The Novelist.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 232, 19 February 1876, Page 3

The Novelist.

THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT. Isr Three Parts. BY THE AUTHORS OF " READY-MONET SIORTIBOY," &o. PART 11. There was still the strange look in my host's eyes, a sort of passionate and eager longing. "I am very well, thank you, sir, and more grateful than I can tell you." " Hang the gratitude ! Tell me if you feel any sense of repletion ? Does the blood seem mounting to the head ? Are you quite free from any giddiness ? No thickness in the speech ? It's wonderful, it's providential, my finding you. Such a windfall ; and just when I most wanted it. Our blessings truly come when we least expect them." This was strange language, but the whole proceedings were so strange that I hardly noticed it. Besides, I was extremely comfortable after my dinner, and disposed to rest. "Now," he went on, "while you are digesting—by the way, the digestion is, I trust, unimpaired by drink or excess ? Quite so ; and what I expected in so good and so gifted a young man. Like an ostrich, as you say. Ho, ho ! ha, ha ! like an ostrich ! It is indeed too much. _ Tell me, now, something gently and dispassionately, so as not to injure your digestion, about your history." I told him all. While I related my simple story he interrupted now and then with some fresh question on the growth, the endurance, the regularity of my appetite, to which I gave satisfactory answers. It seemed to me that he took no kind of interest in what I told him, and was chiefly anxious about my appetite. When I had quite finished he went to the table—l noticed then that all traces of the dinner had disappeared—and laid out a document, by which he placed a pen. Then he drew a chair, sat down in front of me, and assumed a serious air. " Come," he said, "to business."

I had not the smallest notion what the business was, but I bowed and waited. Perhaps he was going to offer me a clerkship. Visions of a large salary, to suit my expansive appetite, came across my brain. " In your case," he began, " the possession of so great an appetite must be attended with serious inconveniences. You.have no money ; in a few hours you will be hungry again ; you will endure great pain and suffering, greater than is felt by men less largely endowed with the greatest blessing—l mean with appetite." ." Yes ; " I this twist of mine, especially when I am hard up." He almost jumped out of his chair. "Why, there," he cried, "what is the use of words ? We are agreed already. Nothing could be more fortunate. Let us have no more beating about the bush. Young man, I will rid you of this nuisance; 1 will buy your appetite of you." I only stared. Was the old gentleman mad? "It is a strange offer, I know," he went on, " a strange, offer, and you have probably never heard a more remarkable one. ...But it is genuine. I will buy your appetite of yon." "Buy my—buy my appetite ?"->; " Nothing easier. Read this." He gave me the paper which he had laid on. the table, prepared in readiness, I suppose, for me. I was as follows : "I, Luke Lucraft, being in sound mind and in good health, and of the mature age of twenty-four, do voluntarily and of my own free will and accord agree and promise to resign my appetite entirely and altogether for the use of Ebenezer Grumbelow from the day and hour of the execution of this deed. In return whereof I asjree to accept a monthly allowance of also to date from ,the moment of signature, with a sum of £SO, to be placed in my hands. I promise also that I will carefully study to preserve by regular habits and exercise the gift of a generous appetite ; that I will not work immoderately, sit up late, practice vicious courses, or do. anything that may tend to impair the regular recurrence of a healthy and vigorous hunger." Then followed a place for the signature and one for the witnesses. . ' "You see," he went on, "I ask for no unpleasant condition. I .give you a free life, coupled with the simple condition of ordinary care. Do you agree ?" " I hardly know ; it is so sudden." "Come, come"—he spoke.with a harshness quite new—"come, let us have no nonsense. Do you agree ?" I read it over again. "Give me a little time," I said. " Let me reflect till to-morrow morning." " Reflect !" his face flushed purple, and his bloodshot eyes literally glared. "Reflect ! what the devil does the boy want to reflect about ? Has he got a penny, a friend, or a chance in the whole world ? I will give you five minutes—come." He rose up and stood before me. As I looked in his face a curious dimness came over my eyes ; he seemed to recede before me ; disappeared altogether. When I heard him speak again his voice sounded far, far off, but thin and clear, as if if; come through some long tube. "Luke Lucraft," it said, " see yourself," "Yes ;- 1 saw myself, and though outside of what j saw, I felt the same emotions as if I had been the actual performer in the scenes I witnessed. I was starving, and with feelings of bitter shame I begged for money of the passers-by. A woman gave me a shilling, and I hurried away to buy something to eat. I was sleeping among the stalks, straw, and vegetable refuse of Co vent-garden Market. I awoke hungry and miserable. I begged again, and got nothing. Then—then—then I stole. I was not detected, and I stole again. The second time I was not detected. There came the third time, when I was seen and apprei tended. The misery and shame of the hour

