'Cos I shouldn't have knowed one as has caused me heavy sorrow."

Poor Jacob hid his face in his hands, and, spite of himself; the tears
_would_ ooze out and trickle through his fingers.

"Come, my lad," said his new friend, compassionately; "you mustn't fret
so. You say you love the Lord; well, he will not leave you
comfortless."

"It's the drink, the cursed drink, as done it," said the other, half to
himself.

"Well, my lad; and if you _have_ been led astray, and are gradely sorry
for it, there's room in the Lord's heart for you still."

"Nay, it isn't that. I'm a total abstainer to the back-bone, and have
been for years."

"The Lord be praised!" cried Old Crow, rising from his seat, and
grasping the hand of his companion with all his might. "I shall love
you twice over now. I'm an old teetotaller myself; and have been these
many years. Come, you tell me your tale; and when we've had our tea,
I'll tell you mine."

Jacob then told his story, from his first encountering Captain
Merryweather at Liverpool, till the time when he lost sight of his young
master.

"And now, old friend," he concluded, "I'm just like a ship afloat as
don't know which way to steer. I'm fair weary of the sea, an' I don't
know what to turn myself to on land."

"Perhaps we may set that right," replied the old man. "But here's
Deborah; so we'll just get our tea."

The kitchen in which they were seated was a low but comfortable
apartment. There was nothing much in the way of furniture there, but
everything was clean and tidy; while the neat little window-curtain, the
well-stuffed cushion in the old man's rocking-chair, and the broad warm
rug on the hearth, made of countless slips of cloth of various colours
dexterously sewn together, showed that loving female hands had been
caring for the knife-grinder's comfort. Deborah was a bright, cheery-
looking factory-girl, who evidently loved the old man, and worked for
him with a will. The tea was soon set out, Deborah joining them by Old
Crow's invitation. Jacob had much to tell about Australia which deeply
interested both his hearers, especially Deborah. When the tea-things
were removed, and Old Crow and Jacob were left alone, the former said,--

"Come; friend Jacob, draw thy chair to the fire. Thou hast given me thy
tale, and a sad one it is; now thou shalt hear mine."

They drew closer up on to the hearth, and the old man proceeded with his
story.

"I were born and reared in