hey said, "Abe looks very queer, he's ill;" then
they tried to enliven him. "Come, cheer up, old boy, we'll have a
yarn." One would tell some droll tale, and another would say something
comical in order to make him laugh; and laugh he did, he must laugh; it
would never do to let those fellows know what was passing in his mind;
so he laughed loud as any of them, but what a laugh!--how empty and
hollow, how joyless and unreal, how unlike his former bursts of
feeling!--a got-up laugh, which shewed plainer than ever _something was
wrong_. Abe knew it, and he felt it was of no use trying any longer to
keep up a sham happiness, and all the time be in torments from a guilty
conscience; he therefore resolved to give up sin and lead a new life.
He probably was hastened to that decision by a remark which fell from
his father's lips; the old man had noticed for some time that Abe was
not in his usual spirits. He would come home of an evening and sit
looking into the fire for an hour without speaking or moving; he had
given over singing in the house, and he seemed as if he hadn't spirit
enough left to whistle to the little bird in the cage; his meals lay
almost untasted, and his tea would go cold before he had taken any.

"Come, my lad, thaa mun get thee tea thaa knows," said the old father
one evening.

"Yes," said Abe, as he pretended to push something into his mouth.

"What's matter with th'?" the father inquired; "thaa's not like
theesen, nor hasn't been for mony a week."

Abe's eyes grew moist, and his chin trembled, but he called himself to
order, no babyism now.

The old man, still looking at him, and keen enough to notice the
struggle he had to master his feelings, went on to say, "Thaa's poorly,
my lad, thaa mun goa to th' doctor, and see if he canna gie thee
some'at."

"No earthly doctor can do onything for me," answered Abe; "it's th'
Physician of souls that I want. Oh, father, I am unhappy; my sins are
troubling me noight and day; I don't know what will become of me: _I
feel like lost_."

"My poor lad, the Lord have mercy on thee," replied the old man, as Abe
put on his cap and walked hurriedly out of the house. He went out
scarcely knowing why; perhaps to hide his trouble from his dear old
father; perhaps to smother his emotions, which were rapidly gaining the
mastery over him, or maybe he knew not why,--an impulse was upon him,
and it carried him forth into the cool evening air; away he went at a
brisk