•when I stood before the magistrate, in that horrible vision of a possible future, I cannot even yet forgot. With this a constant sense of unsatisfied and craving hunger ; a feeling as if hunger was the greatest evil in the whole world ; a longing to get rid of it. Last scene of all, I was lying dead, starved to death with hunger and cold, in a miserable, bare, and naked garret. By what black art did the old man delude iny senses ? It was a lie, and he knew it. I should have got some honest work, if only to wheel bricks or carry loads. " There is your future, young man"—there came up from the distance the voice _of the tempter—"a gloomy prospect : a miserable life, a wretched ending. Now look at the other side." The scene changed. I saw myself, but m another guise. My hunger had vanished ; I felt it no more. I was well dressed, cheerful, and light-hearted ; I was dancing in a room full of pretty girls ; I was singing and playing; I was wandering among the woods and flowers; I was reading on a sofa ; I was lying in the sunshine ; I was looking at pictures ; I was at the theatre ; I was riding in the Park ; I was following the hounds ; I was making love to Juliet. The pictures changed as fast as my fancy wandered from one thing to another. In all I was the same—free from the downward and earthly pressure of want and hunger, relieved from anxiety, with plenty of money, and full of all sweet and innocent fancies. Lies again. But by what power could this necromancer so cheat and gull my brain. " Very different scenes these, my dear youncra friend," he said in a winning voice, " are they not ? Now," he went on, and his voice was quite close to me, " you have had your five minutes." The cloud passed from my eyes. I was sitting again in the octagonal room, the old man before me, watch in hand, as if he was counting the seconds. " Five minutes and a quarter," he growled. " Now choose."

" I have chosen," I replied. " I accept your offer." The influence of the things I had seen was too strong upon me. I could neither reason nor reflect.

" I accept your offer." "Why, that's brave," he said, with a gigantic sigh of relief. " That's what I expected of you. Boul-de-neige Boul-de-neige !" He clapped his hands. Instantly the horrible old negro appeared behind his master's chair as if he had sprung up from the ground. I believe he had. He looked more like a devil than ever, grinning from ear to ear, and his two eyes glowing in the candlelight like two great coals. The light fell too upon the seams and wrinkles of his face, bring them out like the hills and valleys in a raised map. Strange as it all was to me, this ancient servitor produced the strangest effect upon me of anything. " Boule-de-neige is witness for us," said the old gentleman. "Boul-de-neige, this young gentleman, Mr. Luke Lucraft, is about to sign a little deed, to which, as a matter of form, we require your signature too, as witness." ' "Cluck!" said the negro. "Bis young gegleman berry lucky—him berry lucky. What time massa take him dinner ?" "When do you think you shall be fairly hungry again ?" he asked me. "Now, no boastings—no false pretence and pride, because it will be.the worse for you. Answer truthfuHy. It is now six." " I shotild say that at nine I should be able to take some supper, and at ten I shaU certainly be hungry again. You see I have taken such an immense dinner." "Good." He turned to Boule-de-neige. " You see, the young man is modest and promises fairly. I shall have supper—a plentiful supper —at ten punctually. Mr. Lucraft will now sign." I advanced to the table and took up the pen, but there was no ink. " Cluck !" said the infernal negrO with another grin—" cluck ! Massa wait HHy bit." He took my left hand in his soft and cold paw. I felt a sharp prick at my wrist. " You will dip the pen," said the old gentleman, "in the blood. It is a mere form.'.'

