to two coats when he has none?"

The reformer looked surprised, and the proposal was received with loud
laughter; all the more that he seemed so little to relish the idea of
parting with one of his coats in order to prove the justice of his
principles, and his own sincerity.

To give his argument more force, Reggie North took a sixpence from his
pocket and held it up.

"See here, mates, when I came to this house I said to myself, `The Lord
'as given me success to-day in sellin' His word,'--you know, some of
you, that I'm a seller of Bibles and Testaments?"

"Ay, ay, old boy. _We_ know you," said several voices.

"And I wasn't always that," added North.

"_That's_ true, anyhow," said a voice with a laugh.

"Well. For what I was, I might thank drink and a sinful heart. For
what I am I thank the Lord. But, as I was goin' to say, I came here
intendin' to give this sixpence--it ain't much, but it's all I can
spare--to some poor feller in distress, for I practise what I preach,
and I meant to do it in a quiet way. But it seems to me that, seein'
what's turned up, I'll do more good by givin' it in a public way--so,
there it is, old man," and he put the sixpence on the table in front of
the outrageously miserable man, who could hardly believe his eyes.

The change to an outrageously jovial man, with the marks of misery still
strong upon him, was worthy of a pantomime, and spoke volumes; for,
small though the sum might seem to Sir Crossly Cowel, or Lord
Lorrumdoddy, it represented a full instead of an empty stomach and a
peaceful instead of a miserable night to one wreck of humanity.

The poor man swept the little coin into his pocket and rose in haste
with a "thank 'ee," to go out and invest it at once, but was checked by
North.

"Stop, stop, my fine fellow! Not quite so fast. If you'll wait till
I've finished my little business here, I'll take you to where you'll get
some warm grub for nothin', and maybe an old coat too." Encouraged by
such brilliant prospects, the now jovially-miserable man sat down and
waited while North and Sam went to a more retired spot near the door,
where they resumed the confidential talk that had been interrupted.

"The first thing you must do, my boy," said North, kindly, "is to return
to your father's 'ouse; an' that advice cuts two ways--'eaven-ward an'
earth-ward."

"Oh! no, no, _no_, I can never return home," replied Sam, hurriedly, and
thinking only of the shame of returnin