James went immediately, surprised at this unusual message. When he got into the kitchen of the public house, which he now entered for the first time in his life, though it was just opposite to the house in which he lived, he was shocked at the beastly disgusting appearance of every thing he beheld. There was a table covered with tankards, punch-bowls, broken glasses, pipes, and dirty greasy packs of cards, and all over wet with liquor; the floor was strewed with broken earthen cups, old cards, and an EO table which had been shivered to pieces in a quarrel; behind the table stood a crowd of dirty fellows, with matted locks, hollow eyes, and faces smeared with tobacco; James made his way after the tapster, through this wretched looking crew, to a settle which stood in the chimney-corner. Not a word was uttered, but the silent horror seemed to denote something more than a mere common drunken bout. What was the dismay of James, when he saw his miserable master stretched out on the settle, in all the agonies of death! He had fallen into a fit; after having drunk hard best part of the night, and seemed to have but a few minutes to live. In his frightful countenance, was displayed the dreadful picture of sin and death, for he struggled at once under the guilt of intoxication, and the pangs of a dying man. He recovered his senses for a few moments, and called out to ask if his faithful servant was come. James went up to him, took him by his cold hand, but was too much moved to speak. "Oh! James, James," cried he in a broken voice, "pray for me, comfort me." James spoke kindly to him, but was too honest to give him false comfort, as it is too often done by mistaken friends in these dreadful moments. "James," said he, "I have been a bad master to you--you would have saved me, soul and body, but I would not let you--I have ruined my wife, my children, and my own soul. Take warning, oh, take warning by my miserable end," said he to his stupefied companions: but none were able to attend to him but James, who bid him lift up his heart to God, and prayed heartily for him himself. "Oh!" said the dying man, "it is too late, too late for me--but you have still time," said he to the half-drunken, terrified crew around him. "Where is Jack?" Jack Brown came forward, but was too much frightened to speak. "Oh, wretched boy!" said he, "I fear I shall have the ruin of thy soul, as well as my own to answer for. Stop short! Take warning--now in the days of thy youth. O James, James, thou dost not pray for me. Death is dreadful to the wicked--Oh, the sting of death to a guilty conscience!" Here he lifted up his ghastly eyes in speechless horror, grasped hard at the hand of James, gave a deep hollow groan, and closed his eyes, never to open them but in an awful eternity.