" Cluck !" said Boule-de-neige. "A mere form, because we have no ink handy."

" Cluck-cluck !"

I signed my name as desired, and, following the directions of the old gentleman, placed my finger on the red wafer at the margin, saying, " I declare this my act and deed." Then I gave the pen to Boule-de-neige. He signed after me in a firm flowing hand, "Boule-de-neige." As I looked, the letters seemed somehow to shape themselves into "Beelzebub." I looked at-him with a kind of terror. The creature grinned in my face as if he defined my thoughts, and gave utterance to one of his hideous " Clucks."

Then I began to feel the same faintness which I had at first experienced. It u:ounted upwards from my feet slowly, so that I heard the old gentleman's voice, though I saw nothing. It grew gradually fainter. "Supper at ten, Boule-de-neige," he was saying ; " I feel getting hungry already. What shall I do with myself till ten o'clock ? lam certainly getting hungry. I think I can have it served at half-past nine. O, blessed day ! O, thankful blessed d»y • Boule-de-neige, it must be supper for three —for four—for five. I shall have champagne—the Perrifer* -Touet — and curacao punch afterwards. Curacao pui?ch —I haven't tasted it for three months and more. O, .what a blessed—blessed—blessed; —"

I heard .rio more because my senses failed me altogether, -and his voice died away in my ears.

When I came to myself I was leaning against the post ,in jßucklersbury, where I had met the old manl

A whiff, of cooked mea*; from the restaurant, which caught me as I opened my eyes, produced a singular feeling of disgust. "Pah," I muttered, fl VQ&sp mutton J" &%4 moved from

the spot. My hunger was gone; that was ; quite certain. . I felt a quietness about those regions, wherever they may be, which belong to appetite ; I was almost dreamy in the repose which followed a morning so stormy. I walked quietly away homewards in a kind of daze, trying to make out something of what had happened. The first thing I found I could not remember was the name of the old gentleman. When that came back to me and under what circumstances I will tell you as we get along. Bit by bit I recalled the whole events of the afternoon, one after the other. I saw the old man, with his purple face and bloodshot eyes and white hair ; I saw the wrinkled and seamed old negro ; I saw the octagonal room without doors or windows ; the splendid dinner; the host watching my every gesture ; I remembered everything except the name of the man to whom I had sold—my appetite. It was so strange that I laughed when I thought of it. I must have been drunk : he gave me a good dinner and I took too much wine ; but then how was it that I remembered clearly every, even the smaUest, detail ? On the. bed in the one room which constituted my lodging I fonnd a letter. It was from a firm of lawyers, dated that evening at half-past six—half an hour after I signed the paper—stating that they were empowered by a client, whose name was not mentioned, to give me the sum of £3O monthly, to begin from that day, and to be paid to me personally. How did they get their instructions then ? And it was all true !

