one; a month an'
he's homeless. A whisper goes down the long path o' gossip. Was
he a thief an' had he burned the record of his crime? The scene
changes, an' let me count the swift, relentless years."

The old man paused a moment, looking up thoughtfully.

"Well, say ten or mayhap a dozen passed--or more or less it matters
little. Boy an' man, where were they? O the sad world, sor! To
all that knew them they were as people buried in their graves.
Think o' this drowning in the flood o' years--the stately ships
sunk an' rotting in oblivion; some word of it, sor, may well go
into thy book."

The tinker paused a moment, lighting his pipe, and after a puff or
two went on with the tale.

"It is a winter day in a great city--there are buildings an' crowds
an' busy streets an' sleet'in the bitter wind. I am there,--an' me
path is one o' many crossing each other like--well, sor, like lines
on a slate, if thou were to make ten thousand o' them an' both eyes
shut. I am walking slowly, an' lo! there is the banker. I meet
him face to face--an ill-clad, haggard, cold, forgotten creature.
I speak to him.

"'The blessed Lord have mercy on thee,' I said.

"'For meeting thee?' said the poor man. 'What is thy name?'

"'Roderick Darrel.'

"'An' I,' said he, sadly, 'am one o' the lost in hell. Art thou
the devil?'

"'Nay, this hand o' mine hath opened thy door an' blacked thy boots
for thee often,' said I. 'Dost thou not remember?'

"'Dimly--it was a long time ago,' he answered.

"We said more, sor, but that is no part o' the story. Very well!
I went with him to his lodgings,--a little cold room in a
garret,--an' there alone with me he gave account of himself. He
had shovelled, an' dug, an' lifted, an' run errands until his
strength was low an' the weight of his hand a burden. What hope
for him--what way to earn a living!

"'Have courage, man,' I said to him. 'Thou shalt learn to mend
clocks. It's light an' decent work, an' one may live by it an' see
much o' the world.'

"There was an old clock, sor, in a heap o' rubbish that lay in a
corner. I took it apart, and soon he saw the office of each wheel
an' pinion an' the infirmity that stopped them an' the surgery to
make them sound. I tarried long in the great city, an' every
evening we were together in the little room. I bought him a kit o'
tools an' some brass, an' we would shatter the clockworks an' build
them up again until he had skill, sor, to make