mills. Now, however, his own folly had put the match to the manager’s smouldering dislike, and he saw himself, in consequence, discharged and black-listed, and perhaps roaming for months in quest of a job. He knew the efficiency of that far-reaching system of defamation whereby the employers of labour pursue and punish the subordinate who incurs their displeasure. In the case of a mere operative this secret persecution often worked complete ruin; and even to a man of Amherst’s worth it opened the dispiriting prospect of a long struggle for rehabilitation.
Deep down, he suffered most at the thought that his blow for the operatives had failed; but on the surface it was the manner of his failure that exasperated him. For it seemed to prove him unfit for the very work to which he was drawn: that yearning to help the world forward that, in some natures, sets the measure to which the personal adventure must keep step. Amherst had hitherto felt himself secured by his insight and self—control from the emotional errors besetting the way of the enthusiast; and behold, he had stumbled into the first sentimental trap in his path, and tricked his eyes with a Christmas—chromo vision of lovely woman dispensing coals and blankets! Luckily, though such wounds to his self—confidence cut deep, he could apply to them the antiseptic of an unfailing
humour; and before he had finished dressing, the pic-
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