v: ^ /2 ^M ^/. '^ w .->■ rl* o / M IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1: liU iio IM 2,2 1.8 Photographic Sciences Corporation // ^ /<^. 1-25 1.4 III 1.6 ^ 6" ► m iV iV ^9) 6^ r^^ y 23 WTST VAIN STREET WEBSTER, rC.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 .*. CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVi/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and BiDliographic Notes/ Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. L'Institut a microfilmti le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographiqiie, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mithode normale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. W □ n D □ Coloured covers/ Couverture de uouleur Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul6e Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autro que bleue ou noire) □ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ot de la distortion le long de la marge int6rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans !e texte, metis, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont pas dt6 filrndes. D D D □ n n Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommagdes Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages d^tachdes Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of print varies/ Quality in^gale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du matdriel supplementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont eti filmdes d nouveau de fapon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. n Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppldmentaires; This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ C« document est film^ au taux de reduction indiquA ci-desisous. lOX 14X 18X 22X 28X »X 7 ' 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X lire details 168 du modifier ler une filmage les The copv filmed here ha* been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Library of the Public Archives of Canadn The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and In keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies In printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated Impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or Illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or Illustrated Impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —^-(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire film* Vut reproduit grAce A la gAnArosIt* de: La bibliothAque des Archives pubiiques du Canada Les images suivantes ont «t« reproduites avec le plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet* de l'exemplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est ImprimAe sont fllm«s en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant solt par la dernlAre page qui comporte une emprelnte d'impresslon ou d'lllustratlon. soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmto en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernlAre page qui comporte une telle emprelnte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE". le symbols V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre fllmte A des taux de reduction diff Arents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich«, il est film* A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite. et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessalre. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. errata I to ) pelure, on d n 32X 1 8 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 "?) I j (8_ JOHN m FLUNKY' -oxanu,KK...,.vou.s.,.on.K,..KK.u.v..n..K.. N ^"^^^ '^^" "AmNKSS OK OUK COUNTRY. BY GEORGE RASHLEIGH. -•*• A. S. WOODBURN. 7' JOHN THE FLUNKY, By George Rashleigh. CHAPTER I. OHN was the third son of William G of the county of Cornwall, England, who had earned a wide reputation of being in i)ossession of two dia- metrically opposing accomplishments ; one as the best blacksmith, then, in the county, the other as the most confirmed drunkard. A short account of this reoiarkable man s life, will be sufficient to create within us an interest in the life of our hero. William G was the eldest son of James G the smith of the village of St. Neot, with whom he worked learning his trade, until his eighteenth year. At this early age the father and son were often known to become intoxicated through seeking mutual pleasure from the same evil source, and the sorrowful result often was, immoral scenes and disturbances between sire and son. During the last of those unnatural convulsions William G , in the smithery, clenched a hammer and threw it at his' father striking him on the head. He fell apparently insensible, but really dead ; and thereby William, became at the early age of eighteen years, his father's murderer. Oh ! reader, what a truly horrible position to stand in tor one moment, imagine yourself as the murderer of your parent, the corpse of your victim stretched out before you the ghastly eye of death staring at you, and the gallows awaiting your penitent tread, in order that it may let loose Its trap and hurl you into eternity, there to stand and hear the awful sentence of your God. Immediately on realizing the terrible result of his action, TOn\ T»F. FI.rNKV. he cxpcricnred one of those revolutions, which we have often heard victims to intoxication describe ; he at once became sober and with it the instinct of self-pieservation commanded him. For a moment he imagined himself on the scaffold witnessed with horror by thousands ; but as (|uick as a flash of lightning the instinct said : " Save thyself from the hang- man, and from the odium of being thy father's niurderer ! " The (juestion came : " What am I, oh ! what am I to do? " Satan replied : - " No one has seen thee ; run into the street, and cry aloud, that your father has fallen drunk over the anvil and the blow has killed him, arid who will dare to con- tradict or disbelieve you ? ' Seeing no other possible way of escape, he ran into the street and cried out, with a voice which pealed forth like the voice of a madman, " My father ! My father I He has fell ! He has fell ! and is dead ! Oh come and help ! For the sake of heaven, come ! Oh come ! Come ! " In an instant, it appeared as if the whole village were rushing to the smithery, to behold the ghastly remains of the late village smith. Slain by whom ? By the hand of his own son. Through what influence? Through the iufluence of strong drink, the curse of this and of every other land. The villagers all naturally turned to VVilliam (1 for an explanation of the sudden death of his father, which he gave in the following manner. " Father and I went down yonder, to Mrs. I .obb's, of the Blue Lion, to 'ave a pot of beer, to quench our thirst, for the day 'as been hawful 'ot, and we got down there, we met F'armer Cowley, who was putty well on, and going at it, at a terrible rate, about some taxes the (lovernment 'as been putting on malt, the stuff that the beer his made from, as you know, and we putty well agreed with Farmer Cowley, and thought 'twas not right nor fair, that Hinglishmen should 'ave their beer taxed to keep up the ( lovernment, so we hall got putty well worked hup, talking about the (juestion, and father drinked putty many good long 'uns to the death of the d — d Government which 'ad taxed our beer. I agreed with the hold man and Farmer Cowley, but did not get hat it has 'ard has the hold man. So after the big question was putty well discussed, and we all putty well agreed hon it, we got hup to go back to woii., when I found the hol^ man 'ad got fl JOHN THK FirNKV. aboard a big cargo, but I 'as seen 'iin many a time with a bigger one, so I thought it wouhl come out hallright. has it 'ad done many a time before, so I got 'im back to the shop, and vvhen we got here, he got at the malt tax (juestion again, and said hif it was true the (lovernnient '.id done hit, we could not 'ave hour right allowance, and this would come d d hard and tough too, and he would rather go to h II and (I -mnation, than be kept has 'ard and tough has hall that ; because ha Hinglishman can't do without 'is beer, and what was the d -d (lovernment going to do, going to send hus all to h '1 he s'pose. Just has he 'ad fmished speaking, and he was in errible rage, he fell over the anvil. His 'ead struck on the ground, and now you know the rest.' Here William *'• — fell int' a state of grief, expressed by convulsive crie of bitter .T^guish. This story no one tl )Ught of tjuestioning. All sympa- thised deeply with th* young man in the painful position in which he was now plac ed, having had to alone witness the death, so sudden and .sad, of his father ; and many were the whispers, " Was it a judgment fruui f lod, punishing him whilst in the act of using such blasjjhemy?" It was only ^oo true that he had utiered blasphemous language, and it was also only too true that the yoi.ng man should have told this sympathi.>>ing assembly of St. Neot's villagers, that it was he who had thrown that fearful blow which had hurled his father's soul into eternit), that it was Mrs. Lobb's beer of the Hlue Lion which had excited them to the (juarrel, and conseciuently himself to the fatal act ; an act, which, if biblical doctrine be true, had ca.st his father's soul into eternal and everlasting damnation. His only reconciliation or atonement, to confess and suffer before the bar of justice of his country and at the foot-stool of the throne of his (lod. Of all heartrendering scenes, the most unbearable, is to witness a number of persons young and old, mother, wife and children suddenly jjlaced before the corpse of the one, above all others, instinct, nature and every other conceivable or construable cause had compelled them to love, ofien to adore, to look to for their daily bread, to meet every morn- ing, to part from every night, to hope to live with them now and for ever, and to die for if necessary. Ihen all in a JOHN THE FI.UNKV. moment to ga/.e upon that object of love and hope, lifeless, stiff and cold in death. There lies my hope, my love, my life, my children's bread, cries the aching, crushed, wretched and ever watchful mother's heart. The children at first stare in bewilderment at, to them, the utter inconceivability of the scene, and then break out in frantic cries, throwing u]) their little hands, eyes and hearts, as it were to heaven, 'i'heir hands dro[), their eyes droop, another gaze at the same lifeless form ; a tremor is seen to pass through their little frames, and then a gushing roaring storm of cries peals forth, the little feet leap from the earth, the hands go tearing through the hair, the little features become distorted, and then with another wild united scream, they throw themselves around their dear, dear mamma. Her clothes a;"^ clenched, her grief-stricken frame is seen to roll and totter from the force of the loving onslaught. Then breaks forth a peal of horror stricken voices, as if it were the crashing of the thunder from the distant dark and dismal clouds. It is the villagers of St. Neot, in a state of horrification, beholding the wife, the mother and her children, rolling upon and wetting with their flowing tears the — oh ! the — yes, yes, the mur- dered corpse of her husband, of their father. Such was the scene, at the smi';hery of St. Neot. An intjuest was a short time after held upon the body, when the jury returned the following verdict : "That James (i , of the ))arish of St. Neot, of the County of Cornwall, of the United Kingdom of Creat Britain and Ireland, had been accidentally killed, by falling over an anvil, while in a state of intoxication." Two days from the time, this sad verdict was rendered, a large and mournful assemblage was seen at the home of the late village smith, met there to i)erform the last sacred duty to all that was mortal, of the late James G . The coffin was placed, and carried u])on the shoulders of six of St. Neot's most prominent villagers, followed by a long line of mourners, headed by Mrs. James () , accompanied by her son William ; and he conscious of being the one, who, had his father slain. They bent their way to the church, where the funeral service was read, and a short sermon given by the rector, on the life and death of their lamented fellow villager. JOHN IHK ILUNKV. 'I'he substance of the discourse was as follows :— "Members of my dear and beloved flock, we have to-day before us, one of the saddest events, that has ever occurred in our village. There before us, within that casket, is all that mortally remains, of one of our most respected villagers, who, but three short days ago, was in the full enjovment of health, hoi)mg, no doubt, to live a long and happy life, enjoymg many more years within the bosom of his family ; but now cut short and to be on earth no more ; gone, gone, to where we dare not say. Ob ! my beloved flock, I hope this tragic end, of a life known to all of you, will be a warn- ing to every one of you. 'I'hat it will teach you and cause you to avoid that terrible evil, now leading so many of our countrymen, and I regret to say, numbers of our villagers, to a sad and early grave. Oh think of this dear and bereaved family, deprived of husband, protector and father ; thrown upon the world, helpless ; all through this world wide curse. Oh! I pray, and beseech you, to hoard the scene of this day within your memories, and its feelings, within the depths of your hearts ; and may it change your course, and save you and your dear families, from such a truly melan- choly end. Amen. " The coffin was again lifted to the shoulders of the pall- bearers, borne to the churchyard, and then to the cold, cold grave, where the last rites were performed, and then low- ered into the earth, there to remain until the great and awful judgment day The sorrowing concourse turned and wen'.ed their wax- back to the late village smith's house. Oh ! what a sad home it was now found to be. In [)lace of bright and happy taces, nothing appeared but gloom and desi)air, and the utmost dre.id of the future. Particularly was this to be seen in the face of W. G . 8 JOHN THE FLUNKY, CHAPTER 11. E will now trace the steps William (i took in life, until the birth of the hero of our story. At first he thought of remaining at home, to work at the business and so help his mother, brothers, and sisters ; but every time he entered the smithery, his murdered father's image appeared, to rise before his distemi)ered vision, until, at last, he could no longer enter that — to him— dreadful place. So after three weeks of the most intense excitement and misery, he decided to leave home, and endeavour to seek repose of mind, by being away from the scenes of the dreadful past. Having come to this natural determination, he informed his poor — and now to be — wretched mother, brothers and sisters, of what he had determined to do. On hearing this, their grief w^as so intense and painfully apparent, that it becomes quite indescribable ; for it was taking away their last hope of sustainment, and nothing but starvation and the workhouse, or a lingering death now stared them in the face, as their only future hope and prospect. But there is often assistance given by an unseen Caretaker, and so it was with this despairing family. Notwithstanding all this, he persisted in his determination, and consequently left his native home, which had become to him so intolerable, and previous to this sad event, had been so dear. After many days spent in travelling, he came to St. Ives, a town situated on the coast of Cornwall, and famous for its inexhaustible fisheries. Here he hired with the town blacksmith as journeyman, for j£i per month, board and lodging. For some months he kept himself entirely clear from the temptations of intoxicating lic[uors ; but the winter months coming on, and with them salt pilchards for break- fast, and very often for dinner, and also for tea ; a fish which John the flunky. the coast of Cornwall is famed for producing, particularly so, in the vicinity of St. Ives, and of which the Cornish people are ecjually famed for consuming large cjuantities; as it is usual for them to salt down an immense number for winter food, being the most inexpensive arcticle of food that their county produces, often being as low in price as sixpence per hundred in number. William (i found that his mistress wanted to board him cheaply, but with her cheap salt pilchards, came a dry and thirsty throat, accom- panied by his old longing for something stronger than Adam's Beer. He bein' a good workman, the town smith gave him all the chance possible ; but after some months of the utmost patience, his employer found himself compelled to discharge him. He now had to try another start in life, which he did, making promises, and forming resolutions within himself, that he would know better, and act at cordingly in the future. ^Ve will pass over a few years of his life ; merely mentioning that the interval was passed in precisely the same way as we have seen him at St. Ives ; constantly making and renewing resolves of good behaviour and improvement, and just as unremittingly breaking them. We now find him at Delabole, an inland town of Cornwall, known as having the best and largest slate quar- ries in the British Isles, and possibly in the world. These cjuarries were owned by one Thomas Avery, famed for his immense wealth ; but infamous for being the most sensual old bachelor, in the county. I'here is an anecdote told in this neighborhood, concerning him, which perhaps will serve as a correct illustration of the despicabl'^' character of this vile old man. One day he was taking a walk, and in crossing over a bridge, he met a bright looking little boy. Taking notice of him, he stopped him, and said : " whose son are you my boy?" The boy looked up and in manly tones, replied : " Tom Avery's, sir." He put his hand into his pocket, took out a crown, and said : " here my boy." The boy accepted it, and replied by saying : " thank you, sir," touched his hat in respect to the donor, and passed on, not having the slightest idea that he teid been s[)eaking to his father. Such and worse, was Jhomas Avery. 