ut he _was_
sober now. The tears overflowed his eyes, and he brushed them hastily
away as he drew his chair near to the bright little circle of happy
healthy faces. He ate and drank for a while in silence, and then said
with a faltering voice,--

"Ned, you're a true Christian. I'll never say a word against you behind
your back any more."

Brierley held out his hand to him, and the other grasped it warmly.

"I'll tell you what," said Ned, in a cheery voice, "I'd give a good
deal, Thomas, to see you a total abstainer; it'd be the making of you."

Johnson shook his head sorrowfully.

"I mustn't; Alice wouldn't let me. I can't; the drink's more to me nor
meat, and clothes, and everything. I durstn't, for my old pals at the
`George' would chaff me to death with their jeers and their jokes. I
couldn't face them for shame."

"Oh, Thomas," cried Ned, "what a slave the drink's made of you:--
mustn't! can't! durstn't!--what! ain't you a man? haven't you got a will
of your own?"

"No, Ned, that's just it; I haven't a will of my own: the old lad's got
it off me long since."

"Ay, but, Thomas, you must get it back again," exclaimed Brierley's
wife; "you must go to Jesus, and he'll help you."

Johnson fidgeted uneasily in his chair; at last he said,--

"I can't do without my beer; I haven't strength to work without it."

"You've taken plenty of it, I reckon," remarked Ned, "and you don't seem
to thrive much on't."

"I've taken too much," said the other, "but I can't do without a
little."

"You can't do _with_ a little, I fear. It's first only a pint, and then
it's only a quart, and then it's only a gallon, till at last it's only a
fuddled head and an empty pocket. Come, join us, Thomas; take the first
step boldly like a man, and then just pray for grace, and you'll not
fear what other folks can do to you."

"But I shall never get through my work without a drop of beer to wash
dust out of my throat and spirit me up," persisted Johnson. "I feel
like another sort of man when I've had my pint."

"Yes, just for a bit," replied Ned. "Now it seems to me just the same
as what we might do with our fire. I bid our Esther look to the fire,
so she goes and sticks to the poker, and each now and then she pokes
away at the fire, and the fire blazes up and blazes up, but very soon
there's nothing left to blaze with. The fire'll be out directly, so I
says to our Mary, _you_ look after the fire, so our Mary goes to the