still in their proper places. The two or three dingy prints on the
walls, originally misrepresentations in flaring colours of scriptural or
other scenes, hung in various degrees of crookedness; while articles of
clothing, old and new, dirtier and less dirty, were scattered about in
all directions, or suspended, just where necessity or whim had tossed
them. There was on the available portion of the table part of a loaf of
bread, a lump of butter still half-wrapped in the dirty piece of
newspaper which had left some of its letters impressed on its exposed
side, a couple of herrings, a mug half-full of beer, and two or three
onions. And in the midst of all this chaos, on one side of the grate,
which was one-third full of expiring ashes, and two-thirds full of dust,
sat James Barnes in his railway porter's dress and cap, looking
exceedingly crestfallen and unhappy.

"Good evening, Jim," said Thomas Bradly, making his way to the fire-
place, and taking a seat opposite to Barnes; "I was sorry to hear bad
news."

"Yes, bad indeed, Thomas--you've heard it, I see. Yes, they've given me
the sack; and what's to be done now, I'm sure I don't know. Some
people's born to luck; 'tain't my case."

"Nay, Jim," cried the other, "you're out there: there's no such thing as
luck, and no one's born to good luck. But there's an old proverb which
comes pretty near the truth, and it's this, `Diligence is the mother of
good luck.' I don't believe in luck or chance myself, but I believe in
diligence, with God's blessing. It says in the Bible, `The hand of the
diligent maketh rich.'"

"Well, and I have been diligent," exclaimed Jim: "I've never been away
from my work a day scarcely. But see what a lot of children I've got,
and most of them little 'uns; and now they've gone and turned me off at
a moment's notice. What do you say to that? Isn't that hard lines?"

"It ain't pleasant, certainly, Jim; but come, now, what's the use of
fencing about in this way? Jim Barnes, just you listen to me. There's
not a pleasanter chap in the town than yourself when you're sober--
everybody says so, from the vicar down to Tommy Tracks. Now it's of no
use to lay the blame on the wrong shoulders. You know perfectly well
that if you'd have let the drink alone things would never have come to
this, and you wouldn't have been living now in such a dirty hole. But
I'm not come down here, Jim, to twit you with what's done, and can't be
undone now. If