I was too tired with the day's to think any more, and though it was only nine o'clock I went to bed and feU fast asleep. In an hour I awoke again, with a choking sensation as if I was eating too much. I knew instantly what was going on, and by a kind of prophetic insight. The old man was taking his supper, and taking more than was good— -for me. I sprang from the bed gasping for breath. Presently, as I gathered, he began to drink too much, as well. My brain went round and round. I laughed, sang, and danced ; and soon after with a heavy fall I rolled senseless on the carpet, and remembered nothing more. It was early in the morning when I awoke, still lying on the floor. I had a splitting headache. I had faUen against some corner of the furniture and blackened one eye. I had broken two chairs somehow or other. I was cold, ill, and shaken. I got into bed, and tried to remember what had happened. Clearly I must have made a drunken beast of myself over the dinner, and reeled home with my head fuU of fancies and dreams ; perhaps the dinner itself was a dream and a hallucination too ; if so, the pangs of hunger would soon recommence. But they did not. Then I fell asleep, and did not awake again till the sun was high and the clock striking ten. How ill and wretched I felt as I dressed ! My hand shook, my eyes were red, my face swollen. Surely I must have been intoxicated. I bad been, up to that day at least, a temperate man, partly no doubt from the very wholesome reason which keeps so many of us sober—the necessity of poverty ; but of course I had not arrived at four-and-twenty years and seen so much of the world without recognising the signs of too much drink. I had them, every one ; and, as most men know too well, they are aU summed up in the simple expression, "hot coppers." Alas, I was destined to become only too familiar with the accursed symptoms. s , Involuntarily, when I had dressed, I put my hands in my pockets ; there money, gold—sovereigns—my pocket was full of them. I counted them in a stupor. Porty-nine, and one roUed into the corner—fifty ; it was part of the sum for which I had sold my appetite ; and on the table lay the letter from Messrs. Crackett & Charges, inviting me to draw thirty pounds a month. Then it was all true ! I sat down, and with my throbbing temples and feverish pulse tried to make it out. Everything became plain except the name of the purchaser—Mr. —Mr. — I remembered Boule-de-neige, the house, the room, and the dinner, but not the name of that arch-deceiver, the _ whole of whose villainy I was far from realising yet, and until it was told me later on I never did remember the name. It was strange. Men are said to have sold their souls to the devil for money, bartering away an eternity of happiness for a few years of pleasure ; but as for me I had exchanged, as it seemed at first sight, nothing but the inconvenience of a healty appetite with nothing to eat for the means of Hving comfortably without it. There could be no sin in such a transaction ; it was on a different level altogether from the bargain made by Paust. And- there were the broad, the benevolent facts, so to speak—my pocket fuU of sovereigns, and the letter instructing me to call at an office for thirty pounds monthly. Benevolent facts I thought them. You shall see. No sin could.be laid to my door for the transaction. You shall judge. No harm could follow so simple a piece of business. You shall read. On my way out I met the landlady, who gave me notice to quit at the end of the week. " I thought you were a quiet and a sober young man," she said. "Ah, never will I trust to good looks again. Me and the lodgers kept awake till two in the morning with your singing and dancing, let alone banging the floor with the chairs. Not an hour after your week's up, if you was to pray on your knees, shall you stay. And next door threatening the police ; and me a quiet woman for twenty years." My heart sank again. But after all, perhaps it was I myself, not the good-eld gentleman, my kind patron and benefactor, at all, who was the cause of this disturbance. It was undoubtedly true that I had drunk a great quantity of wine. I begged her pardon humbly, and passed out. It was now eleven o'clock, but I felt no desire for breakfast. That was an experience quite novel to me. Still I went to a coffeehouse, according to habit, and ordered some tea and a rasher. When they came I discovered, with a kind of horrid foreboding of worse misfortune, that my taste was gone. Except

that one thing was solid and the other liquid, I distinguished nothing. Nor did my sense of smell assist me ; as I found later, my nose was affected agreeably or disagreeably, but I had no other use for it. Gunpowder, sulphuretted hydrogen gas, and tobacco offended my nose. So did certain smells belonging to cookery. On the other hand, certain flowers, tea, and claret pleased me, but I was unable to distinguish between them. Not only could I not taste things, but I had no gratification in eating them. I ate and drank mechanically, because I knew that the body must be kept going on something. All this, however, and more, came by degrees. After making a forced breakfast I bent my steps to the lawyers, who had an office in Lincoln's-inn-fields. The letter was received by a conceited young clerk in shiny black habiliments, and a selfsatisfied manner.

