a laugh.

"Why, Sir James," he said, "do I look very moping or melancholy? If so,
my looks must belie my spirit, for I feel very much the reverse, and
from past experience--which is now considerable--I expect to have a
great deal of rejoicing in my work, for it does not all consist in
painful strivings with unrepentant men and women. Occasionally men in
our position know something of that inexpressible joy which results from
a grateful glance of the eye or a strong squeeze of the hand from some
one whom we have helped to pluck from the very edge of hell. It is
true, I do not expect to make much money in my profession, but my Master
promises me sufficient, and a man needs no more. But even if much money
were essential, there is no doubt that I should get it, for the silver
and gold of this world are in the hands of my Father."

"Where do you work?" asked Sir James abruptly.

"Chiefly in the neighbourhood of Archangel Court. It was there I fell
and sinned; it was there my Saviour rescued me: it is there I feel bound
to labour."

"Very well, I won't press this matter further," said the Baronet,
rising; "but remember, if you ever get into a better frame of mind, I
shall be happy to see you."

Profound and various were the thoughts of the reformed drunkard that
afternoon as he left his friend's abode and walked slowly towards the
City. There was a strange feeling of sadness in his heart which he
could not account for. It was not caused by the sacrifice of worldly
good he had just made, for that had cost him no effort. The desire to
rescue the perishing had been infused so strongly into his soul that he
had become quite regardless of mere temporal advancement. Neither had
he been unfaithful, as far as he could remember, in the recent
conversation--at least not in words. The hopes and joys which he had
truly referred to ought to have been as strong as ever within him,
nevertheless his spirit was much depressed. He began to think of the
position from which he had fallen, and of the great amount of good he
might have done for Christ in a higher sphere of society--but this
thought he repelled as a recurrence of pride.

As he came to St. Martin's-le-Grand he stopped, and, forgetting the
bustling crowd of people, buses, cabs, and carts by which he was
surrounded, allowed his mind to wander into the past. It was on the
broad steps of the Post-Office that he had been first led astray by the
man who wished to compa