10 JOHN THi; ILUNKV. ^\ illiain CI had been employed at the (juarries for two years in the smithery ; and for some time past had conducted himself in a very sober and proper manner. It had for a long time been conceded that he was by far the best workman in the shop ; and now that he was conducting himself in confirmed sobriety, his employer, Tom Avery, decided to entrust the responsible charge of the smithery department entirely to him. It may be asked, in what way do you account for the truth of your statement, when saying, that his employer who was such an inveterate old scoundrel, so (juickly de- tected, the improvement in his employee's behaviour, and so handsomely rewarded him for it ? The answer is easily and readily found. It is a proven and undeniable fact, that employers, no difference what their own personal inclinations are, good or bad, are always ready, and are constantly awaiting the o}? lortunity to re- ward good conduct, on the part of theii servants ; their reasons being quite evident, that in doing so, they are im- proving and advancing their business, and thereby, adding, to t) leir own personal wealth, and advancement. William G having accepted the position, and con- ducted himself, in every other respect, in a judicious manner, soon became accepted and respected, by all the leading persons of the neighborhood. Consequently, he became introduced to Miss Hawk, the eldest daughter of Thomas Hawk, of Trededgel, one of the wealthiest farmers, and his family one of the most respected in the county ; they being in pos.session of, and owning sixteen landed estates, of no mean proportions. Miss Hawk was in all respects, a most estimable young lady, and at this time in her eighteenth year. She was of a good sound and practical temperament, possessing a thorough practical education, and not the education of flirtational accomplishments, which are so much admired by our fast young men, and are often so studiously, and expensively given, by our modern mothers. Hers hud been an education of practicability and domestica- tion, combined with an endowment, of natural common sense, giving man what he so much desires to see, and find in woman. And such arc the characteristics of our heroine. Having secured this introduction, and being now in a JOHN' THE FI.r.VKV 11 position to marry, he soon conceived the idea of wooing her, and accordingly commenced an undertaking \vhi( h always i)roves exciting to the young and charming, when successful to the winner. In *his case William (i was charmed, and our heroine the charmer. Having succeeded in winning this invaluable prize, he immediately made pre- parations, for the conclusion of the enterprise ; an enter- prise, which all loving hearts, will congratulate them in ac- complishing. Although very much against the majority of Miss Hawk's family's wishes, for they could not thmk, of a relative of theirs, being connected with a man, who (-ailed himself a mechanic. Vet, he had won this noble maidens heart, and all the appeals of her family concerning his occupation, and the certainty of being ostracised by her relatives could not make any impression upon her confiding and true heart. So the matter was decided, and the ceremony to be on her eighteenth birthday. On that day it was celebrated, and with it was opened up to her, a few years of pleasure, and then a long period of the most intense misery and agony, only slightly relieved by intermissions of con- solation. A week after the marriage, they returned to Delabole, and began their marriage life, in a very pleasant manner. At first tney rented a nice dwelling of six rooms, and fur- nished it in a complete and decorous style. He then com- menced to build a dwelling according to their own plans, and re(iuirements ; and in twelve months we find that they had erected, a commodious brick dwelling, which they imme- diately occupied ; and here they lived in respect, content- ment, and complete happiness, for the succeeding ten years, at which time John the hero of our story was born, and with his advent into the world commenced a new and sad era for his mother, who eleven years before, had so hopefully, and naturally pictured as her lot, as her endowment from heaven, a long life, with all the untold and unknown pleasures, that a loving and adoring husband, could possibly provide, and bestow upon her. Ah ])oor girl ! how sadly she was then and now de- ceived, our story has suggested and will but too plainly il- lustrate. She little knew what rested on his besmeared con- 12 JOHN IKK I'MNKV. science, and how that conscience was in its formation, like a volcano, liable to burst forth, and destroy everything within its destructive, combustible influence at any moment, and all who come within its reach, are scorched, and some- times buried beneath its crushing overwhelming discharges. iou\ iiir. niNKN. U CHAPTER III. ICH KS, from the earliest ages, have carried with them weight. i)restige and influence, regardless of the character of the possessor, and undoubtedly will continue to do so, for all time to come. 'I'homas Avery is now no more. The moralist would preach, that the event should be hailed with thank-offer- ings, to fmd that the world had been relieved, from one of its cruelcht mon.sters ; and according to the rules of morality, the moralist would be strictly correct. But not so at Delabole. The event is looked upon, and regarded among the town's people as the greatest calamity that could have possibly befallen them. He had left a very large fortune, but had died intestate. He also left, a very large unclaimed family. The con- sccjuence was, that no one exactly knew to whom, the l)roi)erty belonged. It was then thrown into chancery ; an action which immediately stopped all work at the duarries, until such time, as the court should come to a decision. William was, therefore, thrown out of employment, with heavy loss, which, in other words, caused him to sacrifice nearly all he possessed. 'I'he smithery and all of its applia- nces, now- belonged to him, and through the stoppage of the cjuarries became unproductive, almost useless, and therefore unsaleable at invoice prices, as they were only suitable to ([uarrying purposes. His only resource was to put them ujj to auction, which he did, and brought as might have been expected, about one-fourth of what they had cost. This caused him to be very much depressed in mind, so he became moody and morose, going sometimes for days together, and scarcely speaking to any one. As it is general- ly the case, that a person who speaks but little, thinks unre- mittingly, so it was with him. He began at first to think of his present misfortunes, and not being able to see at once, how he was going to repair them, he became despondent ; m 14 JOHN rnr i i.inkv and then the whole of his past and painful life, would rise before him. With this retrospect ranie remorse, and self- accusations, results which will always be produc ed by a troubled conscience. He then began to look around, and try to find some means to soothe his troubles and dispel his fears. This he would often do at the cost of his poor wife's happiness. Sometimes it would partake of fault-finding, when there were no faults really to be found. At other times he would in- dulge in disagreeable arguments. Poor woman I It would have been well for her, if his unkindness had stopped here ; but when disaffection once commences to exist in domestic life, there is no termination to its ever ceaseless heartburnings and intrigues ; and in this case particularly so, when the cause of it was possessed with a conscience, stained with the ineffaceable stain of his father's blood. He now took a new and desi)erate step to renew his fallen fortunes, a step which could not possibly help send- ing him to utter ruin ; but one which unfortunately is often taken by men, in a similar state of mind. At this time the landlord of the King's Arms of Dela- bole died, which caused the establishment to require a new proprietor, a position William (J determined to fill ; con- sidering it the most suitable enterprise conceivable, to recover what he had lost. His wife, and all his well disi)osed friends, were intense- ly energetic, in i)ersuading him, to relinf|uish this enter- prise ; f)ut he was not in the state of mind, to receive this well-meant, and sensible advice. The consequence was he became the landlord of the King's Arms, and Mrs. William (i the daughter of Thomas Hawk of Trededgei, its landlady. The deceased proprietor of this establishment, had grown rich, and died so, from the profits made, in this sometimes lucrative trade. His business was done, and his riches were made, when Delabole was seeing its golden days ; but now the working of the slate cjuarries having ceased, the place was thrown into the mo.st gloomy state imaginable, the quarries having been its great, and almost only industry. It may JUMN rilK FI.UNKV. 15 he illustrated by tint of a family, dciicndin^' upon the daily labour of one persc/n ; that |)ers()n is suddenly taken away by death or some other cause, their means of supi)()rt just as suddenly leave ihem, and they are left in a state ol abso lute want. So it was with iJelabole at this time. Its main arm had left it, or had ceased to produce, and all those who had been supported by it, found themselves in absolute want, therefore became very poor supporters, of li(|uor sel- ling establishments. So William (i — soon found that be had gone from bad to worse. He had invested all his capital in a business, that would barely pay expenses, and as times were still becoming worse, in all probability it would soon cease to l)ay even that ne<:essity to its e.xistence. He then decided to decrease his expen.ses, in a way, which to him, appeared the best conceivable, under the existing circumstances, and would certainly have been a very proper and commendable course, in any other business, or in the same business, provided he had been a man of different stuff from what he was composed of The inodm operandi was, that he should become his own bartender, in order to save that official's .salary and the little pickings, which those gentlemen are often credited with taking for private purposes. So he very wisely, in his own mind, concluded, that he would not in the future, permit one of those gentle- men to obtain the pleasurable opjjortunity, but would assume the office, and so partake of all the pleasures and profits connected with it, himself Poor fellow I He put his jjlan into operation, and he found amidst all his well meant decisions and re.solutions that he had made another, if possible, down hill step. Day after day he found the ever increasing in- fluences of the odours of that ofifice growing upon him and drawing him to destruction. He found its pleasures were unresistible, undeniable and ever penetrating his every thought. He pardoned the bartenders for their proverbial faults, and secretly wished that he had never known the secret of their pleasure. His last ray of hope was now gone. He at first sank his capital into the " King's Arms." He now found that he had sunk body and soul into it. 16 lOHN rill, II.INKN. (Jradually hut surely (mding that he was sinking lower and lower in the soiial grade, lower in all that may be deemed pure enjoyment, lower and still hnver as a man, in fa( t becoming the brute beast ; despondency again recurred to him with reflections of the past, until his life became a prey to strong drink accompanied by that degrading affliction, commonly known as the " horrors." Oh reader ! Imagine his poor wife, a few years before, sitting at her father's fireside, with all the comfort that a fond parent could i)Ossibly provide ; ])icture to yourself her fond hopes for the future when she met him, whom she believed to be her guardian and caretaker i)rovided for her by the decree of heaven ; imagine her for some few years of her married life, being happy with her husband and thank- ing her Creator for giving her such ; think of her bringing those dear little creatures into the world with all those hojjes and glorious ambitious predictions as to their future, which are so naturally indulged in by all good and Christian mothers, and imagine her now at the bedside with a drunken miserable sot, howling and cursing and wishing her soul in hell ; think of her being seized by the throat, and thrown into the dark and miserable streets, at midnight, amidst the screams of her frightened, but loving little ones ; then the police coming and arresting both him and her, throwing them into the dark dungeon of the police station for dis- turbing the public peace ; think of her then dragged before the magistrate to answer this charge, and to hear her describe her recent life with tears flowing as freely as a rivulet, the outflow of a loving but saddened heart ; and when asked, whence came all this trouble and domestic difficulty, to hear her pitiful, but old, old and too common reply. " It has come sir, from his indulging excessively in strong drink." This was the short, but true explanation of her present position. She was dismissed with words of heartfelt sympathy from the just and generous hearted magistrate, symjxithy which was sorely needed by her, in this her heart- rending distress ; whilst he was also discharged with words of admonition, and sternly warned not to so commit him- self again. Jhey now withdrew from the Court, and proceeded together down to the King's Arms ; one with all the feelings JOHN THK KLUNKV. 11 of a forsaKcn brute being eaten up by some awful demon, within whose grasp he was completely engulfed, without a prospect of being enabled to extricate himself; the other, with all the feelings of I'.espair and wretchedness that a loving and perfect woman would possess for the future of her dear little < hildren, and for the future of her once dear hus- band ; a future which she had now no command over ; a future which she could not possibly foresee, and which she dared not look into. All was now black and the prospect full of ilespair. They enter the King's Arms, and here was a meeting which 1 can scarcely dare to describe. A loving mother meets her children, all filled with the most intense distress, intensified with mutual love ; all spring and rush into each other's arms, prompted and driven by the mutual sympathy which exists within, and here nature breaks out and explodes, throwing out its bombshells of love until it Hows like the outlet of an immense cataract, and onward its torrent rushes and foams until the beloved mother is to be seen on her knees, dragged to the ground by the outburst of her children's love. William (J here enters. He asks "what the h— -11 they are all doing there?" He receives an answer of heartrending groans. He then pushes them, one falling one way, the other another, each child trying to hold its grasp to its mother, who was now lying rolling upon the floor, enfolding in her arms her infant child John, the hero of our story. He immediately rushed for- ward and grasped the child, wrenching it from its mother's arms, and swearing and cursing like a ferocious madman, he flung it sprawling upon the floor. ' This cruel and inhuman action drew forth, in the strongest conceivable degree, all the indignation that inhabits a true mother's breast at an injury to her offspring ; an indig- nation so intense, that it would be impossible to conceive or illustrate, without it was by such a mother who had ex- perienced such unmanly treatment, and in this instance can only be illustrated by describing the result of the cruel and dastardly action. Instantly on seeing her infant wrenched from her arms, and thrown as if it had been a reptile, she sprang to her feet, with glaring eyes and clenched teeth, and shaking with rage, 3 i.S I! IS (OJIN I'HI': I'l.UNKV. and expressing the deepest hat'" and scorn that could he felt and expressed by human form, she looked around her as if to find something wherewith she could put into practi- cal effect that horror and scorn which she so justly felt and expressed. Lying on the stove was a huge poker. Seizing it she Hew at him like a raging tiger, and with one blow on the crown of his head laid him low at her feet. There was a most dreadful scene, a view of which in practical reality 1 hoi)e none of my readers will ever witness or exi)erience. There were the i)Oor little children weeping with the utmost intensity of bitterness, frightened almost into madness by the horror of the scenes which they beheld, the scene of their father ill-treating them in the most unnatural manner ; seeing their mother laying him at her feet almost in death in their defence ; the scene of their mother thrown into such a dei)lorable rage, convulsed with resentment at the brutish treatment her children had been subjected to ; all of which appeared to their innocent, imaginative understanding equally unnatural. Such was the state of affairs when the neighbors came rushing in, and (juickly after them the doctor, to see what all this commotion meant. The doctor ordered the wounded, and deservedly so man to be taken to his room and placed in bed, where it was found that he had received a severe fracture of the skull, so severe that the doctor deemed it necessary to send for additional medical assistance, not caring to assume the whole res])onsibility, sowing that not only one life but two depended upon the result of his skill. Upon the arrival of his professional brother they imme- diately made an examination, and then held a consultation, from which the\- arrived at the conclusion that there was a slight ho))e of recovery, but a very precarious one, arising from the large (juantity of blood he had been suffered to lose before medical assistance came to his rescue, and