I had seen Harry Oaklands, and given him an
account of ~468~~ our adventures. Wilford's fate affected him strongly,
and, shading his brow with his hand, he sat for some moments wrapped in
meditation. At length he said, in a deep low tone, "These things force
thought upon one, Frank. How nearly was this man's fate my own! How
nearly was I being hurried into eternity with a weight of passions
unrestrained, of sins unrepented of, clinging to my guilty soul! God has
been very merciful to me." He paused; then, pressing my hand warmly,
he added, "And now, good-night, Frank; to-morrow I shall be more fit to
rejoice with you in your prospects of coming happiness; to-night I would
fain be alone--you understand me". My only reply was by wringing his
hand in return, and we parted.

Reader, such thoughts as these working in a mind like that of Harry
Oaklands, could not be without their effect; and when in after
years, having by constant and unceasing watchfulness conquered his
constitutional indolence, his voice has been raised in the senate of
his country to defend the rights and privileges of our pure and holy
faith--when men's hearts, spell-bound by his eloquence, have been turned
from evil to follow after the thing that is good, memory has brought
before me that conversation in the library at Heathfield; and, as I
reflected on the effect produced on the character of Oaklands by the
fearful death of the homicide Wilford, I have acknowledged that the ways
of Providence are indeed inscrutable.

I was roused from a deep sleep at an uncomfortably early hour on the
following morning, by a sound much resembling a "view halloo," coupled
with my own name, shouted in the hearty tones of Lawless; and, flinging
open the window, I perceived that indefatigable young gentleman employed
in performing some incomprehensible manouvres with two sticks and a
large flint stone, occasionally varying his diversion by renewing the
rough music which had broken my slumbers.

"Why, Lawless, what do you mean by rousing me at this unreasonable hour?
it's not six o'clock yet. And what in the world are you doing with those
sticks?"

"Unreasonable, eh? well, that's rather good, now! Just tell me which is
the most unreasonable, to lie snoring in bed like a fat pig or a fatter
alderman, such a beautiful morning as this is, or to be out and enjoying
it--eh?"

"You have reason on your side, so far, I must confess."

"Eh? yes, and so I always have, to be su