" Ha," he said, " I thought he would soon come round to us after the letter. Sign that. You haven't been long. None of them are."

It was a receipt, and I was on the point of asking if it was to be signed in blood, when he settled the question by giving me the ink. " There, Luke Lucraft, across the eightpenny stamp. I'm not allowed to answer any questions you may put, Mr. Lucraft, nor to ask you any ; so take your money, and good-morn-ing. I suppose, like the rest of them, you don't know the name of your benefactor, and would like to—yes ; but you needn't ask me ; and I've orders not to admit you to see either Mr. Charges or Mr. Crackett. They'd trouble enough with the last but one. He broke into their office once drunk, and laid about him with the ruler." I burst into a cold dew of terror. " However, Mr. Lucraft, I hope you will be more fortunate than your predecessors." " Where are they ? Who are they ?" " I do not know where they are, not for a certainty," he replied with a grin. " But we may guess. Dead and buried they are, all of them. Gone to kingdom come ; all died of the same thing too. Delicious trimmings killed them. Poor old gentleman ! He's too good for this world, as everybody knows, and the more he's taken in the more he's deceived. Anyhow, he's very unlucky in his pensioners. He did say when the last went off that he would have no more ; he wept over it, and declared that his bounty was always abused ; but there never was such a benevolent old chap. I only wish he take a fancy to me." " What did you say is his name, by the way ?" The clerk looked at me with a cunning wink. "If you don't know, I am sure I do not," he said. "Here is the cheque, Mr. Lucraft, and I hope you will continue to come here and draw it a good deal longer than the other chaps. But there's a blight on the pensioners. Lord, what a healthy chap Tom Kirby—he was a Monmouth man—looked when he first came for his cheques !, As strong as a bull and as fresh as a lark."

"A good appetite had he ?" "No ; couldn't eat anything after a bit ; said he fancied nothing. He pined away, and died in a galloping consumption before the third month was due. Nobody ever saw him drinking, but he was drunk every night like the rest. Perhaps it's only coincidence. Better luck to you, Mr. Lucraft !" This conversation did not reassure me, and I determined to go over to Bucklersbury at once and see my patron. I found the post against which I was leaning when he accosted me ; there was no doubt about that, for the hares and the cauliflowers were still in the shopwindows, only they looked disgusting to me this morning. I found the street into which he had led me, and then —then It was the most extraordinary thing, I could not find the door by which we entered. Not only was there no door, but there seemed no place where such a door as I remembered could exist in this little winding narrow street. I went up and down twice. I looked at all the windows. I asked a policeman if he had ever seen an old_ gentleman about the street such as I described, or such a negro as Boule-de-neige ; but he could give me no information. Only as I prowled slowly along the pavement I heard distinctly it gave me a nervous shock that I could not account for—the infernal " Cluck-cluck !" of the negro with the cold soft hands, the wrinkled skin, and the fiery red eyes. He was clucking at me from some hiding-place of his own, where he was safe. He had done me no harm that I knew of, but I hated him at that moment.

I was by this time not at all elated at my good fortune. I even craved to have back again what I had sold. I felt heavy at heart, and had a presentiment of fresh trouble before me. I thought of the fate of those unknown and unfortunate predecessors, all dead in consequence of drink, evil courses, and D.T. Heavens ! was I too to die miserably with delirium tremens, after I had sold my taste, and could only tell brandy from water, like the cask which might hold either, by the smell ? At half-past one, the luncheon time for all who have appetites, the sense of being gorged came upon me again, but this time without the giddiness. I went to a cigar divan in the Strand, and fell sound asleep. When I awoke at six the oppression had passed away. And now I began to realize something of the consequences of my act; I say something, because worse, far worse, remained behind. I was doomed, I saw clearly, to be the victim of the old man's gluttony. He would eat and I should suffer. Already, as I guessed from the clerk's statements, he had killed three strong men before me. I was to be the fourth. 1 went again to Bucklersbury, and sought in every house for something that might give me a clue. I loitered in the quiet City streets in the hope of finding my tormentor, and forcing him to give me back my bond. There was no clue, and I did not meet him. But I felt him. He began dinner, as nearly as I could feel, about seven o'clock ; he took his meal with deliberation, judging from the gradual nature of my sensations ; but he took an amazing

