upon him.
His proud bad feelings were already melting.

"You look half-starved," said Mr. Leyton, "draw nearer to the fire,
you can sit down on that stool whilst I question you; and mind you
answer me the truth. I am not a magistrate, but of course can easily
hand you over to justice if you will not allow me to benefit you in my
own way."

George still stood twisting his ragged cap in his trembling fingers,
and with so much emotion depicted on his face, that the good clergyman
resumed, in still more soothing accents: "I have no wish to do you
anything but good, my poor boy; look up at me, and see if you cannot
trust me; you need not be thus frightened. I only desire to hear the
tale of misery your appearance indicates, to relieve it if I can."

Here the young culprit's heart smote him. Was this the man whose house
he had tried to burn? On whom he had wished to bring ruin and perhaps
death? Was it a snare spread for him to lead to confession? But when
he looked on that grave compassionate countenance, he felt that it was
_not_.

"Come, my lad, tell me all."

George had for years heard little but oaths, and curses, and ribald
jests, or the thief's jargon of his father's associates, and had been
constantly cuffed and punished; but the better part of his nature was
not extinguished; and at those words from the mouth of his _enemy_,
he dropped on his knees, and clasping his hands, tried to speak: but
could only sob. He had not wept before during that day of anguish; and
now his tears gushed forth so freely, his grief was so passionate as
he half knelt, half rested on the floor, that the good questioner saw
that sorrow must have its course ere calm could be restored.

The young penitent still wept, when a knock was heard at the door,
and a lady entered. It was the clergyman's wife; he kissed her as she
asked how he had succeeded with the wicked man in the jail.

"He told me," replied Mr. Leyton, "that he had a son whose fate
tormented him more than his punishment. Indeed his mind was so
distracted respecting the youth, that he was scarcely able to
understand my exhortations. He entreated me with agonizing energy to
save his son from such a life as he had led, and gave me the address
of a woman in whose house he lodged. I was, however, unable to find
the boy in spite of many earnest inquiries."

"Did you hear his name?" asked the wife.

"George West," was the reply.

At the mention of his name, the boy ceased to s