my grave. You saved my life; and I am sure no one knew me, so that I
hope to save my reputation. It has been a terrible lesson to me, and
with God's forgiveness for the past, and his help for the future, I will
never drink another drop of wine or liquor."

"I am sorry it happened, sir; but I am willing to do all I can for you
without any money," I interposed.

"My gratitude, if nothing else, compels me to give you what I have
given; and I hope you never will mention the matter."

"Never, sir!"

"I know that I deserve the humiliation of an exposure," continued the
squire, in a very mournful tone; "but I feel that the facts would injure
the cause of truth and religion more than they would injure me. My
brother used to think I was a hypocrite because I attended to the
concerns of the soul. I don't know that he has thought so since I went
into the Senate. He used to laugh at me for going to the prayer
meetings; and I don't know what he would say if he should learn that I
got drunk and fell into the river."

"He will never find it out from me, sir; but I don't want all this
money."

"Keep it; but I trust you will not spend it foolishly, nor let my
brother know that you have it."

"I will do neither. Captain Fishley and I don't get along well enough
together for me to say anything to him."

"Why, what's the matter?"

I told my story; for I felt that if the senator could trust me, I could
trust him. I did not say anything about my half-formed intention to run
away. The squire was very sorry there was any trouble; but, as it was a
family matter, he did not like to say much about it, though he promised
to do all he could for me.

"I think I won't go any farther, Buck," said he. "I suppose you will
despise me, for you know me better than any other person."

"I'm sure I don't despise you."

"I'm confident my misfortune--if it can be called by that name--is all
for the best. When I go home, I shall come out for temperance, and I
think this journey will do me good."

I thought it must be very mortifying for him to talk to me in that way;
but he was sincerely penitent, and I am sure he was a better Christian
than ever before. He was a truer man than his brother in every respect,
and I should have had a high regard for him, even if he had not given
me a hundred dollars.

I had money enough now to pay my own and my sister's passage to New
Orleans in a steamboat; but I was so fascinated with the raft that I
could not