n whom you have any legitimate claim, as a last resource you were to
apply to one with whom you have but a distant connection, and but an
occasional acquaintance--and that when you had made your request for the
loan of two or three hundred pounds, fully anticipating a refusal (from
the feeling that he who goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing)--I say,
suppose, to your astonishment, that this generous person was to present
you with a cheque on his banker for one thousand pounds, demanding no
interest, no legal security, and requests you only to pay it at your
convenience--I ask you, Sawbridge, what would be your feelings towards
such a man?"

"I would die for him," replied Sawbridge, with emotion.

"And suppose that, by the merest chance, or from a whim of the moment,
the son of that man was to be placed under your protection?"

"I would be a father to him," replied Sawbridge.

"But we must proceed a little further: suppose that you were to find the
lad was not all that you could wish--that he had imbibed erroneous
doctrines, which would probably, if not eradicated, be attended with
consequences fatal to his welfare and happiness, would you therefore, on
that account, withdraw your protection, and leave him to the mercy of
others, who had no claims of gratitude to sway them in his favour?"

"Most certainly not, sir," replied Sawbridge; "on the contrary, I would
never part with the son until, by precept or otherwise, I had set him
right again, and thus had, as far as it was possible, paid the debt of
gratitude due to the generous father."

"I hardly need say to you, Sawbridge, after what has passed, that this
lad you have just come from, is the son, and that Mr Easy of Forest
Hill is the father."

"Then, sir, I can only say, that not only to please you, but also from
respect to a man who has shown such goodwill towards one of our cloth, I
shall most cheerfully forgive all that has passed between the lad and
me, and all that may probably take place before we make him what he
ought to be."

"Thank you, Sawbridge; I expected as much, and am not disappointed in my
opinion of you."

"And now, Captain Wilson, pray what is to be done?"

"We must get him on board, but not with a file of marines--that will do
more harm than good. I will send a note, requesting him to breakfast
with me to-morrow morning, and have a little conversation with him. I
do not wish to frighten him: he would not scruple to run back to Forest
Hill