the bad state of health he was then in, through the wretched habits he had of late been indulging. However, they resolutely went to work, with the determination to save him if possible, and after doing all that medical science could suggest or accomplish, they f(;und JOHN IHK FI.UNKV, 10 .'O to U awcMting their immediate attendance in an -, who had, as our story has informed other work adjoining apartment Mrs. W'ilUam ( i us, passed through one of the most exciting scenes that "s possible for human conception to imagine, had fallen in a fainting state upon the floor, from which she was taken and placed in bed by her sympathizing neighbors, who naturally supposed and hoped that it would be only a ([uestion of a few minutes before she would agp'.n be fully restored from what apparently, to them, was only a faintness which might be reasonably expected after having passed through such cruel torture. But oh ! how sadly they were mistaken ; instead of reviving there were sijns of something worse, of what they could not tell. I hey .aw a deep red colour constantly flashing across ard disappeatirg from her face ; tbey looked and looked, and anxiously encjuired one from the other in the most profound whispers. " Is she reviving?" IJut at last they saw the i)arched tongue and lips and they heard an e.xcited and bewildered voice cr) out " Water, water, I am so thirsty! (Hve me water I " At this cry they startled, and a whisper was heard to say "fever, oh ! she is surely and really in a fever." At the sound of this whis])er it appeared as if the correctness of it had, at once struck home to every heart. A unanimous cry at once arose for the doctors, for whom one of the party was immediately dis- patched to reciuest their attendance. They were found just completing their difficult task of dressing the wound of the unfortunate, but ji.stly punished man. They at once replied to the reijuest by following the messenger to the adjoining room which was at present occu- pied by Mrs. William G , and there found her in the most pitiable condition, so much so, that their professional hearts suddenly left them, and they could be seen weeping as children, declaring that in all their professional experience they had never witnessed such a sad scene as that which they were just witnessing in this doomed family. Here was a family who onh a few short months ago was living in, and enjoying all the happiness, comfort, social privileges and consecjuently all the pleasures that they could possibly recjuire, or wish for. A few months hail 20 JOHN THE KLUXKV. elapsed, and with it all those former pleasures had left them, Let us retrace for a few moments this apparent irreparable downfall. We first see this unfortunate man in such worldly difficulties as will beset all men, more or less, in fighting through the great and desperate battle of life, but instead of meeting them when they arose, with that manful resistance all true men should possess and act with in such cases, viz : to throw them aside and persist with all honorable integrity in the right and noble path ; he yielded to what undoubtedly too many of our fellowmen are daily yielding. Satan's tempter is always ready to offer to human minds when found in worldly degenerateness, ^ apparent easy, but dishonorable path to relieve themselvet^ m trouble, a path which is sure to lead sooner or later to utter ruin and desolation ; although sometimes saved at the last hour, shattered and wrecked upon the coast of life. \\c see him at first embarrassed, the nature of which the reader is perfectly acquainted with ; then in deep and reflective thought endeavoring to invent some means to recover what was lost ; w^e then find the tempter coming foKh and saying : " Follow me and I will lead thee to a path in which thou mayst recover all and more than all ; a path wherein you may become rich and happy without the slightest probability of anything disagreeable occurring. Come now with me and all the i)ast shall be forgotten, and thy future shall be one of riches combined with pleasure, for with riches pleasure is easily obtainable." Such was the temi;ter's plan of operation in this case, and well he succeeded, the bait took, and Willam G was duly installed as the landlord of the King's Arms. Here we see him sinking, degree by degree, into the depths of degradation, until he is seized and thrown, dragging his poor wife by his side, into the prison cells, and then to the low, cruel brute, using violence to his own infant offspring, driving one of the best and purest of women into such a desperate and calamitous condition, even to the threshold of being his murderess. He is now laid upon his bed, a helpless wreck, caused by the hand of his outraged wife ; we see her also lying JOHN THK FI.UNKV. 21 upon her bed pale and death-like, haggard and worn, then feverish bewildered and almost mad. We see their poor little helpless children, throwing forth frantic and excrucia- ting cries : we hear dear little John, a babe, just able to put forth the words "papa" and "mamma," calling and weeping for his mamma." Endearing little infant, not knowing or unable to comprehend, the shocking tragic act which had been so cruelly enacted, or the forlorn prospects which were now so clearly apparent before him. We find the house lull of enquiring neighbors, composed of a few truly svmiia- thetic ones ; but more largely of gossip seekers, and critical tault hnders, the town being almost convulsed by old chat- tering gossip mongers, going forth spreading and exag-'er- ating If possible, the calamity which had just befallen the lallen. ■f- I 22 loiiN riiK ii.rxKV. CHAPTER IV. |E now return to the family, and see how fortune favours them. .^^^ ^, It is two months since we left them amidst '^^ the deepest affliction. In the interval, kind friends had watched over them, and soothed their troubled souls, calmed their fears, taking ceaseless care of the children, which knowledge had more than anything assisted the re- (^overy of the pitiable mother. NN'hen the endearing little creatures entered the chamber in the morning to bid their mamma " good morning, " and again at night to wish her " good night, " and say their prayers, which they would do with all the cheerfulness of loving and happy childhood ; the poor woman would weep with joy, and offer up thanks to her great benefactor, for giving her such untold blessings, blessings which can be only realised, by a perfect mother in a similarly sad condition, and relieved by such loving con- solation. At the end of two months they were both enabled to get up a few hours every day, and were daily becoming stronger ; and there was every indication that they would be soon again ([uite well. At the expiration of four months, we find them entirely restored to health, and William (i thoroughly regener- ated from the drunken sot to a good and repenting christian, with a full determination that he would no longer remain surrounded by his former temptations. \\"\th this determination he commenced work, and as (juickly as ordinary business transactions would ))erniit, sold his interest in the King's Arm's, for about one half of what it had cost him. He left it a poorer man than he found it, but a far happier one : for amid the blessings of his family, and the unanimous congratulations of his friends, he could not otherwise be. Mrs. William Ci freely forgave the wrongs and JOHN' THE Fr.rXKV. 21] misery that he had caused her to endure, and made f)ut one request, viz. that they should all join, and offer up thanks to their heavenly Father, for having guided them through their many afflictions, and for having at last brought them safely out of that den of temptations. This recjuest was cheerfully complied with, and in their new but temporary home, they gathered their little family tog;ether, and kneeling, offered up their united thanks with a sincerity which can only be felt or expressed bv hum'anity that suffered and passed through a similar crisis. ' Thev had just escaped from the brink of the gulf of destruction,' hav- ing been drawn thither by intemperate influences ; they had just escaped from the abyss, and were again lirmly united in the bonds of love and peace. "Not so," says the tempter, "I will have you yet • resh and greater trials await you. ( lird up your loins 'for It will take all your boasted (lodly virtue, to withstand my reserve forces. ■' They now removed to Bodmin, the county town of Cornwall. Bodmin is a quiet but flourishing little inland town of some five thousand inhabitants, situated in the centre of a large mining district, and being the county town, the county jail IS necessarily located in it, and the county assizes held there. ^ The once more united family came here with the re- solve to endeavour to firmly rebuild their partially establish- ed hapi)mess. i j - Their family now consisted of William, lane, Thomas, Kate and John, aged respectively eleven, nine, six, four and two years, all too young to be really capable of assisting their i)arents in earning a livelihood. William (;— within three days after their arrival, ob- tained work at a mine in the vicinity, to erect boilers and other machinery, a mechanical operation in which it was well and widely known, he possessed a large amount of practical experience, obtained at I )elal)ole ; in fact so wide was his reputation for performing this work in an e.xception- ably able manner, that offers, and ai)plications came in for his services and advice, from the surrounding mines so hiWr^^' '^L^'""' ^''''''''^^' '''''^'^' '^ 1»^'^""" them himself. He then commenced to employ a number of 24 lOHN IHK Fl.l-N'KV. hands, giving his many contracts his constant personal atten- tion and supervision. Their eldest son William, like a gal- lant little fellow, asked his father's and mother's permission, to commence and help his father, which they reluctantly al- lowed him to do. In this united way, they continued for the succeeding nine years, all mutually assisting by every means they could possibly conceive. -So united and happy were they, that they had become to be considered and very justly so, one of the happiest families, in this pro'feperous little county town of Cornwall. rOHN- THK I'l.rN'KV, 25 tcn- gal- ion. ,' ai- ding mid that one own ' • CHAP'I'KR V. N the tenth year from the time of their coming to Bodmin, an accident of usual occurrence but one which proved very singular in its effects, occurred to William (1 . >Vhen engaged in repairing a large steam boiler, a scale of iron flew into his right eye, which scale he could not extract at the time. The pain ceasing, he took no further notice of it. A few months after the occurrence, the pain recommenced, and increased so much, that in a few weeks he could not see to work, and was compelled to seek that medical advice, which he should have sought before. His medical adviser found that a cataract was forming, and therefore advised him to at once obtain an admittance to the Truro Infirmary ; which advice he accepted, and succeeded in obtaining the necessary ticket of admission. Arriving at the infirmary, he was placed under an operation, when the cataract was removed. In performing the operation, the doctor's lancet slipped, carrying a part of the apple of the eye with it, which caused the loss of sight in the injured eye. This pained him very much, and resulted in weakening him to utter helplessness. The attendant doctor of the infirmary prescribed for his relief, among other medical remedies, a pint of (iuinness' Porter l)er day. This part of the prescription was no doubt, considered a trifling matter, and a perfectly harmless one, ])rescribed with the very best of intentions, in fact simply carrying out, one of the firmest rooted medical theories. But in this case, as our story will illustrate, it resulted in the ruin of a family, throwing shame upon their name, which it was impossible for them ever to eradicate. He remained in the infirmary for three weeks after the performance of the operation, and during this time his daily allowance of Guinness' was duly prescribed to him, and quite as duly put to the purpose for which the doctor ordered 2fi JOHN riri': fiunkv. it, and we may also add, more than duly fulfilling the pro- perties of its inlluenre. Day by day, as this (luinness' remedy was apjjlied, so, in immeasureahle depths was it renewing his old and natural craving for intoxicating stimulants. At the expiration of three weeks from the date of the oj)eration, he received his discharge from the infirmary, and with what results it is our sad duty now to describe. With the loss of sight in one eye, and weakened sight in the other, with a renewed craving and thirsty api)etite for intoxicating matter, he arrived home to his wife and children, a mere wreck and ruin of his former self. His sight would not jjcrmit him to work for some time, and his thirst would not permit hiin to rest. Armed with the doctor's prescri))tion, Mrs. William (1 , could not but consent to his taking the daily allow- ance of (luinness', fur to refuse, in face of such authority, would almost be et|uivalent to homi;ide, although positive, through )ears of painful experience, that every draught was simply a draught of hellish poison, and was once more l)aving the way toward the wreck and spoliation of her family's future happiness. So the daily portion of (luinness' was duly provided, under tiie name of medicine, and strictly understood to be such by the children ; for to their innocent mind, firmly impressed there, by their mother's pious and beautiful training and teaching, such a thing as intoxicating stuff to be allowed to enter their house, would be an unpardonable crime. A month ])assed in this way, and then he con- sidered himself capable of again commencing work. Obtaining a contract to erect some machinery at a new mine just commencing operations some twenty miles from Kodmin, he at once left home to carry out his contract, making the most solemn promises to his wife, that he would not under any circumstances exceed his (luinness' prcscrii)- tion ; and there is no doubt but what he made those i)romises with every intention of kee])ing and fulfilling them. Promise what he would, there was secreted in her heart the utmost dread and terror, of the (luinness' prescription, a dread which she found impossible to eradicate from her niind. It haunted her in her daily work. It haunted her in loiiv I'm: ii.rxKV 27 her sleep. It ajipeared tf) her in waking visions, and in midnight dreams ; until her whole mind was occupied and troubled with that terrible (luinness' prescription. About two weeks after his departure, she dreamt a most horrible and sickening dream, a dream full of frightful visions, and dreadful warnings of shocking events She saw in this dream, an immense monster, who had lived for many years, a terror to all that knew him, and secretly a terror to himself, in constant fear of his monstrous a ?" " Ves, sir, providing that you agree to his extending the confession, to a clergyman, in my ])resence. " "\'es, T will agree to that ; It would be only i)erfectly right. " " 'I'hank you, sir. " " Very good then. Now, Mrs. G- , I think it would be advisable, and far better, for you not to see your husband here. Poor unfortunate man, he is in such a very weak state, and is showing so much contrition, that I scarcely think he will ever live to receive the natural punishment of the law for his crime." " Do you think, sir, there are any hopes, for him, for eternity ? " " I do, providing that he is handled carefully, and kindly. I think, by what I can see of you, Mrs, G- , that you would be the proper person to take charge of that im- portant matter. Now do you agree with me, concerning the advisability of your not seeing him here ? " "I am willing to do whatever you consider best, sir." lOMN I'HF, I'MNKV 41 " Very good, then. I see it is almost time for me to go ; so 1 will tell you in as few words as possible, what I consider best. Vour husband will be brought before me, for examination at the court house, at two o'clock this afternoon ; which can onl) be in a mere formal manner, for the tacts are too well known to re(|uire anything further, and the coroner's jury having already returned a verdict of wilful murder against him, my only duty will be, to merely com- mit him to the Bodmin Assizes, under the same charge. But something needs to be done, before the examination in regard to the understanding which we have arrived at, con- cerning his early crime. " My best plan will be to leave at once, and have an interview with him, inform him of what we wish done, obtain a written confession from him of the occurrence of yesterday, so as to still shorten the ex- amination, leaving out all mention of that which we wish to keep secret. In the meantime, you had better take some lunch, and then order your carriage, and drive to your home. This news will spread, and I think your children will require your presence. In all probability your husband will arrive in Bodmin to-morrow. You will then be able to see him at your discretion. " Rising, he rang the bell, ordered his own carriage to be brought immediately, also lunch to be prepared for Mrs. G- , and her carriage as soon as she might require it. Then turning to her, he said : " I have now to wish you good- bye, and allow me to assure you that you have my heart- felt sympathy, and whenever you may recjuire my assistance in your no doubt difficult future, I am at your command. Pitiable woman ! Trembling, she rose. With a heart tumultuous with the most noble emotions -emotions which can only pour forth from a fountain whose springs are the purest and most sublime ! Humanely, it has no higher source than from the heart of a pure and godly mother ! Placing her hand in his, she said, " Sir, my teaching to my children has always been, to trust in God ; my last com- mand to them, before coming here, was to do so. I now see in you his angel of mercy. Permit me to thank you, from the utmost depths of my heart ; a heart now bereaved and filled with earthly dread and shame — a heart bleeding for the future of my worse than fatherless children— for the 42 lOHN THK ri.r\K\-. il! !