ed!" exclaimed Giles, laughing; "a fellow-feeling makes you
wondrous sharp, I suppose, for I had not observed that interesting fact.
But why do you speak in such pitiful tones of Aggy?"

"Because she is an invalid, and her lover is a drunkard. Sufficient
reasons, I should think."

"No, not quite, because she has almost recovered her usual health while
here, and poor Ivor is, after all, only one of the sinners for whom
Jesus Christ died. I have great hopes of him."

"I'm glad to hear you say so, Jackman, though I don't see that the fact
of our Saviour's dying for us all proves his case to be hopeful. Are
there not hundreds of men of whom the same may be said, yet they are not
delivered from drunkenness, and don't seem likely to be?"

"That is unquestionably true," rejoined his friend; "but such men as you
refer to have not been brought to the condition of renouncing self, and
trusting _only_ in our Saviour. They want to have some credit in the
matter of their own salvation--hence they fail. Ivor, I have good
reason to believe, _has_ been brought to that condition--a condition
which insures success--hence my great hopes of him. I became aware of
his state of mind, partly from having had a long talk with him the other
day, and partly from the report of his good old mother. She told me
yesterday that Ivor had come to her, laid his hand on her shoulder, and
said, `Mither, I've lost all hope o' mysel' noo,' to which the old woman
answered, `That's the best news I've heard for mony a day, my son, for
noo the Lord wull let ye see what He can do for ye.' Ivor's reply to
that was, `I believe ye're richt, mither.' Now I think that was a great
deal to come from two such undemonstrative Celts."

At this point in the conversation they reached a part of the road where
a footpath diverged down to the river, the road itself rising abruptly
towards the Eagle Cliff.

"We separate here," said Jackman. "I need scarcely ask where you are
going, or what going to do! Botany, coupled with inaccessible cliffs,
seems to be your mania just now. Oh! John Barret, my friend, may I not
with truth, in your case, paraphrase a well-known couplet,--

"Milly in the heart breeds Milly in the brain,
And this reciprocally that again?"

"Your paraphrases are about equal to your compositions, Jackman, and, in
saying that, I don't compliment you. Pray, may I ask why you have
forsaken your favourite weapon, the gun, and taken to the rod