For the time I lost all respect for Leo Bergin. To deliberately rob a confiding employer is reprehensible, and if Leo Bergin in this had not shown himself a thief, he had betrayed an entire lack of a sense of proportion. This was one side of Leo Bergin's character. But lapses, my brothers, do not establish total depravity, for it is reported "of old" that a gentleman, on a very serious occasion, prevaricated on a very potent fact, and when confronted, "he denied." When pressed, "he denied with an oath," and yet this gentleman has been kindly remembered and well spoken of. TEMPESTUOUS. The wind increased in violence. It was a wild night. The blue Mediterranean was angry, but the good ship plunged ahead like a defiant monster. For two days more, the decks were unoccupied save by the careless sailors. The tables looked "lonesome," for the storm still raged in fury. The hours and the days, that seemed like weeks and months, wore away. We rounded Cape Vincent, when immediately the wind ceased, the sea was calm, the ship rode smoothly, the air was balmy, and the passengers, like a section of the morning of resurrection, appeared plentifully upon the broad clean decks, and were happy. [Illustration: _The Right Hon. R. J. Seddon, P.C., LL.D., Prime Minister, Colonial Treasurer, Minister of Defence, Minister of Education and Minister of Labour. For over eleven years the sturdy Leader of the most progressive democracy of all the ages._] Leo Bergin also appeared on deck. His smile was feeble, his grasp was languid, but he spoke earnestly of beef-steak and coffee, and I felt that he was--"better." Old Cadiz had been passed, and he had evidently concluded to try some climate other than the one previously suggested. We sat--we chatted. I was to leave the ship at Lisbon, finishing my journey by the next steamer. He?--I did not know. Strange, when we do people a favour we at once feel an interest in them. Possibly we feel somewhat responsible for such an one's conduct. Possibly, too, and more likely, we desire their success, that we may take to ourselves a little credit for a "happy career." I had done Leo Bergin a favor, was interested in him, and asked as to his "future." His glance was friendly, his smile doubtful; he drew his chin lower on his bosom, drummed on a book with his gloved fingers, and said, "Well, I have made an acquaintance with a mysterious personage. I have talent, good looks, and ambition, but I am an outcast, and I am going on a new venture. You know the Folder episode, and, to be frank, after a serious review of the case, I question the propriety of my action, and now that the money is gone, I have many qualms of conscience." I was not a little surprised, but I was glad to discover that he believed himself to have a little conscience, for as "conscience does make cowards of us all," I hoped for his reform.