■, I, I ' I I !l eternity of my worse than dead husband ! " IMaring her left hand to her heart, she said, "Accept the thanks and the blessings of this heart, for the kindness you have so nobly shown to this husband's wife, to those children's mother ! " These words spoken with all the energy and beauty of divine inspiration, ([uite melted Mr. IJanks. He could scarcely realise that it was humanity that had been speaking to him. He felt like sinking to the earth. He could not grasp sufficient courage at once to answer. At last regaining self-control, he said, " My good and noble woman, I accept your thanks ; and now, allow me to thank the fate of your unfortunate husband, of your worse than fatherless children, as through it you have been the instrument in saving me from a ilrunkard's grave! Now, good-bye, and maydod bless you ! "" He was(|uickly into his carriage, driving with all speed to the cell of William { 1 . Only one remark fell from his lips on the road ; when he said silently to himself, almost without knowing it, " I am a widower, without children. I am rich. I am not hapjjy. That woman is noble. She, and such as she only, can make a man happy," and on he went. JOHN mi; |.|,l'NKV, CHAI'TKR Ml. \ CH '^^.^^INC, at the police station, Mr. Banks inter- l^l^ viewed he prisoner, then conducted the examination, S^' u' ,r''^''';"^ precisely as he had portrayed to Mrs ^ >\ illiani (t . had ordered for her, and then entered her carriaue and five o clock m the evening. .Stepping out of her carriaua' le ins in.n 1 '" '^'^ '""' °' ''^^^'"^ ''^^' ''' '''^^^'^ ^^hcn rof Hn IhiI remembered what had happened at Tin <--rott. Hut still more astonished was she, when she heard whispers sa).ng, ''That is his mother." khe instinctive v tKouse'° 'S"' '"''^^ '^^'^ ^^•■^^•" ^^' -^ «"-^ entered l^s crowded Th'' '''^''''^''^- ^H was commotion. It floor Zll; /T J^^'-tP^'l'^emen. She looked on the floor, and she saw MW which sight chilled her to her very soul. She simply stood erek"sheV'^^r.r''^^ '''' "■'"• ' ^ thrillin'g, piercing shriek, she fell like an outstretched corpse upon the floor. noticed r i;^'' f ' ""'"'■"'^ '^' '■"°"^' '^^' "" «"e had noticed her ; little John was writhing with agony and there fore had not noticed her. So proiundly\rs' every one impressed with the probable results of the lacemti^'n that ttle John had received, that no one, not even her son Wil- am who was present, appeared to be moved as he would, under ordinary circumstances, have naturally been I! 44 ?OHN llll, lll'NKV. i|' Jane was called, who, on a|>|)earin^', and secin;,' who lay before her, was in the ad of ^^ivin^f, wiiat niighl have been expected, a scream, but was instantly stopped. One of the doctcjrs now stepped aside ; ar ' 'he faint- ing mother was borne into another room, where I ,aal re- medies were applied successfully. On regaining consciousness, she stared around the room wildly. Seeing no one, she cried : "oh my (led, spare my life for a little while, for the preservation of my husband's soul, my child, my children ! "' It was not until seven o'clock, that she entirely recov- ered from the intense fright, and was still in a very weak state. She knew something startling had fxcurred to her, and so began to make en(|uiries. 'The doctor in charge, had in the meantime ordered, that she was not to be allowed, under any circumstance, to see John, witht)ut his permission. .And when she felt sul'ti- ciently strong to see him, and wished to receive his instruc- tions, he was to be sent for. She was accordingly informed by her dau who was then instructed by her mother to send for hiui, which she did. He arrived at eight o'clock, and was at once shown into the room, where Mrs. William ( i was. On entering, he bowed. She rose, and said : "are you, sir, the gentleman who left instruc tions to the effect that )()U wished to see me." " I am, Mrs. (i !" 'i'aking a chair, she said : "be seated, sir, please." " I have a very lengthy communication to make to you Mrs. (i , 1 hope you are strong enough to hear it?" " I will do my best, sir." "('an I commence now?'' " \'ou can, sir.'' " Before I commence, it will be better to tell you, that it is a very startling, and it may prove a very serious affair, which I have to communicate to you. 1 )o you still think that you can listen with composure, in your present state, to a subject of that nature ?" " I will promise, sir." " By what I have been informed, your little boy, when loMN IIIM I I,UNkV. 4ft rL'turning from school, this aflcrnoon, had occasion to call into the railway work shop, and whon passitij; through the machine shoj), met a hoy, who ai)pears to ha\e known him. 'I'his hoy stopped him, and it is said, insultingly told him, that his father had killed a hoy at the Tin ("roft Mines, and that his father would now he hung. N'our ho)', naturally resenting such a remark ahout his father, llew into a passion, saying that if he dared say that again, ho woidd thmsh him, or words to that effect. The other then stepped up, and struck him. A scuffle ensued, when your hoy's arm osj une entangled in some of the machinery, I helieve it was in the belt of a drilling machine, which drew the arm right in around the wheels, the frame of the machine being witiiin the eighth of an inch of the wheel, ( ame in contact with the arm, antl so comi^letely tore the llesh, from the lleshy part of the arm to the elbo^v. 'i'he torn i)arts were covered with grease and chips of iron from the machine. 'I'here is a hole in the flesh, sufficiently large to receive my two fingers, from which I took chips of iron. In fact, it is the worst case of laceration, that I have ever met with in the whole of my experience." " Is he in danger ?" "I should not like to give a positive answer. There are certainly hopes." " What has become of the other boy?" " He is in prison." " In prison ?" *' Ves ; and serves the young scoundrel right." "Now Mrs. (j , your boy will require very careful, and unremitting attendance, and as I have to return to Truro to-morrow, it being only by mere chance that I was in Bodmin to day, I wish to give you all the instructions I can possibly think of, for your guidance." "'I'hank you, sir ; you are very kind." "There fjeing great danger of inflammation, the only treatment the wound can have for some days, is to constantly bathe it in cold water, day and night, when I say constantly, I mean every few minutes, or when he feels the arm heated. It will also I)e necessary to keep him perfectly ([uiet, and not alarm him in any conceivable way. Then in regard to diet, it will be neccessary to use great precaution. He has 46 JOHN THE F1,UNK.Y. '■ u ; ,,- sustained the loss of a large quantity of blood and to give him heavy or strong food, would be decidedly wrong and danger- ous, inasmuch as it would lend to increase inflammation, and that is our great danger. Therefore, I must prescribe something that will increase the blood, gradually, without endangering him I have therefore decided to prescribe port wine, the best remedy that I can possibly conceive for this case." " Please try and find some other remedy, sir."' "1 cannot, it is the best, and only sure remedy that I can think of.'' "• Pardon me, sir, but 1 have a very decided objection to give my child any intoxicating remedies whatever." " My good woman, you must j^ut aside your objections m such an extreme case as this. It is life or death." " I would rather bury my child, than pernnt it, sir." " I must insist on your withdrawing your objection, and before I go further, I will give you a strong reason for my doing so. A short time ago, a man from your own town, I have forgotten his name, came to our infirmary with a cataract in the eye. It was a bad case, and he became very weak. I being the medical man in charge, prescribed (iuinness' Porter. His recovery was complete. I therefore must insist on this being done." " \\'hat sir, are you the man that gave that Guinness' prescription ?" " I am." Rising from her seat, her features drawn, pale and cold like unto a marble statue, with her eyes concentrated upon the only human form that sat before her ; raising her hand, and pointing her forefinger at him ; she exclaimed. "Then sir 1 you are the cause of murder I ! the true murderer (jjointing her hand upward) before God ; morally, before man ! " 'J'he doctor's feelings at this moment, are better imagin- ed than described. It was a woman, who had been addres- sing him, and he felt the true instincts of a gentleman. He must therefore make all possible allowance. He rose from his seat with all the self-command, he could possibly bring to his aid , but he still felt a quiver, which he could not control. Addressing Mrs. (1 — — , he said: " Madam, are )ou JOHN I'HK MA'NKV, 4T iiwaie, ihai y(ju, you have made, a very fearful accusation against me. \'ou must please give me an explanation ? " '' I will give it to you I 'l"he man whom you say you gave that ( iuinness' prescription to, is my husband ! " The doctor sank back into the chair. He had heard of the mur- der, the cause he now surmised. " The result of it is, that it brought back his old craving for intoxication, which I had laboured for years by sufferings and prayers to eradicate. The craving reinstated by your orders has increased and in- creased, until it has brought him to his present condition ! He is now lying in gaol, a murderer : the act committed, in a state of intoxication ! His victim, a poor widow's child, lying dead at her house I Another victim, lying sore and bruised, at his home ! My child lying, it may be dying, upon his bed, in yonder room, through the means of a child-like action of another telling him, what his father had only too truly done I 'I'hat other now lies in prison ; no tloubt bring- ing grief upon a whole family, through a pardonable fault. I stand here, the wife of a murderer! 'I'he mother of a mur- derer's children ! The mother of a poor wounded, darling child, perhaps dying 1 You tell me you dare to insist that I am to repeat your murderous prescription to ////// .' N'o ! 'I'hat child's body and soul, is in my, his mother's hands I " Stamping her foot on the floor with rage, pointing her fore- finger upward. "I will give Mx'i soul \.o God !'" Pointing her finger as it were to the earth, I will will give his bod); to the cold, cold grave, before I will permit you, to give him, that which is carrying his father to the scaffold ! " She then fell back into the chair, apjjarently exhausted. 'i"he doctor now rose, looking dejected, with a feeling of sensational trembling, and apjjroached her, as it were by stealth ; and addressing her said : " Mrs. (i ,"' " \'ou will please leave me, sir."' " I beseech you madam to hear me I " " I will do so, providing you do not ask me to do, what I cannot." " I promise." "Then proceed." " Mrs. ^ r you have simply astonished, and as lounded mo. by the accusation which you have just made against me, and it is an accusation which 1 am bound to 48 JOHN THK FI.UNKY. admit, is a just one. But you must do me the justice, of admitting, that I have been an innocent actor, in this chain of horrors 1 " " I admit that, sir." "Thank you, Mrs. (i , and to show you that I am really in earnest concerning my sorrow for being the instrument whereby such a continuation of sorrow and grief has arisen, I am prepared, not only to withdraw what I have wished you to do, but to pron you, that I will never again prescribe such during the ren. linder of my life ! " " Are you really in earnest, sir ? " " I am, and now swear to you, before heaven, that 1 will keep my word ! " Rising from her seat, with a radiance of joy beaming and glistening in that sorrow-stricken face, she held out her hand, and said, '* then sir, here is my hand, accept the blessing, and forgiveness, of Ids 7c>ife, of his mother ! " " I accept, madam, with all the gratefulness that 1 am capable of feeling, or of showing ! " " Thank you, sir ! " " I have now to ask you, if you will permit me, to take charge of your little boy ? I promise you, that if you do, I will do all that medical skill can possibly achieve, to bring about his recovery." " You are very kind, sir." " Not at all, Mrs, G — — ■, considering what has happen- ed, and the consideration you have shown me, 1 am at a loss to know how to thank you." " You need not mention it, any more, sir." " Then I will take the child to the infirmary, as soon as he is sufficiently strong." " Can he not stay here ?" '' I think not ; you will have other very trying matters to attend, matters which he is now perfectly ignorant of and of which it would be exceedingly dangerous, in his present state, to permit him to know. I certainly think, our best and only plan will be, to do what I have suggested." " Very good, sir, I accept ; but you will promise me, that you will give him your personal attention." "I i)romise that Sirs. (1 - , and now I have to ask you something, which cannot but be a sacrifice to you, and John jhi; ii.unkv. 49 thal^k, for you to give up the idea of seeing hi„,^„.eek !.' It f ff""'' "ecessary for his recovery ?" 1^ Then sir, great as it is, I make it." charge .' ■ ' '"" "•'''■ ''—^' "°- '^c child is in ,ny " Yes, sir." Rising, he said "good night, Mrs (; " hereS;7:^le7'"°' " ''°"' "«^'- '"'" ^^-^ l»nd.s, and Thon;r;c"tf:ndTne '^t'tt ^'^ l'^""'""', ^^'"'=""' Ml 50 lOHN THK I'l.UNKY. CHAPTER VIII. •HE night had been spent in restless rest. It is now morning, and with its early dawn shine forth hours of sadness to our hitherto ill-fated family. 'i'heir meeting at breakfast was very different from the one we last had the pleasure of meeting them at. Scarcely a word was spoken ; all appeared to be lost to each other, so sorrowful that we will not dwell upon it. For it does not do to dwell too much upon this world's sorrows. We all know them, we have all felt them. When they come, let us drive them on, and look for worlds anew. About four o'clock in the afternoon a knock was heard at the door ; it was answered by Kate. A gentleman of elderly appearance, stepping out of his carriage, and walking up to the door, said : " May I ask whether Mrs. G lives here ? "' " Yes, sir," was Kate's reply. " Is she in ? " " Yes, sir. Do you wish to see her?" " T do." " She is not very well to-day, sir," " Is she ill ? " " No sir, not ill, but very fatigued." " Then she is up ? " " Yes, sir." " Then would you kindly tell her, that Mr. Hanks, of Tin Croft, wishes to see her." " Oh yes, sir, you are the gentleman, that has been so kind to mamma." He smiled. " Walk inside, sir, please. Take a seat in the sitting- room. I will go at once and tell mamma." Kate went at once, to her mamma's room. Entering, she said, " mamma, the gentleman whom you were telling us about, that has been so kind to you, at Tin Croft, wishes to see you." " Whom dear, Mr. Banks ? ' JOHN THE FLUNKY "Yes, mamma." '' Then your father has arrived " ^ Arrived, where mamma ?" •' Tn .f ""-^ ^^'^^ ' ''^^''^ ''' ^^'- Banks ?" u rru ^^^s"t'ng-room, mamma. " Ihen I will see him." k a ^l^nc^'~N2Z':"t:1^r°T '^"'^''- There few moments, Mr Bank .r,!l, "''''^ '° ''P'^"'"''- After a ■«ys, " I am glad to see th« tV '"■""« '^°"' """ '1^'^" room, as mig'ht have bei^ext ec"ed Vrf r™'"^'' Z" >'°- fatigues of yesterday." M^t:<-iea Mrs. i^ , after the the ,:jy rhic'h'Tht '^: VrS"™':j^TH ^^"^*^ " '^ you and others have so L^enprnnci i ""^ sympathy that n^yfa.nii>.thatWeeL°^X:t^SrTe:;- 1 have cal ed to tell vnu thn^ t u • "^"o^"- your husband to thr.^ao " ' w ^ ^^''"' J^'^^'^^^^^^^P'-ini^d "Don't allow your feelings .„ n^'' '^'' ''"'^ ''^"^ ^'^^^d. She with difficult/ I'adnU ^"'"""'^ >'°^' ^^f--^- ^' • please listen to^'t 'fof ^^ w'Stes^^T"'- " ^^"^' accompaning him was thnt ifLJu . ^^y ^^'^^on for state, /han /had si^^^o 5^ ; ^to'l^'" ^°l 'r" ? '" r^'^^' him in, in my private carrinal , , '^^refore drove under the doctor's care whfV "? .P'^''^ '^"^^ '^^t once fears are quite ustified'dh 'n '"^^''"''^'^ '"^ ^^at my than two or thrie daj^" ^' ^''" "'^^ i^^^^^^ly live more But his^sod r' ''" ^' '"'^^ ^^^"^ ^'^^ •'^^-^^oW, thank (;od : cerni:;g'i;!:s;^;^tn'^rifi:s^ f "^^^ ^^^- ^^ -' — at hand." ^^^'"^ '' '"^'^ "^ Sood doctor as you , "Tha?^ca"nlt^bf"r;' X^'d?t""' '-^^'"-^ ordered him to bed not even .11 °''^°'' '^"lediately examination to be gone th ouuh ""r^h "T ''' ^^^ "-■''^> impossible for you tosl hm .■ • f^T^"'"'^ It would be arrangements whereby you Snt?hP ^"^ ^ ^^^'^ ^^<^^ o'clock. I will call for\ou with mvT ^.°-"^°^.^°^^ '-^t ten permit me.' ^ ' '''^^^ '"y carnage, if you will . ^-^-.-^. ' Aj-jaui — Jt:, " ag^ 52 !'l JOHN THK I'LL'NKY. " Oh, certainly, sir, you arc very, very kind." And she began to weep ; Mr. Banks doing something very similar. " Then matters are understood." ' Yes, sir." " ^ tiry good, then, to-morrow morning, at a (|uarter to ten, I will be here." They rose and shook hands. "Good afternoon, Mrs. (i~- ." " (lood afternoon, Mr. Manks." She went to show him the door ; but he bid her not, saying, " you are too weak." And so the interview ended. Ill / , u * . -i JOHN THK FI,l!NK^•, 5H CHAPTER IX. TJI ^'^.J'^.E^ "ight has been spent amidst ceaseless ^l sleepless fear. Morning davvns upon us wi h dark ^ JleZs T ^Tl- , ^^^>' ^^^'^' ^r with' t sunDeams the clouds lose the r sombre asnprf " (lood morning I" "(Jood morning, sir!" " Is your mamma ready ? " K^Z l'!f,?'' r"' J"" '■''" ^"' ^»d 1 «■'" remain here » ^^Good mornmg, Mrs. G- ?" " Good morning, Mr. Banks • " found themseves before those mo.c.-, • ^^'o^"^' they The turnkey turns his massive key He on..n. fh^ \\hat all has happened to ,)roduce those -vates and n to cause such ceaseless dread and fear >- ''"' ' On cntermg, Afr. Hanks inquired for ihn ,Uof who.se apartments he was shown. ^Mrs ( J°'''""', ^" the wait ng room He wi. inf.