un to
torment Abel Bones. When he saved Tottie from the fire, Aspel had
himself unwittingly unlocked the door in the burglar's soul which let
the vengeful minister in. Thereafter Miss Stivergill's illustration of
mercy, _for the sake of another_, had set the unlocked door ajar, and
the discovery that his ill-treated little nephew had nearly lost his
life in the same cause, had pulled the door well back on its rusty
hinges.

Having thus obtained free entrance, Remorse sat down and did its work
with terrible power. Bones was a man of tremendous passions and
powerful will. His soul revolted violently from the mean part he had
been playing. Although he had not succeeded in drawing Aspel into the
vortex of crime as regards human law, he had dragged him very low, and,
especially, had fanned the flame of thirst for strong drink, which was
the youth's chief--at least his most dangerous--enemy. His thirst was
an inheritance from his forefathers, but the sin of giving way to it--of
encouraging it at first when it had no power, and then of gratifying it
as it gained strength, until it became a tyrant--was all his own. Aspel
knew this, and the thought filled him with despair as he sat there with
his now scarred and roughened fingers almost tearing out his hair, while
his bloodshot eyes stared stonily at the blank wall opposite.

Bones continued to gaze at his companion, and to wish with all his heart
that he had never met him. He had, some time before that, made up his
mind to put no more temptation in the youth's way. He now went a step
further--he resolved to attempt the task of getting him out of the
scrapes into which he had dragged him. But he soon found that the will
which had always been so powerful in the carrying out of evil was
woefully weak in the unfamiliar effort to do good!

Still, Bones had made up his mind to try. With this end in view he
proposed a walk in the street, the night being fine. Aspel sullenly
consented. The better to talk the matter over, Bones proposed to retire
to a quiet though not savoury nook by the river-side. Aspel objected,
and proposed a public-house instead, as being more cheerful.

Just opposite that public-house there stood one of those grand
institutions which are still in their infancy, but which, we are
persuaded, will yet take a prominent part in the rescue of thousands of
mankind from the curse of strong drink. It was a "public-house without
drink"--a coffee-tavern, w