“God have mercy on me!” said the man, as he sat down on the form by the table. Zachariah touched him gently, and pushed the plate and jug to him. He looked at Zachariah, and without saying a word, devoured it greedily. He just had time to finish, for the landlord, entering the room, roughly ordered them to turn out. Out they went accordingly. “The Lord in heaven curse them!” exclaimed Zachariah’s companion when they were in the road. “I could have ripped ’em up, every one of ’em. My wife is in bed with her wits a-wandering, and there a’nt a lump of coal, nor a crumb of bread, nor a farthing in the house.” “Hush, my friend, cursing is of no use.” “Ah! it’s all very well to talk; you’ve got money maybe.” “Not much. I too have no work, no lodging, and I’m driven away from home. Here’s half of what’s left.” “What a sinner I am!” said the other. “You wouldn’t think it, to hear me go on as I did, but I am a Methodist. The last two or three days, though, I’ve been like a raving madman. That’s the worst of it. Starvation has brought the devil into me. I’m not a-going to take all that though, master; I’ll take some of it; and if ever I prayed to the Throne of Grace in my life, I’ll pray for you. Who are you? Where are you going?” Zachariah felt that he could safely trust him, and told him what had happened. “I haven’t got a bit of straw myself on which to put you; but you come along with me.” They walked together for about half a mile, till they came to a barn. There was a haystack close by, and they dragged some of the dry hay into it. “You’d better be away from these parts afore it’s light, and, if you take my advice, Liverpool is the best place for you.” He was right. Liverpool was a large town, and, what was of more consequence, it was not so revolutionary as Manchester, and the search there for the suspected was not so strict. The road was explained, so far as Zachariah’s friend knew it, and they parted. Zachariah slept but little, and at four o’clock, with a bright moon, he started. He met with no particular adventure, and in the evening found himself once more in a wilderness of strange streets, with no outlook, face to face with the Red Sea. Happy is the man who, if he is to have an experience of this kind, is trained to it when young, and is not suddenly brought to it after a life of security. Zachariah, although he was desponding, could now say he had been in the same straits before, and had survived. That is the consolation of all consolations to us. We have actually touched and handled the skeleton, and after all we have not been struck dead. {132} “O socii, neque enim ignari sumus ante malorum, O passi graviora, dabit Deus his quoque finem. Vos et Scyllæam rabiem penitusque sonantes Accestis scopulos; vos et Cyclopia saxa Experti. Revocate animos, moestumque timorem Mittite; forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit.”