>r.., k r. '^^mained m prisoner h!d noTvet been placed ^ ' u' tT '^'' '^'^ sidering that it ^omlt^^^^:^J.:^^^;^^on Havmg received this permission, Mr. Banks at once 'It fl' ■|- I . : h 64 JOHN IHK ri.l'NKV, [i ( . i •ji ! I proceeded to conduct Mrs. (1 to the room where the prisoner was confined. Considering that it would be better for no one to be present during this meeting, he merely showed her to the door, and she passed in. And what did she here behold ? Upon the bed there lay a dilapidated form with sun- ken eyes casting forth a piercing, deathful glare ; with sun- ken cheeks, dried and shriveled ; bones almost perceptible through the withered skin ; lips parched and dried, enclosing a tongue which moved to and fro, endeavouring to find something, whereby it might moisten the scorched remains, and cool the fire within. Before this form she stood, and gazed unnoticed. At first, she felt her heart melting within her, as if she must fall to the floor ; but a flash flew across her sinking heart. It cried. " Your duty ! His soul ! " Gathering, and concentrating all the strength at her command, she stepped forward, to the bedside, and said quietly, " William." The sound went through the wretched man, like a shock of electricity. 'I'he sunken eyes rose, and flashed beams of joy. The cheeks seemed to expand. The lips seemed to moisten. The tongue ceased its wanderings, and all appeared joy ; and then all closed, apparently, noth- ing remained, but a form of clay. "Oh, oh William ;" she cried. His eyes opened ; he put out his hand ; she was in the act of taking it ; her finger touched it, when she withdrew it with an unconscious feel- ing that it had been stung by a viper ! The feeling grew, to a sensational trembling ! That being was her husband ; yet her own hand would not be commanded. It dared her to put it near him ! A glimmering, magic scene, appeared be- fore her. It was a Magic Wall, that was now built, between those once united beings a barrier that was impossible, for mortal hand to break. One was, an unforgiven murderer ; the other a good and noble woman ! Clasping her hands, she cried, " oh Cod ; oh God, have mercy ! '' He looked up and said, " Jane, I am a murderer ; no mercy for me. I am dying, and I am going to hell ! " "No, never" cried she, "God is a merciful (iod, Re- i I ~ a.. lOHN THK FI.UNKN. 65 pent and ask forgiveness, in the name of your Saviour, and He will pardon you ! " The poor man looked up and said, " Saviour, Saviour, who is that ? " She whispered, " jesus Christ, who died for all our sms. His sad face brightened, and he said, " Does that mean, Jesus Christ died for all my sins?" " V'es, William, for all your sins, if you will only confess and repent." His face became, if possible, more wretched ; he said, " 1 have confessed ; I have repented, but I am not forgiven.' " Hut that has been to man, not to God." " I am so weak — my sins so many — my time so short, that I cannot, I have not strength. I am lost for ever !" " No, no, William, not lost forever — only now Repent from the heart to God, through Christ, and you are saved." " The heart through Chrht. Ah, ah ! Christ will not listen to me. My father ! That boy ! " " I see what is troubling you, William ; I know all. I will call a clergyman, and tell him before you, as I see you are too weak, to do so yourself, and then we will pray for you. Shall I do that ! "' " V'es, you know all, all, but you can't forgive me. '" "Yes, William, I forgive you, and will pray that (iod, also forgive you ! "' "Oh Jane, oh Jane! How good, how good I"' He smiled and there was hope. She went to the door, opened it, and there was good Mr. Banks, still waiting. " Oh sir, I was not aware, that you had been waiting so long, " Mr. Banks smiled. " Is there anything that I can do. " " I came to get the clergyman. I do not think there is any time to be lost. He is very low. " " I will get him. " " Oh thoiik you, " and off he went. In a few minutes he was back, accompanied by the gaol clergyman ; an elderly and good pious man, whose whole enjoyment in life con- sisted in helping and consoling the fallen. She met him at the door, and in a few words told him, &6 JOHN rnr. ri.uNKV. Ht HI it what required to be done. They entered, and slowly ap- proached the dying man. Each taking a chair, by the bed- side. Mrs. (1 commenced to confess, on his behalf the whole of what may be considered sins or crimes which he had committed in his life. After giving all that she knew, or could remember, she turned to him and said, " is there anything more William you wish me to tell." "No. Hut can I be forgiven for all this ? " The kind old man, then took him by the hand, and said, '' yes, (Jod will forgive you all of this, and more, if you will only repent, and ask Him through His Son, who died for you. " " For me ?" " Yes, for you, and for me. " He smiled, and said, " Oh pray for me. " The good, and noble Christian man and woman, then knelt down by the side of that prison bed, and offered up to their God, to his God, to our God, in the name of his Son, a prayer that our boasted Christianity seldom produces. It was a prayer from hearts, not from lips. It went up, and forgiveness came down ; and that murderer was a forgiven man ! That Magic J J a// fell to the ground, and that man, and that woman once more became of one flesh, of one mind, and united in praising God for saving his lost soul, at the brink of eternity ! #• JOHN rHi: I I.INKV. 57 CHAri'KR X. V OiOHE dark and dismal clouds of the morning have •fvO '^^^^" broken, and we have looked through their J^S^ streaks of light, and have there realized those ^^ angelic gains. We will now seek for our reward, which will be found. The doctor enters the prisoner's room, where he finds him attended by his wife, and the gaol clergyman. He examines the patient. He shakes his head, turns to the clergyman, and whispers, " he cannot live more than a few liours ; ' and then departs. The kind old gentleman, steps up to the bed side, takes the dying man by the hand, and says, "My good fellow christian, I am informed, that your time is unavoidably near. Is there any request, or wish, that you have to make, before you leave this world for ever. " " Yes, my children. " " You wish to see them ? " " Yes, oh yes, before I die ! " " Would you wish to take bread and wine, in remem- brance of the Body and Blood of Christ, with them ? " " With my children ? " " Yes. " " Oh yes, thank you ! thank (lod, " and the saved departing soul's face, beamed with christian joy. The clergyman addressing' Mrs. G — - said, " \'ou have heard his request. I think it will be better for you to re- main here, and I will go with Mr. Banks, bring your children, and make the other necessary preparations. " " Thank you sir, you will please explain to the children, how matters are. " "Oh certiinly, I will do that carefully ;" and he left. Mrs. (i was once more alone, with her now Christian husband, and remained so for nearly two hours. She spent this time in improving and strengthening her hus- band's happiness, by alternately praying and speaking to him concerning Christ's Kingdom, and that the time would im FOUN nil. II.CNKV. 'm fi i come when she and their children would meet him there, and rejoice together. A knock at the door was heard. She rose and opened it. It was her children, the clergyman and Mr. lianks. Little Kate exclaimed, " mamma, you look so happy !" "Yes, my dear. Your father is going to heaven." And all seemed to smile. They entered, and when the children looked upon that form, they stopped and wept I 'Ihat form wejU also, but pointed its finger to Heaven I Little Kate stei)|)ed forw;ird, and taking her fathers hand, said, " |)ai)a we onl\ weej) for jov !" He drew her near, and whispered, " and so do 1 !" The children, one by one, now followed Kate's exami)le, all shaking their father's hand. " But where is John, is he not here ? Can I not see him, before I die ?" Mrs. (J , "John is ill, William. He may meet you in heaven soon, but he cannot meet you here !'' " Then children, take him my dying love I" Raising himself u]) upon the bed, sitting ujjright in an astonishing manner, he added : " .\nd the words, which 1 s|)eak to you, repeat to him I' Lifting his hand up, he said, "children hear your father's dying w(jrds !"' They knelt upon the tloor. " 1 have lived a life of sin and crime, caused by being allowed in my childhood to use stroN^ drink! The habit grew and grew upon me, until it has brought me here its victim .' And now I commend you unto your mother, and her teaching for ever ! Yes to your mother^ who has saved me, from eternal fire ! And now, I wish you good-bye," holding out his hand, ^'- for ever ! And they shook hands ; to shake hands no more with him on earth. I'urning to his wife, he said, " Jane, I have no words to thank you ! Good-bye I" Then lifting his b ad, i .led. " and now, T shake hands with Christ ' " " ell back and died. Wife, mother, children, clergymai lagistrate. all ..ept for joy ! \\'hy ? Because her husband .^, i !ieir 'ather's, their christian brother's soul was now in Heaven. li:;! JOflN IHK Fr.rxKv. 9» CHAPTER XI. CH NIC;H;r of sleepless, sorrowful joy has been passed; \QJl morning has again rome, and with it has arrived a .^v:, last and solemn duty. It is the day when the the la e James C , of St. Neot, have to be carried to and placed in their last earthly abode. terrecf in 7h.'''''°i'''' '" ^^^ afternoon the remains were in- erred in the gap grave yard, amidst the weeping, sorrowful oy of his wife, his-children and his friends. ^ Fo win wa saw hi^^oul. """" ^''^ '"°'"' ^° "^^^^"' ^"^ ^he^ th^y are th^f^HowLg'^ol^ir ^ ^'"^' '' '""^ '''' ^'"'^ ^-- "WILLIAM (i ^, Son of James (i- Of the Parish of St. Neot, Cornwall, England, £>iid March lotfi, i8~:' END OF FIRST PART. no JOHN THE FF.UNKV. il lE^^^I^T II CHAPTER I. m p( i 4! \'V was in March last that we saw John, our hero, at Truro Infirmary, attended by Dr. Hlark and jane. yi It is now June, and we find him at Dr. IMack's ) private residence, ahnost entirely recovered, jane has gone home to ]>odmin, her attendance not being any longer necessary. John is perfectly happy. His mamma has been to see him three times, and the doctor has promised him that he would send for her again in about a week. John's recovery was very remarkable. The case was really much worse than any one had supposed ; consequent on the large c}uantity of blood lost, the torn veins and muscles, the flesh jagged and bagged ; in fact, it would be impossible to illustrate the sickening sight. The removal from Bodmin to 'IVuro, which Dr. Black found really neces- sary to do, from his inability to be away from the infirmary, and the excitement and trouble which were then at John's home ; all tended to make John's case a very bad one. Hut John was by nature a brave little fellow, and he had been taught to trust in (iod, and so he did and never murmured. Three days after his arrival, it was decided to amputate his arm. The doctors made all the preparations necessary to do so, and ])roceeded to perform the operation, when I )r. Black stepi)ed forwird, and asked to be allowed to make a last careful examinalion, which he was jjermitted to do. '{'he doctor discovered some healthy spots in the flesh, which he carefully po'nted out to his jirofessional brothers, and asked them whether it would not be well to allow it to stand over for another day. 'i'hey consented. li JOHN THK |].UNKY. (U a lo. Ih id |t() I'hc next day arrived. 'I'hey met to again examine, and they found it still better, and they again decided to put it off for another day. One of the doctors brougiit forward the diet ([uestion. Doctor Black knew this would be a difficult matter to get over ; so he thought it would be better to take a side action. So he said, " (ientlemen, I am taking a par- ticular interest in this case, and am attCiiding the patient more as a nurse than a doctor ; so if you will allow the c]uestion of diet to remain in my hands, I do not think the patient will suffer from it." All were satisfied with this arrangement ; and so the wine (juestion was evaded. C)n the succeeding day, they met again for examina- tion and consultation, when all was found to be progressing favorably, and they decided that the case should be allowed to remain in Dr. Blacks hands for the future. So little John's arm was saved ; his mother's teaching was obeyed; and now we find him, at Dr. Blacks, as his guest ; hai)py and anxious for his mammas fourth arrival. The day of his mamma's arrival came : and then there was great rejoicing for little John. His arm was still in a sling, and still he managed to jum[) a little ; he asked all sorts of c[uestions and ([ueries, until his poor but good mother must have been tired ; but tired she never ai)peared to be, when with her darling child, teaching him if possible, something she had neglected in the past. This visit of John's mother, was an important one for him ; no one interested, had the slightest idea of the effect it was to have in connection with his future career. In the evening, after dinner. Dr. Black re(|uested Mrs. (1 to step into the library, saying, " I have some private matters, which I wish lo speak to you about, Mrs. (; .•' They enter. When sealed, he said :" Mrs.(i — , I wish to speak lo you concerning the future of yijur son. I suppose you would prefer having him trained to be a mechanic ? " "That is my intention, sir, as soon as he becomes sufficiently strong." " How old is he now ?"' " In his thirteenth year." " Rather young to go to work," d ; i 62 JOHN THE FLUNKY, i|^ I ^i " Yes, sir, but he has no father to work for him now, and I must train him to earn his own living ; for what would the helpless child do, if anything happened to me ? " " True, Mrs. Ci , you are quite right. What trade did you intend putting him to ? " " Blacksmithing or engineering." " That would be heavy work." " Yes, sir, but they are good trades." He shook his head. " I have taken particular notice of John, since he has been in my house, and I have come to a decided conclusion, in connection with him." The woman became pale, what was coming, nothing could be wrong with her child. " My opinion of him is, that if carefully trained, and proper advantages are given him he is to become a very clever, and perhaps a great man. " She blushed for joy, and said, " do you really think so, sir?" " I do ! " She shook her head, her eyes moistened. " It is im- possible for him to have those advantages now. He can have no other than to obtain his livelihood by the sweat of his brow." " I think it is better to inform you that his arm can never fully recover its strength again, and being his right arm it would be simply impossible for him to work at the trades you speak of or any work which causes or requires any powerful exertion with the arm." " Then, sir, what do you think he is able to do ? " " He has got a head, which should be used." " Yes, sir, but that requires money, and I have none, but what I and my children earn from day to day. Oh, poor child, if that is the case I see nothing before him but helpless poverty ! " " And what are you now engaged in Mrs. G ? " " I have commenced to take in millinery and dress- making which my eldest daughter assists me in doing at night after she leaves the store where she is engaged in the same business. My youngest daughter who is in her fif- teenth year, remains home from school, and attends to the housework, assisting me at odd times. My two sons, William JOHN THK KLUNKV. 63 ther nicely, and I think 'w^f succeed tn'^l""'"^' "'»"«">«>=■ together." succeed m keeping our home ;; Vou appear to be a very united family, Mrs ( ;_ " in God°'an^?th5 dot'-^'""*'^ '""«'" "^ '^'"- '" '-' ever;;l°Kcrh1s?utltprJ:rdiknrht r ' ''T vantages given him, I have thirctee Stciri.H , ' ?'" "'^■ allow „,e to give him those ad^ntages » ' """'^ >'°" '" I ca„no?rXse.»' '''™' >""' ' '''""'' >™- '^ ''« i» billing, is that le'^r'etin Jui";/ ""^'T' "'^ ""^erstanding education, and fit hra for rr.',""!^ ";",'<' K'™ '"'" =>" suitable for him. Do "U ag;ie ' '''" "' '"^^ ' """^ '"»' '"°wi[rckif''iU,l """r"' '"■i-'r" '">■ "^^''s to ,ou." at once.'" ^°''"' """ "^' ""' h-'-ve the matter .settled Calls John. John enters. agree:^o°ter;ou\te"af.:te^h™'r 7' T'""'-y"" thorough manner \Vh.f t V , ^^ucate you in a to -^s^f^i.::pl--';::^^t::^^'> ■» " tt If ;Su':;I^^^'°™^ ^'--- »'• -^ «-' "-?» " '.''*'" I "K'se- '•'or that is what I want lo be " interview cr,"e^rrrn'e^t^ t^T' '" »'"-'- '^^ heartfelt thanks to the doctor fo^ht -rea't Sf "^ '^''T «tv,ng John a motherly ad„,o„itio„ role nh " hlT'n ,'"'' conduct, m order to vli„iv l, , , ' ' ."'"-'^'""'g "is future good foAune ^er apprcc.ation of his unexpected and forThel«"thfeetar:r:'finH""'"« "■"" '" """""". s:4en:L[:\-iu^^^^^^ rsrr rnt ''^''4hrrf '-- .He i i ■91 fii. 64 JOHN THE FLUNK Y. During school holidays, he was allowed to go home, where he always found himself the pet of the family, and no one grudged him his good fortune, and every person appeared to think, that he had only obtained what he deserved. And so these three years of John's life were three years of complete happiness. f '■ *''■ then opened the doorand Sed i^ Th!;"^' T"!'' "" posed was sleeping, so he Sked up to 'he'bed and ^Z him by the hand and called out "doctor "wlthfi? . '°°'' of waking him. No answer camp f^i ■ u ," '"'«""on ';»ell,» slys he. ..oldMoTho: in tht^fischie/vo.r"' sleep so cold as this, I don't know '" H . n f ,^ ", '""" again, this time had and called " rU.^ Pulled h,s hand "hen the doctor answered by hi's nf„u,h'''f ll''""" '°'"">-' widely as it could and his cv.N.til , '""""^. ff '"S "Pen as "Oh, oh !■■ cried John "it shH ''" ^ ■'' ''^'"^'^^le. and off he ran, oti'tt";he';o» n'riirn'thrs'tl'"''"' "' ^ra^ndTtk-s-^.t:'.'" ■" '^^ ^°-"^ ^ed^-r:'ir.