quantity, and by eight o'clock the weight uponme was so great that I could scarcely breathe. How I cursed my folly ! How I impotently writhed under the burden I had wantonly laid upon myself ! And then he began to drink. The fiend, the scoundrel ! I felt the fumes mount to my head ; there was no exhilaration,, no forgetfulness of misery ; none of the pleasant gradations of excitement, hope, arid, confidence, through which men are accustomed to pass before arriving at the final stage, the complete oblivion, of intoxication. I felt myself getting graduaUy but hopelessly drunk. I struggled against the feeling, but in vain ; the houses went round and round with me ; my speech, when I tried to speak, became thick ; the flags of the pavement flew up and struck me violently on the forehead, and I became unconscious of what happend afterwards. Paet 111. In the morning I found myself lying on a stone bench in a small white-washed room. My brows were throbbing and my throat was, parched, and in my brain was ringing, I do not know why, the infernal " Cluck-cluck !" of the negro with derisive iteration. I had not long to meditate ; the door opened, and a constable appeared. " Now then," he said roughly, "if you can stand upright by this time, come along." It was clear enough to me now what had happened : I was in custody, in a police-cell, and I was going before a magistrate. I dream of that ignominy still, though forty years have passed since I was placed in the dock and asked what I had to say for myself. " Drunk and disorderly." There was nothing to say. I gave a false name, paid my fine, and was allowed to go away. Then I went tomy lodgings, and tried to face the position. It was clear that the demon to -whom I had sold myself was incapable of the slightest consideration towards me. He would eat and drink as much as he felt disposed to do, careless of any consequences that might befall me. It was equally evident that he intended to make the most of his bargain, to eat enormously every day, and to drink himself drunk every night. And I. was powerless. Meantime it was becoming evident that the consequences to me would be as serious as if I were guilty of these excesses. One drop of comfort alone remained : my appetite would fail, and my tormentor would be punished where he would feel it most. I lay down and waited till luncheon time ; no sense of repletion came over me ; it was clear, therefore, that he wag already suffering a vicarious punishment, so to speak, for yesterday's debauch. In the afternoon I crept out, fearful at every step of meeting some one who had seen my shame in the morning, and took in my regular allowance of food—it was horrible to think that the night's excesses made no difference whatever in my capacity for food, which now remained at a steady quantity. In fact, I was a human engine, which at stated times required water and fuel. In the evening I returned early, in order to avoid a repetition of last night's disgrace, and locked myself in. At seven dinner began again ; at eight I was gorged and choking ; at nine I -was drunk. I thought the best course would be for me to hide myself away altogether. I took a little roadside cottage north of Islington, put in some furniture, and retired there to Hve entirely by myself. As for my meals, I bought them ready prepared. They consisted almost wholly of bread and cold mutton. You may judge of the absolutely tasteless condition to which I was reduced, when I write calmly and truthfully that cold Boiled mutton was as agreeable to me as any other form of food. I found, after repeated trials, that mutton forms the best; fuel—it is better than either beef or pork—it keeps the human engine at work for the longest time. So I had mutton. As I discovered also that bulk was necessary, and that only a certain amount of animal food was wanted, I used to have cold potatoes always ready. I stoked twice a day, at eleven in the morning and about five in the afternoon. Thus fortified, I got through the miserable hours as best I could, with the aid of books. Of course, half the enjoyment of books was gone with the loss of my other sense. - _ . I look back now on that period as one of unmitigated misery and despair. I was daily growing more bloated, fatter, and flabbier in the cheeks. My hands trembled in the morning. I seemed losing the power of connected thought. My very lips were thickening. I hope I can make it clear what was the effect of my bargain on myself—l mean without reference to the sufferings inflicted on me by my tyrant. People, however, never can know, unless they happen to be like myself, which is unlikely, how great a part eating and drinking take in the conduct of life. Between the rest of the world and me there was a great gulf fixed. They could enjoy, I could not ; they could celebrate every joyful event with something additional to eat ; they could make a little festival of every day ; they could give to happiness an outward and tangible form. Alas, not only was I debai-red from this, but I was cut off even from joy itself ; for, if you look at it steadily, you wiU find that most of human joy or suffering is connected with the senses. I had bartered away a good half of mine, and the rest seemed in mourning for the loss of their fellows. As for my pale and colorless life, it was as monotonous as the clock. If I neglected to stoke, the usual feebleness would follow. There was no gracious looking forward to a pleasant dinner ; no trembling anticipations in hope and fear of what might be preparing ; no cheerful contemplation of the joint while the carver sharpens his knife ; no discussions of flavor and richness; no modestly-hazarded conclusions as to more currants ; no rolling of the wine-glass in the fingers to the light and smacking of lips over the first sip—all these things were lost to me. Reader, if haply this memoir ever sees a posthumous light, think what would happen to thyself if eating and drinking, those perennial joys of humanity, which last from the infantile pap to the senile Bevalenta Arabica, were taken away.

