in the direction of the Blue Lion. It was a beautiful summer evening,
and his bosom swelled as he thought of the improvements that a little
brotherliness might effect in Elk Street. Engrossed in such ideas, it
almost hurt him to find that, as he entered one door of the Blue Lion,
two gentlemen, forgetting all about their beer, disappeared through the
other.

"Wot 'ave they run away like that for?" he demanded, looking round.
"I wouldn't hurt 'em."

"Depends on wot you call hurting, Joe," said a friend.

Mr. Billing shook his head. "They've no call to be afraid of me," he
said, gravely. "I wouldn't hurt a fly; I've got a new 'art."

"A new wot?" inquired his friend, staring.

"A new 'art," repeated the other. "I've given up fighting and swearing,
and drinking too much. I'm going to lead a new life and do all the good
I can; I'm going--"

"Glory! Glory!" ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for
the door, disappeared.

"He'll know me better in time," said Mr. Billing. "Why, I wouldn't hurt
a fly. I want to do good to people; not to hurt 'em. I'll have a pint,"
he added, turning to the bar.

"Not here you won't," said the landlord, eyeing him coldly.

"Why not?" demanded the astonished Mr. Billing.

"You've had all you ought to have already," was the reply. "And there's
one thing I'll swear to--you ain't had it 'ere."

"I haven't 'ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing.

"Yes, I know," said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two glasses
and wiped the counter; "I've heard it all before, over and over again.
Mind you, I've been in this business thirty years, and if I don't know
when a man's had his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. You get off
'ome and ask your missis to make you a nice cup o' good strong tea, and
then get up to bed and sleep it off."

"I dare say," said Mr. Billing, with cold dignity, as he paused at the
door--"I dare say I may give up beer altogether."

He stood outside pondering over the unforeseen difficulties attendant
upon his new career, moving a few inches to one side as Mr. Ricketts, a
foe of long standing, came towards the public-house, and, halting a yard
or two away, eyed him warily.

"Come along," said Mr. Billing, speaking somewhat loudly, for the benefit
of the men in the bar; "I sha'n't hurt you; my fighting days are over."

"Yes, I dessay," replied the other, edging away.

"It's all right, Bill," said a mutual friend, thro