him blush; but he immediately turned his back to me and finished the perusal at the window. At the second, I saw him, once or twice, raise his hand and hurriedly pass it across his face. Could it be to dash away a tear? When he had done, there was an interval spent in clearing his throat and staring out of the window, and then, after whistling a few bars of a favourite air, he turned round, gave me back the letters and silently shook me by the hand.
"I've been a cursed rascal, God knows," said he as he gave it a hearty squeeze, "but you see if I don't make amends for it—G—d d—n me if I don't!"
"Don't curse yourself, Mr. Hattersley; if God had heard half your invocations of that kind, you would have been in hell long before now—and you cannot make amends for the past by doing your duty for the future, in as much as your duty is only what you owe to your Maker, and you cannot do more than fulfil it—another must make amends for your past de-