All things tasted alike, as-I have said, and cold mutton formed my staple dish. As I could only distinguish between beer, wine, coffee, and tea by the look, I drank water. If I ventured, which was seldom, to take my dinner in a restaurant, I would choose my piece de resistance by the look, by some fancied grace in the shape, but not by taste or smell. The brown of roast beef might .attract me one day and repel me the next. I was pleased with the comeliness of a game-pie, or tickled by some inexplicable external charm of a beef-steak pudding. But three quarters of my life were gone, and with them all my happiness?. If you have no appetite for eating, you can enjoy -nothing in the whole world. That is an axiom. I could not taste, therefore my eye ceased to feel delight in pleasant sights, and any ear in pleasant sounds. It was not witn me as in the case of a blind man, that an abnormal development of some other sense ensued ; quite the contrary. In selling one, I seemed -to have sold them all. For, as I discovered, man is one and inseparable ; you cannot split him up ; and when my arch-deceiver bought my appetite, he bought me out and out. A wine-merchant might as well pretend to sell the bouquet of claret and preserve the body ; or a painter the color of his picture and preserve the drawing; or a sculptor the grace of his group and keep the marble. The thing was simple, and all was lost. This time lasted for about four months. On the first of each month I went to receive my p a y_the wages of sin—from the clerk, who surveyed me critically, but said nothing till the morning of the fourth month. Then, while he handed me my money, he whispered confidentially across the table : t "Look here, old fellow, you know; you re "oina- it, worse than poor Tom Kirby. Why don't you stop it ? What is the good of a feller's drinking himself to death? The old gentleman was here yesterday, asking me how you looked and if you continued steady. Pull up, old man, and knock it off." I took the money in my trembling hands and slunk away abashed. When I got home again, I am not ashamed to say that I cried ike a child. Delirium tremens ! That would begin soon, and then the end would not be far off. It was too awful. Think of my position. I was but four-and-twenty. Not only was I deprived of he pleasure—mind you a very real pleasure — of eating and drinking ; I was the most temperate man in the world, though that was no great credit to myself, considering ; and yet I bore in my face and my appearance, and felt in my very brain, all the marks and signs of confirmed drunkenness, and the hopelessness of it. That hardened old voluptuary, that demon of gluttony, that secret murderer, would have no pity. He must have felt by the falling-©ff of the splendid appetite which he was doing his utmost to ruin that things were getting worse, and he was resolved —I had suspected this for some time—to kill me off by drinking me to death. I believe I should have been dead in another week, but for a blessed respite, due, I afterwards discovered, to my demon being laid up with so violent a sore throat that he could not even swallow. What was my joy at being able to go to bed sober, to wake without a headache, to feel my bad symptoms slowly disappearing, to recover my nerves ! For a whole fortnight I was happy—so happy that I even believed the improvement would last and the old man was penitent. One day, after fourteen days of a veritable earthly paradise, I was walking along the Strand—for I was no longer afraid of venturing out—and met my old manager, Juliet's father. He greeted me with a warmth that was quite touching under all the circumstances. " My dear boy, I have been longing to know your whereabouts. Come and tell me all about it. Have you dined? Let us have some dinner together." _• I excused myself, and asked after Juliet. " Juliet is but so-so. Ah, do you know, Lucraft, sometimes I think that I did wrong to part you. And yet, you know, you had no money. Make some, my boy, and come back -to us." This was hearty. I forgot my troubles and my state of bondage and everything, except Jullet - „ -r -f «x U " I__l—l have money," I said. " I have come into a little money unexpectedly." " Have you ?" he replied, clasping me by the hand. " Then come down and see Juliet. Or —stay; no. The day after to-morrow is Juliet's ben. We are playing at Richmond. We have one of your own parts—you shall be Sir Harry Wildair. I will alter the bills. You are sure to come ?" " Sure to come," I said with animation. " Capital ! I know every line in the part. Tell Juliet that an old friend will act with her." We made a few new arrangements and parted. I bought a copy of the play at Lacy's, and stuilied the part over again. Next day I drove to Richmond, and found my Juliet in an impatience that went to my heart. She had grown thin and pale ; I, on the other hand, fat and red-faced, though a fortnight's respite had done wonders to restore me. " I don't think you are looking as well as you vised," said the dear girl. " Mr. Mould" 3Xr. Mould was the dresser—" says that you look as if you had been drinking." I laughed, but felt a little uneasy.