^-t^, A >;:^:^^"z:':^tX' n:^:;^ as icei You are a fooling me." ^ " ■» "» « ith you, sir .' •; No, no ! I am not. Come up and see." cnough^and 'ot too, leavin/al^n:"; goin'^'^o ^S^;;.,"""- 66 JOHN THE FLUNKV. 1 1. " Well but please cook, do come ; there is something there. Oh do come ! " " But are you a fooling me now, sir ? " " Oh no, cook 1 i promise you I am not." "Then I'll go." They enter. "Why laur, it's the doctor I and he's dead I " " Dead?" cried John. "Dead! yes, child — what I've expected to fmd some odd morning. Ts 'art has been a kicking a long time, and now he's kicked his breath out." Pointing her finger at the corpse, "and that's your devil, eh?"' "How can you talk like that, cook ? ' and John burst into tears " Pah ! I've seen many of them sort of things before. Dosen't frighten me a bit. Never gave aught to nie but what I worked for. Can soon get another ..master." " How dare you talk in that way, cook ?' ' " Pooh ! what do I care for you ? Your fine times is over." " You ungrateful thing-leave ? " " Yes, when I likes." John, disgusted with this creature, left and went direct to the infirmary, and informed the resident medical gentleman. Dr. Basset, of what had happened, who at once accompanied John back to the late Dr. Black's residence, and found that the doctor had died, during the night, of heart disease. It was the first dead man John had ever seen, which accounts for the foregoing scene. Dr. Black had never married, and it was found that he had died intestate ; his property going to the nearest akin. So poor John found himself, as the cook had jjredicted, with good times gone. After the funeral and other matters had been settled. John found no other choice, but to go home. Home he went, and there he found, what appeared to him as if the world was turning upside down. He was first told, that his brother William was going to get married in a few weeks. Then his sister Jane, was to do likewise ; and very quietly, and confidentially he was informed, by his mother, that after those two events were over, she was going to follow In the same path, of human progress. Joll\ THE FLUNK y.^ 67 and I am not .oi„g"tItVa„Xr,''1o''hLe™y^."'"' for you. And h«idL lohn voh'n ""'""''' f ''™""f""y d- boy : What are yolr'oi'nf .^ i^:^. "^ "'-k -"'■ ^'y -.d I JVniZZi^^:^^' ""^'^ -y new father; « hool P' '">■ '-^^ ^°>'' -'hat can you do, besides going .o lo wo',' "c'an Z/k."'"'"""''"' '° '•"■ -^"y °"e that wishes ;; to „,y dear child you cannot work?" • .. M ' '••''"' and will :" gratefur°'^l"'BtlV',"t' LV" :^^'""> ""^■"^- »" - y.™ to college, and do^ahfo yo'u ZlT^fT' 'V"'" '^.r^' '"k'"'^ f^"'^- "»">-■ with us too '' "■'" ""'"«• "•hy, thattfh:':,sr;ou gofz ,'? '^' """™'' - ? going to send me to schooT f n,, i '^^fam from ) Ho doing for me ' No fear h' /" "''"' "i>= doctor was No; I am going to wirk for"' ''°,?"n'^'"«"'' ""= ^ind. n.y.e,,and|,enS;pt°S,vl"o'Er-4°*' ' "'" '" though?'h{ " ou'° uidtlVr '"'^' ' •\°"'<' -- '"- iKfote';v* *rnthatt"h!;i?ir.d"' :'■";'• "'-' "-- ^■>™- hearing all this he m ntd \L", " I ™ '"'^ ""' ''''^- "" "ee,,, as might have been ev ,« tcd' r ' ''?"«'^'> ^'d ""' At last he said, " \\{n M^v'J'""' " '">• "'" '"-^ age. ■nan, and I should like o th\nt t, "",',"' ''"^ " -'^O' '^ind cannot be my father A^d™,u""- J"^ '°' ■'" that he about being aUnd here fmv"rh'h'''i"«' ' don't care I an, goinf, .nam,t "b. '(^{...ftl'/^hf "r"-,!''^' '^"' you; that I won't do anythin. Ind " "f , ' "'' '"""'^'^ living, honestly." >™"^ ''ad . I w,l| work for n,y will keep yo™?™"' '"""' '" '^" •"^■- "■> I'"), that no.hn.g ■ » I I m 'II i JOHN IHK KI.UNKV. " Nothing, mamma. I am bound to go ! I want to be n great man 1 And I don't see anything great about living with and being supported by what they call a stepfather ! No, I am going, and I do not care what I do, to begin with, as long as it is honest work." " I am very glad to hear, my boy, this latter part of your determination. But my dear child, how can I recon- cile myself to it ? Will you promise me to keep and obey my teaching all your life long ? " "That's just what I want to do, mamma' so I will promise ! " •'Then may (lod bless you, my child ! " " 'I'hank you, manuua ! " I .* i;< JOHN rHK KJ,U\KV. (I!) :h, of in- ey ill CHAPTER III E are now in September ,8 -, and we find our hero conniiencing his flunky life in the family of R Pox, Esqr., of the Town of Falmouth some forty miles from home, in the .-anack of and lodging. A very humble occupation, with a meiLrro salary Hut as John said, when his brothers and isttrs were blaming him, for taking such a situation ''Its lines and I will beat you yet " And beat them yet he d d ' l.nH f\ K °' ''"^^^ '^^^ '"'"•■'^ ^" «o through in flunky. land, that he never dreamt of findinL^ thero u\ ♦ i that he had socially fallen over an'il4nse predpice '( college boy to a flunky boy, in English eyes 'tKvas no [o "r/imb : \r Tohf r '">- '' '''^ ^ p-cipiceT.;c::ibi: Llthisdai^S^^^^^ ^^^°^'^^^^-^ of it were his'nightly Mr l-bx, John's present employer, was a Kentlemanlv and kind man particular in all his household matter And ,>rov.d a good trainer fbr John, in fltting him for hT 'flimky John remained in his present situation for the s,)ace of at thi conck^irrhnM'"' "'^^'"'"'^ y^^'"' ^"^ '^'^^1 '-^rnved at the conclusio. that it was time to advance a little from the above routine. He therefore obtained a situation' indoor man servam with Colonel Fenwick who i eT°n the same town, at a salary of /"12 ner venr .vhW-u ■ increase on hi., rorjr 4^ 'SJ::^^:^^':^^:: tion eighteen months, when he again had come to the conclusion, that ,t was time to advance. HeThta ned i situation as lady's footman to CJen. Sir Catrick Temp "ton's |()M\ nil: IMNKN, ■i '* ; f,i ; ' i'l ^■j Lady who resided at Cllifton, Bristol, about 180 miles from [•"almouth, at a salary of ^25, two suits of livery, and a plain morning suit per year. This was considered by every one a splendid advance in flunkyland. More than double the salary, with the addition of livery and i)lain clothes. 'I'hen there was also the improvement in rank of family. I'or in flunkyland they rank in ratio with the rank of their masters. In fact, to the flunkys of j-'almouth, John became an object of good-natured jealousy, when it was announced among their lordships that he had obtained such a jjosition, such a long way away. A young fellow of nineteen years, to get such a position. It a|)pearcd to them, and really was immense, in flunkydom. So John proceeded, on the first of l*'ebruary, 18 , to Clifton, to occupy his new jjosition ; where he arrived late in the evening. He was received by the butler, a middle- aged man of heavy dimensions, who carried airs sufficient for the Lord Chancellor of all (Ireat Britain. John was at once shown by this important i)ersonage to his room, and informed, when ready there was sui)per awaiting him in the servants' hall. 'I'his was all done politely, but there was a stiffness about it, which was repugnant to John's kind and open nature, something which he could not com])lain of; but it was something which chilled him to his heart. 'I'he fact was, John had arrived into the heart of flunkyland, and this was his Hrst taste of its fruits. .After supjjcr the butler informed him that he might retire to bed, and that he would not be retpiired to assume his duties until after break- fast next morning, when he wished to give him his instruc- tions. John thanked him, and retired to his room. Next morning came, and with it breakfast, when John had to be introduced to what were now his fellow-servants. This was also done by the butler, and done with as much etiquette as if it had been a royal reception. Every person- age taking precedence according to his or her rank, in this land of honour. On John entering the servants' hall, escorted by the corpulent butler, they all immediately rose. John bowed. Then the grand reception commenced. The first introduction was to the housekeeper, a corpulent elderly widow, who bent her back and put out her hand, as if they lOIIN IHK ll.l NKN 71 had been stiffened with pasteboard for the occasion. It took the form of, " Mr. John G , her ladyship's foot- man;'' "Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper;" a bow, followed by a touch of the i)asteboard-stiffened hand. Next her ladyship's maid, who was (ertainly a stiueamish old maid ; for she was com|)Osed of a tall and slender figure, with features to suit. They comprised a roman nose : eyes grey, dried with apparent shedding of oi)portunity tears ; mouth large, and li|)s thin, as if they had been used for other pur- poses beside childlike fraternity. Teeth glistening with gold ; ( heeks slightly sunken : skin ])ositively dr\. In demeanour dignified, thoroughh imjiressed with the rank and imi)ortance of her position. She passed for thirty, but / b")hn said he had "an idea, that she was forty." We will not go further into the individuality of the household, than to say they were a grave and dignified household, sufficiently so to make our hero imagine the master and mistress to be Greek statues. After the reception of her ladyship's footman, breakfast commenced. John was seated at the left of the housekeeper, who tried to make herself as agreeable as possible ; but John was not equal to the occasion. He felt his heart heavy, or in other words, he felt disgusted with the royal reception into flunkyland, and decided at that table that he did not wish to die within its jurisdiction. ISreakflist being over, the butler recpjested John's attendance, to receive his instruc- tions regarding the grave and imjjortant duties of his ofli(-e. He was first shown his clothes, which were a ])lain, neat suit for morning work ; a suit of livery of very picturescjue cut : coat, swallow-tail, of a bright blue (loth, Itound with red piping-cord, largel)' supplied with gold buttons, having the Templeton family monogram bla/.ingly stamped thereon ; vest, red silk, with buttons as per coat ; l)ree< lies, of blue velvet, tied in at the knees ; stockings, i)urj)lc silk ; shoes, |)atent, with silver buckles ; overcoat, for driving or walking in unfavorable weather, of dark blue, plentifully supplied with the everlasting monogram gold buttons ; gloves, white ; hat, with three corners, made of sillc, which was introduced into the Templeton family about two centuries previous to John's entrance into the world. Tnis was Johns outfit, and a thought ran through his mind, that if he ever got inside tl % 72 ?OHN I II I I I.IVKV. ot" thcni, he would then know tlie meaning of the word transfiguration. The butler then took huii around the house, showing him all the different apartments, and explaining their dif- ferent purposes ; all was immense grandeur, such as John had never before beheld. If is heart still became more impressetl with all he saw, until he began to feel as one stupelied with a drug. Having now reached the pantry, the butler conmienced to tell him his several duties. We will not attempt to go into such a minute description of them as the butler did ; but will content (nirselves with an illustration. " \'our first work in the morning will be to clean 'er ladyship's boots, and anything helse that she ma) border or re(]uire. 'Then you will assist in laying the cloth for break- fast ; and when waiting you will attend to 'er ladyship, never leaving 'er, without it his to go for anythink she may want ; and then not to leave the room, but send the page, who will be bin attendance. When she 'as hall she recjuires, remain standing behind 'er chair, and never leave, hunder any < inches, take that into Mr. Hump, and he will see what I mean." John goes to Mr. Hump. " What is your name ? " "JohnG , sir." " ^yhat has been your former emjjloyment ? " "(Gentlemen's servant, and agent, sir.' "With whom have you been employed?" 7(1 JOHN IHI'. Fl.rN'KS'. .Vi ■; i 1*1 i:)! " I was first two years with Mr. Fox of Falmouth. Then eighteen months, with Colonel Fenwick of F'almouth, I then (-ame to (ieneral Sir Patrick Templeton, of Clifton, Bristol ; since then 1 have been agent for Messrs. B. H. ».\: ('o., of Fondon." "How long were you employed, with Ceneral Sir Pat- rick 'I'empleton, of Clifton, Bristol ? " " I arrived there, sir, at nine o'clock on the evening of the first ot February. 1 left sir, at ten o'clock, on the morn- ing of the second of February." " Both days being in the same month, of the same year ? "' " V'es, sir, they were all in this year I " " Did you leave, of your own accord ?" " No, sir, I did not ! " " \'ou can go. \'ou'll do ! " "Thank )0u, sir." Bows and leaves, John returned to Bristol, feeling disgusted wit! bis country. Man was treated, as if he were a dog, and John was determined, that he would not be a dog, for any man. Three days after his return, he received a communication from the Midland Railway ; stating that his services would not be required. Poor John had lost his character. Ceneral Sir Patrick Templeton, had got it : and John, in the land, of so-called freedom, was his slave. His only remedy was, to go humbly, and beg his i)ar- don. But there was something, within John, that would not permit him to beg the pardon of a man, who had called him a contemptible flunk, simply because he was trying to earn his livelihood honestly ; and had \entured to say what he thought when asked, " No I'' says John, "I will die first ! Here's going for lands new, where all are ecjual in the sight of man, as well as of (iod I A land where merit rules, and not the descendants of past oppressors I " 'I'his land fohn called Canada. .fOHN I UK Ki.LNKv. f1 me ^ CHAPTER IV. I is now the i8th of iVfn\' rs j '[ ]™^ ^o fe'o to Canada. " , VV ell, I came to ask you. 1 thought you could advise '' Uhlnt'^ci/^ '"if '""^>'' ^«^^" ^' -""try .^ " u Tu T "y '^'""^^ ^tut me best. ' ^ city m Canada. " ^ ^' '" ^'^^'t' the second "'i'hen you think, it will be the best nln.-<. r at the present time ? " ^ ^^^' ^ ^''^" 8^ to " I do, most decidely ' " possiblc^ito. "'" ^'"- -^"^ ' ™'" "> go. ••>» quickly as «" i can g:i',r, 'it: -" °"-™ •^" ■^^»'^'«' i--«^ -^ 'f y- as inuch money a,s possible win ,U Ket tl e^: "V ■"u would an assisted passage he ' • """ '"""'^ .hreeit,;h'::yo"M:nri:e''i" iH ^r ''^7;" "'•= »"■*>■ money. ' ' ' ^'^ anout /, r 4? of our •• l^^!l!'^i!t"\''"":''"'^""'^^"^-'"^'-'-ay there ^'' lOHN IHK I LUNKN 70 bills. '• Mr.(i. , bed and breakfast, and cartage of bag- gage to steamer 12s. " John jjaid the bill without remark, but thought it looked like fishy friendshij) I Arriving at the Allan steamship otifice, he was informed that he would have to get his ticket exchanged, and name entered, which he accordingly applied for. " How much did you pay the emig'-ation agent, as I see there is no amount entered on your ticket ?"" " I have paid him ^,'5 17.V., which 1 understood to be ^4 15.^. for passage on board ship, and ^,"1 2y. for railway fare. " "Then, he has just charged you i is. too much. " "Eleven shillings too much, and he offered, with pre- tended favor, to get me an assisted jjassage ! '' " Your consolation is, that he has assisted himself lo that extent. " John now proceeded on board ship, with a very poor impression, of (Canada's emigration agents. The j)assage was just as emigrant passages usually are, with nothing particularly remarkable ; but he was rather surprised to meet a immber of persons on board who had been to ^^ngland from C'anada, on a visit with assisted l)as.sage'^' in their possession. He thought that surely, assistance was not intenued for them. There was one /6'jvi', as he passed f jr on board, who in conversation informed him, that he had visited the old country ^/iree times, and that he had on board a large ([uantity of merchandise packed in somi strong, but old looking trunks, which he was taking out for peddling purposes; and that he intended to smuggle them through, as he had done before. Josev, also had an assisted passage. The Allan Steamer arrived at (^)uebe( , on the morning of the 24th of Ma_\-. It was a beauciful morning, and John felt rejoiced to see the noble old city, which he had so often read about, before he ever thought or dreamt of approach- ing the shores of her country. At last, the good shi[) which had borne them across the stormy ocean, was brought along side the wharf ; when the passengers eagerly made for shore. John seeing a numl)er of steerage passengers going into an office, he followed, thinking it might be ne( essary for some purpose 80 JOHN THE FI.UNki'. which he was not then aware of. Entering, he saw them receiving railway tickets for their different destinations, but strangely he did not see any money passing, so he asi;ed Josey, who had just received one ; " how he got it, without paying for it." Jo.sey replied by saying, " That that was the immigration agent, and he gave tickets to those who could not pay." " But you have money." "Supposing I have, he's not supposed to know. He can't look into my pockets." " I paid for mine in England." " Well next time you come out, you take a leaf out of my book, and then you'll know the ropes." In about an hour after arriving at the wharf, the passengers were all ordered to pre[)are to go on board the (Land Trunk Railway train ; when they were soon on the road for their several intended homes. John carefully watching for some other of his adopted country's a.ssisting ayent-s. -.) JOHN THE FLUNKY. 81 CHAPTER V. T is now the 25th of May, 18 --, and we find John has arrived in the Queen City of the West. "The immigration agent wishes to take charge of him, but John quickly informed that official that he would take care of himself. We now find John in the reading room of a quaint but comfortable little hotel, near the railway depot, carefully perusing the evening papers. At last he came to an adver- tisement, which said: "Wanted immediately— A smart active young mar as bock and news agent, to run on a ^;teamboat. Apply to P & Co., Y St." John at once decided to apply for it considering that it would suit nim splendidly for a commencement. s\t nine o'clock on the following morning, we find him at the office of B cK: Co, making application to the manager : when the following conversation took place •— " I am come, sir, please, to apply for the agency which 1 saw advertised as being vacant, in the i)aper last evening." 