"He went on Sunday to the church, and sat among the boys," and, on Monday, to the drill-room, to forget his heart-felt contrition, and to accept, to his ruin, the "oft proffered" whisky. He went from bad to worse. The choice plants nurtured with such care were sold to pay the rent. The prize fowls followed, leaving the backyard and ingeniously constructed outhouses, once so animated, desolate and silent as the grave. The old clock that had stood "ninety years" and more, in humble homes on the Border, vanished; dark, curious-wrought furniture, once so oiled and cared for, followed suit.
Friends who loved the old couple exerted their utmost to save them. Well-meaning people dragged the old man to temperance meetings, and compelled him, when he knew not what he did, to "sign the pledge"; others secured his "conversion" in similar mood, and with like result. Alec thanked his friends, went out—and had "a liquor up."
Frank Brown spent many an hour in seeking to make Alec soberer of habit, and Jinnie sweeter in temper.
One sweltering afternoon the young clergyman dropped in as he passed, regarding with sorrow the desolation that reigned around. Jinnie sat repairing a pair of the old soldier's pants.
"Never too late to mend," remarked the visitor brightly, as he observed that already the garments consisted more of patch than of pristine propriety.
"It is 'too late' at least for my old man to mend," replied Jinnie with a deep sigh. "Look at him there—the beast!"
Stretched on the sofa, last remaining joy of the once good stock of furniture, the warrior lay. Only a shirt covered his still muscular frame. He had found the
