nship.
There was a social circle in which his heart and intellect could expand,
at least for a while, till the strong liquor mounted up and overcame his
brain; and then, even then, there was the forgetfulness, the deep
slumber of intoxication, utterly oblivious of all things--perhaps the
greatest pleasure of all. Smith went there, and who of his own class
would blame him? And if his own class did not, of what use is it for
other and higher classes to preach morality to him? It is a man's own
comrades, his own class, whose opinions he dreads and conforms to. If
they condemned him for going there, he would avoid the public-house. But
they would have called him a fool if he avoided it. In their logic who
could say they were wrong? A man who is happy is a long while getting
drunk, he talks as much as he drinks; but Smith was dull and silent, and
drank steadily. It was not late, but when the house closed he could but
just keep his feet. In the thick darkness and the driving rain he
staggered on, unconscious of the road he was taking, but bearing roughly
towards home. The cold air rather more stupefied him than brought him to
himself. Insensibly he wandered with uncertain steps down a lane which
led by a gentle slope out into the fields, the fall of the ground
guiding his footsteps, and then stumbling over the root of an ash-tree,
fell heavily on the wet grass. His eyes, half-shut before, closed as if
by clockwork, and in a moment he was firm asleep. His hat had fallen
from his brow, and the grizzled hair was blown about by the wind as it
came in gusts through the hedge. His body was a little sheltered by the
tree, but his chest was open and bare half-way down his waistcoat; and
the heavy drops fell from the boughs of the ash on his stalwart neck,
gradually saturating his shirt. It may have been that the cold numbed
him and rendered him more insensible than he otherwise would have been.
No star shone out that night; all was darkness, clouds, and rain till
the dawn broke.

Soon after dawn, the young navvy, going to his work by a short cut,
found Smith still asleep, and shook him till he got up. He was stupid
beyond all power of words to express; but at last came to a dim idea
that he must get home. Then the young navvy left him, anxious about
being late at his employment, and John Smith slowly _felt_ his way to
his own door. His wife, already up, opened it. "Thee varmint! thee never
gi'ed I that shilling last night for the bak