Next morning I went to see Evans, and left him in good time to meet my father at the stated hour. But an evil spirit of dawdling seized me as I went. I stopped to gaze into shops, to chat with a passing acquaintance, and to have my boots blacked. Forgetting the passage of time altogether, I strolled leisurely along, stopping at the slightest temptation, and prolonging my halts as if reluctant to advance, when suddenly I heard the deep bell of Westminster clock chime a quarter. "A quarter past eleven," thought I; "I must look sharp." And I did look sharp, and reached the place of appointment out of breath. My father was at the door. His face was clouded, and his hand trembled as he laid it on my shoulder, and said, "Charlie, will _nothing_ save you from ruin?" "Ruin!" said I, in amazement; "what do you mean? What makes you so late?" "Late! it's not half-past yet; didn't you tell me half-past eleven was the time?" "I did; and it is now just half-past twelve! The post you were to have had was filled half an hour ago by one of the other applicants." I staggered back in astonishment and horror. Then _it_ flashed on me that I had dawdled away an hour without knowing it, and with it the finest opening I ever had in my life. I must pass over the next two years, and come to the conclusion of my story. During those two years I entered upon and left no less than three employments--each less advantageous than the former. The end of that time found me a clerk in a bank in a country town. In this capacity my besetting sin was still haunting me. I had several times been called into the manager's room, and reprimanded for unpunctuality, or cautioned for wasting my time. The few friends who on my first coming to the town had taken an interest in me had dropped away, disgusted at my unreliable conduct, or because I myself had neglected their acquaintance. My employers had ceased to entrust me with any commissions requiring promptitude or care; and I was nothing more than an office drudge--and a very unprofitable drudge too. Such was my condition when, one morning, a telegram reached me from my mother to say--"Father is very ill. Come at once." I was shocked at this bad news, and determined to start for London by the next train. I obtained leave of absence, and hastened to my lodgings to pack up my few necessaries for the journey. By the time I arrived there, the shock of the telegram had in some way abated, and I was able to contemplate my journey more calmly. I consulted a time-table, and found that there was one train which, by hurrying, I could just catch in a quarter of an hour, and that the next went in the afternoon.