h, at least,"
said Ned regretfully, "but you know how it is. I'm reaping what I
sowed. Things might be worse. I knew 'em worse in London--before I
turned over a new leaf."

The mugs being emptied, and the rest of us playing host in turn, they
were several times replenished. Ned had been drinking before he met
us; but this was not apparent until he began to show the effect of his
potations while the heads of us his companions were still perfectly
clear. It was evident that he had not allowed his conversion to wean
him from this kind of indulgence. The conversation reverted to his
time of destitution in London.

"Such experiences," observed Cornelius, "have their good fruits. They
incline men to repentance who might else continue in their evil ways
all their lives."

"Yes, sir; that's the truth!" cried Ned. "If I'd had some people's
luck--but it's better to be saved than to make a fortune--although, to
be sure, there are fellows, rascals, too, that the Lord seems to take
far better care of than he does of his own!"

Mr. Cornelius looked a little startled at this. But the truth was, I
make no doubt, that the pretence of virtue, adopted for the purpose of
regaining the comforts of his father's house, wore heavily upon Ned;
that he chafed terribly under it sometimes; and that this was one of
the hours when, his wits and tongue loosened by drink, he became
reckless and allowed himself relief. He knew that Philip, Cornelius,
and I, never tattled. And so he cast the muzzle of sham reformation
from his mouth.

He was silent for a while, recollections of past experience rising
vividly in his mind, as they will when a man comes to a certain stage
of drink.

"Sure, luck is an idiot," he burst out presently, wrathful from his
memories. "It reminds me of a fool of a wench that passes over a
gentleman and flings herself at a lout. For, lookye, there was two of
us in London, a rascal Irishman and me, that lived in the same
lodgings. We did that to save cost, after we'd both had dogs' fortune
at the cards and the faro-table. If it hadn't been for a good-natured
woman or two--I spoke ill of the breed just now, but they have their
merits--we'd have had no lodgings at all then, except the Fleet,
maybe, or Newgate, if it had come to that. Well, as I was saying, we
were both as near starvation as ever _I_ wish to be, the Irishman and
me. There we were, poverty-stricken as rats, both tarred with the same
stick, no difference between