly benign and mild, and
replied softly, 'No!'

"We reached the house; and my father said, as we knocked at the door,
'If he is at home, leave me. This is a hard study to which you have set
me; I must work at it alone.'

"Vivian was at home, and the door closed on his visitor. My father
stayed some hours.

"On returning home, to my great surprise I found Trevanion with my
uncle. He had found us out,--no easy matter, I should think. But a good
impulse in Trevanion was not of that feeble kind which turns home at the
sight of a difficulty. He had come to London on purpose to see and to
thank us.

"I did