s
enlightened, there is one--a duplex truth--which lies at the foundation
of everything. It is unchangeable. Without it all other facts would be
valueless, and I would recommend every man, woman, and child to nail it
to the mast without hesitation, namely--"God is love," and "Love is the
fulfilling of the law."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FORGIVE AND FORGET: A LIFEBOAT STORY.

Old Captain Bolter said he would never forgive Jo Grain--never. And
what Captain Bolter said he meant: for he was a strong and self-willed
man.

There can be no doubt that the Captain had some ground of complaint
against Grain: for he had been insulted by him grossly--at least so he
thought. It happened thus:--

Joseph Grain was a young fisherman, and the handsomest, tallest,
strongest, and most active among the youths of the little seaport town
in which he dwelt. He was also one of the lifeboat's crew, and many a
time had his strong hand been extended in the midst of surging sea and
shrieking tempest to save the perishing. Moreover, he was of a frank,
generous disposition; was loved by most of his comrades; envied by a
few; hated by none.

But with all his fine qualities young Grain had a great and serious
fault--he was rather fond of strong drink. It must not, however, be
supposed that he was a drunkard, in the ordinary sense at least of that
term. No, he was never seen to stagger homeward, or to look idiotic:
but, being gifted with a robust frame and finely-strung nerves, a very
small quantity of alcohol sufficed to rouse within him the spirit of
combativeness, inducing him sometimes to say and do things which
afterwards could not be easily unsaid or undone, however much he might
repent.

One afternoon Grain and some of his mates were sauntering towards the
little lighthouse that stood at the end of their pier. It was an
old-fashioned stone pier, with a dividing wall or parapet down the
middle of it. As they walked along, some of the younger men began to
question Jo about a rumour that had recently been spread abroad.

"Come, now, Jo," said one, named Blunt, "don't try to deceive us; you
can't deny that you're after Cappen Bolter's little gal."

"Well, I _won't_ deny it," replied Jo, with sudden energy and somewhat
forced gaiety, while the blood mounted to his bronzed cheeks: "moreover,
I don't care who knows it, for there's not a sweeter lass in all the
town than Mary Bolter, an' the man that would be ashamed to own his
fondne