akness, and laid it down. But he soon took it up again, and evidently
found both pleasure in the tones and sadness in the memories they
awakened. At length Robert brought a tailor, and had him dressed like
a gentleman--a change which pleased him much. The next step was to take
him out every day for a drive, upon which his health began to improve
more rapidly. He ate better, grew more lively, and began to tell tales
of his adventures, of the truth of which Robert was not always certain,
but never showed any doubt. He knew only too well that the use of opium
is especially destructive to the conscience. Some of his stories he
believed more readily than others, from the fact that he suddenly
stopped in them, as if they were leading him into regions of confession
which must be avoided, resuming with matter that did not well connect
itself with what had gone before. At length he took him out walking, and
he comported himself with perfect propriety.

But one day as they were going along a quiet street, Robert met an
acquaintance, and stopped to speak with him. After a few moments'
chat he turned, and found that his father, whom he had supposed to be
standing beside him, had vanished. A glance at the other side of the
street showed the probable refuge--a public-house. Filled but not
overwhelmed with dismay, although he knew that months might be lost in
this one moment, Robert darted in. He was there, with a glass of whisky
in his hand, trembling now more from eagerness than weakness. He struck
it from his hold. But he had already swallowed one glass, and he turned
in a rage. He was a tall and naturally powerful man--almost as strongly
built as his son, with long arms like his, which were dangerous even
yet in such a moment of factitious strength and real excitement. Robert
could not lift his arm even to defend himself from his father, although,
had he judged it necessary, I believe he would not, in the cause of his
redemption, have hesitated to knock him down, as he had often served
others whom he would rather a thousand times have borne on his
shoulders. He received his father's blow on the cheek. For one moment
it made him dizzy, for it was well delivered. But when the bar-keeper
jumped across the counter and approached with his fist doubled, that was
another matter. He measured his length on the floor, and Falconer seized
his father, who was making for the street, and notwithstanding his
struggles and fierce efforts to strike