"True, Thomas, we must leave it there; and we may be sure that all will work together for the furtherance of the good cause in the end." "I've not a doubt of it, sir; but for all that, I mean to keep a bright look-out. I'm not afraid of their trying their games with me; it's Barnes and Foster as they mean to pay off if they can." That same evening James Barnes knocked at Bradly's Surgery door, and closed it quickly after him. There was a scared look in his eyes; his dress was all disordered; and, worse still, he brought with him into the room an overpowering odour of spirits. Poor Thomas's heart died within him. Alas! was it really so? Had the enemy gained so speedy a triumph? "So, Jim, you've broken, I see," exclaimed Bradly sorrowfully. "The Lord pardon and help you!" "Nothing of the sort," cried the other; "I've never touched a drop, Thomas, since I signed, though a good big drop has touched me." "What do you mean, Jim?" asked Bradly, greatly relieved at the tone of his voice. "Are you sure it's all right? Come, sit down, and tell me all about it." "That I will, Thomas; it's what I've come for. You'll easily believe me when I tell you," he continued, after taking a seat, "that they've been at me every road to try and get me back, badgering, chaffing, threatening, and coaxing: it's strange what pains they'll take as is working for the devil. But it wouldn't act. Well, three or four nights ago, when I got home from my work, I found two bottles on my table. They was uncorked; one had got rum, and the other gin in it. Now, I won't say as my mouth didn't water a bit, and the evil one whispered `Just take a glass;' but no, I wasn't to be done that way, so I lifts up a prayer for strength, and just takes the bottles at once out into the road, and empties them straight into the gutter. There was some looking on as would let the enemy know. So to-night, as smooth ways wouldn't act, they've been trying rough 'uns. Four of my old mates, Ned Taylor among 'em, watches when my missus went off to the shop, and slips into the kitchen where I was sitting. They'd brought a bottle of rum with them, and began to talk friendly fashion, and tried might and main to get me to drink. But I gave the same answer--I'd have none of it. Then one of them slipped behind my chair, and pinned me down into it, and Ned Taylor tried to force my mouth open, while another man held the bottle, ready to pour the rum down my throat. But just then our little Bob, seeing how roughly they were handling me, bolted out into the street, screaming, `They're killing daddy! They're killing daddy!' So the cowardly chaps, seeing it was time to be off, took to their heels, all but Ned Taylor. He'd taken the bottle of rum from the man as held it, and he took and poured it all down my coat and waistcoat, and said, `If you won't have it inside, you shall have it out;' and then he burst out into a loud laugh, and went after the rest of them. If you examine my