moment the door burst open. Mrs Dorothy Grumbit uttered a
piercing scream, Mr Jollyboy dropped his spectacles and sat down on his
hat and Martin Rattler stood before them with the white kitten in his
arms.

For a few seconds there was a dead silence, while an expression of
puzzled disappointment passed over Mr Jollyboy's ruddy countenance. At
last he said--

"Is this, madam, the nephew who, you told me a little ago, is not
addicted to fighting?"

"Yes," answered the old lady faintly, and covering her eyes with her
hands, "that is Martin."

"If my aunt told you that, sir, she told you the truth," said Martin,
setting down the blood-stained white kitten, which forthwith began to
stretch its limbs and lick itself dry. "I don't ever fight if I can
help it but I couldn't help it to-day."

With a great deal of energy, and a revival of much of his former
indignation, when he spoke of the kitten's sufferings, Martin recounted
all the circumstances of the fight; during the recital of which Mrs
Dorothy Grumbit took his hand in hers and patted it, gazing the while
into his swelled visage, and weeping plentifully, but very silently.
When he had finished, Mr Jollyboy shook hands with him, and said he was
a trump, at the same time recommending him to go and wash his face.
Then he whispered a few words in Mrs Grumbit's ear, which seemed to
give that excellent lady much pleasure; after which he endeavoured to
straighten his crushed hat; in which attempt he failed, took his leave,
promised to call again very soon, and went back to the Old Hulk--
chuckling.

CHAPTER FIVE.

MARTIN, BEING WILLING TO GO TO SEA, GOES TO SEA AGAINST HIS WILL.

Four years rolled away, casting chequered light and shadow over the
little village of Ashford in their silent passage,--whitening the
forelocks of the aged, and strengthening the muscles of the young.
Death, too, touched a hearth here and there, and carried desolation to a
home; for four years cannot wing their flight without enforcing on us
the lesson--which we are so often taught and yet take so long to learn--
that this is not our rest,--that here we have no abiding city. Did we
but ponder this lesson more frequently and earnestly, instead of making
us sad, it would nerve our hearts and hands to fight and work more
diligently,--to work in the cause of our Redeemer,--the only cause that
is worth the life-long energy of immortal beings,--the great cause that
includes all others; and