'Have you ever been agent before.?" "Not in this country, sir." 'I How long have you been in this country ? " " I arrived in Quebec on the morning of the 24th. and here in Toronto, last evening." ''And this morning you are making application tor work ? "11 " Yes, sir, if you please ? " " That looks like business ! " " I am compelled to be like business, just now ' " " For why ? " '' Because, sir, I have only money sufficient to pay mv board for about a week, and then I work or starve.' "Then you wish to work ?" 1^' Yes sir, if it is possible to obtain it ! " " Well, young man, I know nothing about you, and do ■•f h^ S2 JOHN THK FLUNKY. u not wish to ask. (John trembled with fear,) From your appearance I should infer that you are respectable, and therefore I will give you (John trembled with joy) the agency for a start." " Oh thank you, sir ! Thank you." " Now it is not a large matter, and will chietly depend upon yourself. We give twenty per cent, commission upon sales made, and then if you have no objection to waiting at table, the captain will give you your board and lodging free." " I can do that, sir ; I am ])erfectly satisfied." " Very well, then. It is upon the steamer C 0/ T . She runs from here to N . You can go on board to-day, and make your first trip." " Thank you, sir, I will gladly do so I " John now returned to the hotel, and at once sat down to write to his mother. John had left England without informing any of his friends of his intention of doing so. He thought it best not to do so, as he knew it would cause them intense anxiety. 'J'herefore he had determined to keep his movements secret, until he arrived in Canada, and obtained work. His letter was short, as time would not permit him to write a long one, which he concluded by assuring his mother that he had kei)t his promise to her, and that he always would. Completing his letter and posting it, he at once prepared to go on board the steamer C 0/ T . Arriving on board the C of T — , he incjuired for the captain, who referred him to the steward. Finding the steward, he introduced himself by informing him that he had been appointed by B- (S: Co to the news agency on the boat. 'I'he steward, who John was surprised to find only a young man, aj)parently not more than 21 or 22 years of age, received him kindly, and after inc[uiring a little into his Canadian history, which was not a long one ; told him that B (S: Co were very nice people, and he was fortu- nate to have obtained an agency from them : and also, that anything which might be in his power to do for him on hoard, he would be most happy to do, providing his Cana- dian conduct in the future were as good as it appeared to be in the i)ast. John thanked him for his kindness, and felt ready to weep, at meeting such a kind and good young JOHN THK FLUNKY. 83 fellow, and was not now at all surprised at finding him in tha position. John thought correctly. It was his goodness and not his age, that had put him there. At seeing him' John felt more hopeful and happy than he ever had fek before in his life. He concluded that he had at last arrived in the country which he had so long wished to find where man was promoted and appointed for his true merit, and not for his birth. ' 'rhe steward now ordered one of his waiters to .show John his room ; at the same time reciuesting him, after he had taken the inventory of his stock, etc., from H- t Co., to come to him as he wished to speak to him before he boat started. John again thanked him, and promised that he would go to him, as soon as he possibly could I he boats time for leaving was six o'clock. At four o clock John tound that he had cc .ipleted his work, and so he at once went, and inquired for the steward. The steward was found in his office, where he re(,uestcd fohn to come After doing sx, we find John receiving from ihe good young steward, the following sensible advice : ^ h.v V'^^' f''""^. ^ ^^""^ ''^'^ '^■^''''^^ o^ ^ department, J have always found it necessary, to place and give, every one his proper position, and when on dutv, to enforce it most ng.dly, for it is the only way that 'any establishment, no difference ot what nature, can be properly and systematic- ally worked. Therefore, I not (ml) wish, but must insi t that you keep your place, which I will give you That IS so far as it concerns my department. It is usual, for the news agents on our boat to wait at table, for wh ch thev receive their board and lodging I suppose you are pre- pared to accept this.' ' " Oh yes, certainly. 1 wish to do all I can." ' All right then, you will be under the head waiter's orders during the time you are waiting. He will give vou your place at table, which I want you to strictly keep, ind see that the passengers are ])roperly attended to in vour division, and you are to receive orders from no one, excei.t- ing the head waiter. This is all I have to do with vou as far as your duties are concerned ; but I have been blinking about you to-day, and I have come to the conclusion, right- ly or wrongly, that you are a respectable fellow, and bein- i 84 JOHN THE FLUNKY. !li young fellow like myself, I should like to give you some advice concerning your future actions, on board and on shore too, if you have no objection to receiving it.'' " None whatever, I should only be thankful to you." " T have always found that a young man's great danger when arriving in a new country is his eagerness for com- l)anions of some sort. Of some sort he can always find plenty, but he cannot, and must not expect, to be received right into the arms of respectable society at once, for several reasons. Take for instance : 1 am under the impression, that you are respectable, and perhaps better educated than 1 am, at least your appearance indicates it ; but I could not, and would not introduce you at present, to my private friends for two reasons ; the first being, that your position at present is not to say a good one ; the second is, that although 1 believe you to be thoroughly respectable, yet, not having known you sufficiently long to prove you in any way, I could not think of asking my friends to accept your company be- fore I had done so. Then what I would advise you to do for some time to come is, not to have or allow yourself to have any friends or so-called friends whatever. Hut to keep yourself, strictly to yourself, and attend to your duties. If you do this, depend upon it, you will succeed. Your appear- ance, and I should say by your manner, your education will soon make v/ay for you ; and then you will find all the good friends you wish foi. But if you don't do this, then I can hold out no hopes for you. You must pardon me for advis- ing you so much. I am only a young man just as you are, but I may have seen more of the^world and its ways than you, and 1 don't like to see respectable young men led astray. Now old fellow, stick to your work and to what I have told you, and you will come out square." " .Steward, 1 must thank you, thank you very much, for your unexpected kindness. You are the first real friend that I have met with since I left home. I know you are a friend from what you have said, and the way in which you have expressed yourself. I again thank you, steward ! " " Don't mention it, but go ahead." John had now met a real and true friend, much more so, than he could have then thought. At six o'clock the boat was on her way, and then John's JOHN THK FLUNKV. 86 duties commenced. He found it to be, as the steward had said, not a high position ; but he did as the steward advised him, and as his own inclinations compelled him. He stuck to his work, and kept himself as his friend. At the end of the season he received the thanks of his employers, who were thoroughly satisfied with the way in which he had performed his duties. And John was equally .satisfied. He had been working on commission, and now found himself in possession of .$150, the result of his season's work, after i)aying all neces- sary expenses. He also found that although he had made no confidential friends, there were a number of people of l^osition, who appeared to be taking a slight interest in his welfare. »^a ^^^^o. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) E, W 1.0 I.I 1.25 lb J ^ 1^ 1.4 2.5 2.0 1.6 i? /; <^ /}. ^.."^J^^ 0% / 'V^ 7 -(^ Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4S03 %> /^^ ^ \ V 8fi JOHN TKK FLUNK V. ?l CHAr'TKR VI. [OHN had been considering for a long time, what step he had better take for his future advancement. He felt that he had an aptitude for business, but fell short in experience, and also in business education. He was now the possessor of $150.00. He could invest that in something, and start in business, but in what he could not practically decide. At last he came to the conclusion, that he would invest it in the only piece of property he possessed on earth, and that was himself. He had settled up his season's work with his employ- ers yesterday, and to-day it is the 26th of November, 18 --, when we find him at the office of the British North America Commercial College, applying for a scholarship of that institution, which he intended to supply him with what he considered himself deficient, viz., a good business education. The following conversation took place between him and the principal. " How long, sir, do you consider it should take one to obtain a diploma?" *' That will entirely depend upon your present state of education, and your abilities, or aptitude for learning. It generally takes from three to six months." " From three months. Will you allow me to take the scholarship?" "Oh yes, certainly." " How much, sir, will the amount be ?" " Fifty dollars please." John counts out fifty dollars, and hands it to the principal, "Thank you. When would you wish to commence your studies, Mr. G ?' ",At once, if you please." " Very good." The principal openihg his eyes broadly. John now received his books and other working mate* JOHN THE FLUNKY, S7 rial, including a copy of the rules, and was then shown to the theory department, and introduced to Mr. Jackson, the teacher, who took him in charge, showing him his desk, &c., and then requested him to carefully examine his rules before commencing work. Reading them he came to the words : '* All students of this college are supposed to be getitlemen, and are requested to conduct themselves as such." John's eyes became intently fastened on the three words student, college and gentlemen, until the tears were to be seen trickling down his cheeks. He could not tell at first for why, until gradually old rememberances came flashing across his mind. He thought of his past college days ; then of the immense fall he had suffered in falling from college life to flunkyland, and then of Cleneral Sir Patrick Templeton's "contemptible flunk." In looking at those words students, college and gentle- men, he there realized that he had re-climbed i\iQ precipice. And exclaimed, silently, " For which I must thank my mother's teaching.'* John now commenced his studies with a determination, to be beaten by no one in that college. He found himself rather deficient in elementary matter, consequent on his long absence from school ; but he quickly made up for this, by carrying his books to his boarding house, and work- ing every spare moment he had. His lamp was to be seen burning at all hours of the night, until the expiration of three months and three days. Victory was his. His examination had been passed. His diploma he had received, and he had beaten every student in that college, in point of time by fifteen days. c \r I ii 88 JOHN THK FI-UNKY. CHAPTER VII. ; T is now the ist of March i8 , and John had been in Canada about ten months. He had become the possessor of a commercial college diploma, but with that exception he only possessed himself, and twenty dollars, and had now once more to face and brave the wide, wide world. From some uncontrollable inward feeling, John never feared the world. It never had any dread for him. If he saw any difficulties to face, it always appeared to make him feel elated with the prospect of trying and succeeding. So, true to his character, we find him to day in the office of his late employers B & Co. ; and after informing them of what he had been doing with himself for the winter, he asks them whether they have any employment they can give him, adding, " I am not particular so long as it is something I can learn by, and will give me sufficient to defray my necessary expenses for the next two months. The manager complimented him upon his energetic behaviour, saying that it always gave him the , greatest of pleasure, to assist any young man who showed such qualities, but he was very much afraid that he could do nothing for him at present. " I am prepared to do anything, sir, which is honest work." " I can think of nothing at present. I am exceedingly sorry !" " Would you allow me to call again to-morrow, sir ?" " You can, certainly, but I can hold out no hopes." " Thank you, sir ! Good morning." " Good morning, John " The manager then turned to one of the proprietors who was present and said " that young man possesses more energy, and I believe honesty, than any young man I have t-i i_ JOHN THE FLirNKY. 89 Li \^ ever met with." He then told him all he knew of John, and finished by giving it as his opinion, tliat, " there was something extraordinary about him, and he only wished that he had some vacancy to give him." " If you think so much of him, I should certainly say that it would be simply a true act of business on your part, to make a vacancy for him, and give him a trial. Trust- worthy young men are so difficult to find. I should say, when you see one, secure him at once, for he will become of more value to you than you will be to him, if he turns out according to your present opinion of him." " I have not the slightest doubt about him myself. A thought has just struck me. We are thinking, as you are aware, of opening a branch establishment in thr City of O It will be of the utmost importance to us, that we have some one there, in whom we can have full confidence. Supposing I give him something to do in the office for a short time, and watch him closely, and see what his business abilities are likely to be, and whether he is in all respects what I now consider him." " I should certainly say a good idea ; then if he gives you satisfaction, and we determine to open a branch in the City of O , send him there in charge of it. Is that what you mean ? " '* That is, just what I was thinking of doing." '* Then I should say by all means do it, you can make him worth what you pay him here for two or three months, and then by that time we shall be opening the branch, if we open one at all." ** Very well, then, it is a settled matter. I will take him on when he comes to-morrow, and put him posting the books, and pay him at the end of the month what I consider him to be worth." "Which you cannot make any unstake by doing." And so our hero's future was decided. Next morning, John was at the office awaiting the man- ager's arrival. The manager enters. " Good morning, John." **Good morning, sir." " I suppose you are come to see what I can do for you ? " " Yes, sir, if you please ? " no JOHN THK FUJNKV. ** Well, I have been thinking over the matter, and have come to the conclusion to give "ou an opportunity to show me what you can do, by employ iu^; you in the office for a few weeks ; and at the end of the month I will give you what I consider you to have heen worth. Will you accept ? " " Oh certainly, sir I That is much more than I could have expected. 'I'hank you, sir ! Thank you very much 1 ' " When do you wish to commence ?" " At once, if you will allow me ? " " 'I'hen come inside, and I will give you some posting lo do." John here commenced his true career. He had an op- portunity given him, because he was considered worthy of it. We will see what use he made of it. John had now commenced his duties, and with them found many new and trying difficulties. Jiookkeeping in theory, and bookkeeping in practice he found to be very different. But John was determined to succeed, the word success was stamped on his heart in golden letters, and noth- ing could efface it. He was first at the ofifice in the morning, and the last to leave it at night. He made errors in the books, but he was never afraid to own that he had made them, or ashamed to ask for assistance and advice. So stead- ily and unflinchingly did he work, that he soon gained sym- pathy from all in the office, and with it came assistance from every source. At the expiration of the month, or of his months work, on the ist of April, i8 — , the manager called him to his office, and handed him a cheque for $30.00, drawn to the " order of John (I , Esq." " What is this for, sir, please ? " " It is for you. " * " Oh sir, but pardon me, that is too much ! It is more than I have been w orth. See what errors I have made, and what trouble I have been to you. " " 1 promised you John, that I would pay you what I considered you worth. I have done so, therefore be satis fied. " John stood amazed. " Well, John, is there anything more ? " Recovering himself, " Can I still come to the office, sir ? " The manager smiled and replied, " Oh yes, John, cer- i_ JOHN I'HK FUNKY. 91 tainly, come and do just as you have done ! " John bowed himself out of the office. For the succeeding two months, John did as the mana- ger had requested him to do, viz., as he had done. It is the I St of June, or three months since our hero commenced his duties at the office of B iV: Co., and it was now an acknowledged fact, that he had completely mastered the books, and the business. .So persistent had been his efforts, that it was found perfectly impossible to keep anything from him ; or, in other words, he had proven true to the manager's prediction. John was again called to the manager's private office. It being on the ist of the month, he almost showed the doubts which he feared. He had noticed the work in the office becoming lax, and therefore concluded when sent for, that he was going to hear of his services being no longer required. On entering, the manager requested him to sit down, a compliment he had not before received at his hands. He also was surprised to find one of the proprietors present, to whom he was introduced by the manager. So unexpectedly did these courtesies come to him, that he felt com|.>letely bewildered ; he could not think or imagine, for a mom nt what it alt meant. The manager then addressed himself to John as fol- lows : " Mr. Ci. , it being our intention to open a branch establishment in the City of O , and requiring some one, in whom we can implicitly trust with its management, we have decided to offer you the appointment. Are you pre- pared to accept ? " John sat for an instant astounded, but quickly recover- ing himself, replied as follows : " I have always made it a rule, sir, never to refuse an offer of promotion, for my sole ambition in life is to succeed. But I have also endeavoured never to try impossibilities, and I am afraid what you are now offering me would be an impossibility. For my ex- perience in the business has been so little. You have in offering me such an appointment, paid me a compliment which I am at a loss to know how to show my appreciation of — without it is by placing myself unreservedly in your hands?" 92 JOHN THE FI.UNKY. Us '* Then am I to understand your meaning to be, that if we choose to give, you accept ? " " That, sir, is my meaning ! " " Then, 'Mr. CI , we appoint you to the full charge of the branch, at a salary for the first year of eight hundred dollars. " (John's feelings here, can be better imagined by the reader, than described by the writer,) *' to be increased a(-cording to the success of the branch ; or in other words, as the business increases, so will your salary increase. For that will depend mainly u|)on your ability and efforts in con- ducting and pushing the business ; therefore, we will pay you accordingly. " " Now, I want you to understand, as clearly as possible, what the branch is intended to be. The business will be, of course, precisely the same as this, only, not on anything near the same scale to begin with, but to commence in a small way, supplying the stock from here, and increasing its capacity just as fast as the extent of its business may justify. I wish to impress upon you, the excellent opening which you have before you. The city of O , is one of our most thriving and growing cities. You go there in charge of a branch of one of the best publishing houses in this country. It is in your power of pushing and conducting this branch, in a proper business manner, to build up in the course of say, two or three years, an establishment nearly equal to this ; and then you must understand, that that will put you, in a position equal, or nearly equal to my own. I will now give you our reasons for entrusting you with this new enterprise, in a few words : I know of no young man, whom I have more confidence in than I have in you. I know of no young man, who has now a better opportunity, to push his way in the world than you. " The proprietor present, now addressed our hero as follows: "Mr. () , it has given me the greatest of pleasure to hear Mr. M. , our manager, speak to you in the manner he has done ; to hear him so speak, is quite sufficient to assure me, that you are what his words so clearly indicate. I have only to say Mr. G , that I hope and trust, you will always prove, as you undoubtedly at present are, worthy of them. " JOHN THE FLUNKY. 93 John now rose from his seat, and replied as follows : I' Gentlemen, after all I have heard, and all i have intrusted to me, I can scarcely contain myself for joy! You will please pardon me for saying nothing more ; for I cannot ! " He bowed and withdrew. T ■ ) 04 JOHN THK FLUNKY. Pi w CHAPTER VIII. /^^Y^-%E arc now in the height of our Canadian summer. ^^//t\yj It is the 2nd of July, 18 — , and with it we find our hero in the ('ity of O , in full com- mand of the branch establishment of the well- known publishing house of B — & Co., of the City of Toronto. He finds it a position of a very heavy and onerous responsibility, but his indomitable courage will not allow him to be beaten. Success to him is a certainty. The position he holds, and the position he will keep, with posi- tive and certain advantage to his employers and to himself. VVe will therefore leave him to himself, as far as his branch establishment is concerned, for about two years. John held, to some people, rather curious notions in regard to religion. His inclinations were strictly religious. From the early training which he had received, it could not be otherwise. For some reason or the other, he had become displeased with churches. He held that it was not strictly necessary to belong to any church, in order to obtain salva- tion. " True religion," he would argue, "comes only from the heart, and is shown only by a man's actions." He, in fact, would go so far as to say that, "A man's prayers should be by actions, and not by words." "A young man," he would say, "who has written upon his heart the law of God, and his neighbour, regardless of sect, together with success in life by honourable perseverance, has written upon his heart the true prayer which Is acceptable to God." (Once in his life he carried his belief in action a little too far. He met a young lady to whom he became attached ; which led him to do what all young people are liable to do, and what is vulgarly called popping the question. In placing this charming question before her, he informed her that she must not expect '* blarney," but take actions for words. And she would not, and did not take him at all.) JOHN THE FLUNKY. 96 Still he would admit, and at times argue, that every one should be a member of a church, for example to others, and should assist in supporting it, according to his or her means. He had always been a constant attendant at church since he left home ; but had never become a member of one, before arriving at the City of O- , simply because, through his unsettled mode of life, he had not been able to do so. And now that he considered himself settled, he decided to become a member of a church, and to endeavour to make himself as useful as possible in its interest. The next matter to be taken into consideration was, the church most suitable to his somewhat peculiar views. He concluded that it was the E. R. C. ; and therefore became one of its members, also joining the Bible class, and in a few weeks was requested to become a teacher, which request he complied with. He soon became attached to his class, and the class e(|ually attached to him ; it was impossible for them to be otherwise. So earnest was he in his work, always making it a point to impress upon his pupils the necessity of making themselves useful and thoroughly practical in life. His lessons became almost altogether practical, for he would argue, " Teach a boy the practical lessons of the world, and you then give him an armour plate to put upon his heart, whereby he may be assisted in resisting its temptations." Our hero soon became dissatisfied with the E.R.C. : or not with the E.R.C. as a church, for its doctrines coincided with his views to a greater extent than any other church he knew. It taught what he believed to be the true principles of Christianity, viz., that churches or bodies of people were necessary to be formed for their mutual edification ; and in order to form a church or body, it is necessary to adopt rules and regulations, and enforce them for their mutual benefit ; but such formations are not strictly necessary to salvation, and that all— np difference of what religious creed or sect — were equal in the sight of ( lod, when they worship him in spirit and in truth, according to the best of their belief and conscience. This is what the E.R.C. teaches, and in our hero's opinion it is purity. But he also came to the opinion, that in so far as T Church was concerned, or the immediate 9G JOHN THE FLUNKY. branch of the E.R.C., established in the City of O , the purity was only in theory, and not to be found in practice. Having come to this conclusion, he decided not to remain any longer within a body that was all theory and no practice, except in almost constant internal disputes con- cerning trifling personal matters. And now what was to be done ? A church he must attend, and he did not know where to find one that he could enter with satisfaction. l1 « he :e. to 10 n- }e m ■vwiviv^^inRv^ - m 'JOHN tHE FLUNKY. m CHAPTER IX. /^^Y^-^E are now in the stormy month of March, i8 — , ^Jjt\>A or about one year and nine months since the arrival of our hero at the City of O ; and we find him not only the successful head of the branch establishment of B & Co, of Toronto ; but also the head of what no doubt will develop itself into a church. John, as we know, had decided to leave T Church, and we are now sufficiently acquainted with our hero to know that what he decides to do will be done. We also know that he had become very much attached to his class at T Church Sai bath School, and he had also become equally attached to Sunday School work. And being then outside of the church, he also found himself outside of the school But he determined that a class he would have. So w^e find him renting a room over the Y.M.C.A. hall, for the purpose of having a class of boys to teach on the Sabbath Day. Having renied the room, his next object was to get tho boys, and this he had not much trouble in doing ; for the boys of his late class, with one or two excep- tions, immediately flocked to him, all declaring that he was the best teacher they had ever had, and that wherever Mr. G went to teach, they would follow. So the Sunday School now known as the G School, commenced with eight boys, in age ranging from 1 2 to 16 years ; all of res- pectable families, and of fair education. But John determined that he would have others besides the so-called respectable, and he soon obtained them. He gave it to be understood that his was to be a Bible class ; not national, sectarian, or in any way dogmatic ; and that all were acceptable, whether Jew or Gentile, to receive his teachings, which would be by practical lessons, drawn from the Bible, whereby children might obtain an armour 8 98 JOHN THE FLUNK V. plate to resist the sii uid snares of the world. So successful were his plans and his teachings, that the School — now in existence but nine months -numbers one hundred and fifty scholars, of all sects and creeds, and is constantly increasing. Among them may be named, the Marks, and the Rosenthallers, the McDonalds and the McCarthys, the Chabots and the 'lasses. And it is now our hero's delight to receive visitors to his Sabbath School, and to hear them exclaim, " Here is truly a godlike school." Shortly after starting this cosmopolitan Sabbath School, he found it necessary to obtain an organ, to accompany the singing, which he purchased at his own expense. The organ obtained was found to be perfectly useless without a living object to enable it to send forth its melodious sounds. There was a little difficulty to be overcome, at first, even by John, how this want was to be supplied ; for it was neces- sary to use great precaution in choosing or allowing persons to assist him in his school. It was indispensible that they should hold the same views as himself. The consequence was, that the organ remained motionless for some two or three weeks. Some time previous to this, a young lady called at John's office, with the MSS. of a work which she had written, desiring, as all authors do, to have her work published. She left it for approval. John had some con- versation with her, and was delighted with the intelligence in which she conversed. The MSS. had to be sent to Toronto for approval ; and was returned, a few days later, "Not accepted." John felt really sorry for the rejected authoress. She seemed so intelligent, and infinitely superior to ordinary women, that he decided to read the MSS. himself, and was astonished to find that it was a work on Christianity, entitled, "Christianity in its Purity." John read and read, and became engrossed in its pages. He found line after line, page after page, argument after argument entirely coinciding with his own views and belief, until he became entranced with delight. \ few days after, the young lady called to make enquiries regarding the fate of her MSS. Our hero received her, and had the unpleasant duty of informing her, that the work had, JOHN THK FLUNKV, 09 been returned, not accepted. Information, which made her appear fearfully dejected. John sympathized with her, and complimented her strongly upon her work, explaining that the work was too good to make it profitable for publication. " If," said he, " your MSS. had been a trumpery novel, it would have been accepted." He then asked her, to favor him with her address, which she did, and found it to be, Miss A. M , of Berkley Lodge, () . The owner of that Lodge, was C. M , Esci., of the wealthy firm of M cV Co., O— . Our hero was still without an organist, and of one he could not think, until a thought suddenly struck him. "Miss M , perhaps plays ; if she does, there will be no difficulty concerning views. I will call upon her to-night and see." At eight o'clock, we find him in the drawing-room of Berkley Lodge, making his request. For an answer he receives, " Yes, Mr. () , I will come and be your organist with pleasure, providing you will promise me, that my work, which upholds your opinions, shall be published." Without one moment's thought, John answered, " Ves, Miss M , I promise that it shall be." And so Miss M , of Berkley Lodge, became our hero's organist. >■•.■■ 100 JOHN THK FrUNKY CHAPTER X. i |i I IE have now arrived into the cold winter, for to-day is the 2nd of December, 18 — , and with it we hear very pleasant news, from the City of O . Our hero is to be married to his organist. Miss A. M , and preparations are being made on an extensive scale, for the celebration of the happy event. Among the most interesting news, is a letter, which our hero has received from his employers, in answer to his, asking leave of absence for two months, when he intends to go to England, and visit the land of his birth, his mother, brothers and sisters, and we will include good and kind Mr. Banks, the husband of his mother. The letter is as follows : JOHN G- F.sq'r. Street, Toronto, Nov'r 29th, 18 -. O . Our deal Sir, We have the greatest of pleasure in granting your request, and take the opportunity of not only conveying to you our congratulations upon the prospect of your happy future, but also of thanking you for the services you have, in the past, so efficiently rendered us ; and of informing you, that upon your resumption of duties, we shall increase your salary to $2,000.00 per annum. With every hope and wish that the future may be one of continual pleasure for you and your bride, We remain. Our dear Sir, Yours truly, B & Co. One of the most interesting events which is likely to occur, was performed yesterday, when our hero was aston- ished to find on meeting his school, that his scholars had chosen a new leader from among their own number. None other was there than Master Rosenthaller, who with an im- mense roll of paper in his hands, stepped forward to inform / ^ m JOHN THK FLUNK V. 101 John, that he had been deputed by the school to read and present to him. an Address; and also to request, that after doing so, they be permitted to have the remainder of the afternoon as a holiday, in commemoration of the event. This request John at once granted, for if he was to hear the whole contents of that roll of paper read, and then reply to it, there would not be much holiday connected with it. The Address was then read, which was found to be as follows ; — AN ADDRESS OK LOVE AND AFFECTION, FROM I'HE SCHOLARS OF THE C; SCHOOL, OF THE CITY OF O , CANADA. To their belm'ed Teacher, on his departure to visit his friends in the land of his birth, John G , Esq., O- . We, Jews and Gentiles, who have been so highly favor- ed, as to be enabled to receive your CJodly teachings, ilo hereljy offer YOU our heart-felt congratulations upon the prospect of your happy future ; and we, also, beg to offer to Miss M , our l)elf)ved organist, who has been so kind and thoughtful in providing for our enjoyment, in assisting you to carry on the work of this school, our most endearing love, and hearty congratulatitms upon the event which is to lake place between you. And we hope and trust, and will pray, that you may lioth return to us. in the full enjoyment of health and happiness. And that we shall again be favored and blessed with your good and truthful teachings. Good-bye, and may the God of our fathers liless you both for ever. Little Master Rosenthaller sat down and wept. It was now John's turn to speak, and never did he find a more difficult obstacle to overcome. It required all his determination of character, brought into full force, to enable him to resist the temptation of joining Master Rosenthaller, and a large number of the scholars who had already followed Rosenthaller's example. But John was found equal to the pleasant, although trying occasion ; and he spoke as follows ; — 102 JOHN THK FMNKV. i h ! f a •*Mv Dear ano Bei.ovfd Scholars, "You have completely taken me by surprise, and have nearly astounileill promise ! " Then the reason of my being here to-day is, that I have kept my promise ! And everything that I own, or pos- sess, I owe to my Mother's Teaching! Good-bye children, and may God bless you." The End.