We rang up at seven. I be°an with all my former fire and vigor, because I was acting again with Juliet. The old life came back to me, I forgot my troubles; I was really happy, and I believe I acted well. At all events, the house applauded. Between the first and second act'a sudden terror seized me- I felt that the old man was eating again. That passed off, because he ate very little. But then he began to drink, and to drink fast. It was no use fighting against it. I believe the villain must have been drinking raw brandy, because I was drunk in five minutes. I staggered and reeled about on the stage, I laughed wildly and sang foolishly, and then I tumbled down in a heap and could not get up again. The last thing I remember is the angry roar of

poor old Kerrans, beside himself with passion, telling the carpenters to carry that drunken beast away and throw him into the road. J. heard afterwards that -they were obliged to drop the curtain, and that the eclat of poor Juliet's benefit was entirely spoiled. As for myself, the carpenters carried me out to the middle of Richmond-green, where they were o-oing to leave me, only one of them had compassfon, and wheeled me to his own house in a barrow. I was quite crushed by this blow. For the first time I felt tempted to commit suicide and end it all. To be sure I ought to have foreseen this, and all the other dreadful things. Directly my master, my owner, got able to swallow, though he could not eat, he could drink, and ordered the most fiery liquor he could procure, with a view to kill me off and begin with another victim. But Providence ruled otherwise.

One evening, a few days after my disgrace at the Richmond Theatre, I was sitting in my lonely cottage, expectant of the usual drunken bout, when I felt a curious agitation within me, an internal struggle, as if through all my veins a tempestuous wave was surging and rushing. I lay down. " This is some new devilry of the old man, I said to myself. "Let him do his worst ;at least I must try to bear it with resignation." I began to speculate on my inevitable and approaching end, and to wonder curiously what proportion of the sin of all this drunkenness would be laid to my charge. To my astonishment nothing more followed. The tumult of my system gradually subsided, and I fell asleep. In the morning I awoke late, and missed the usual headache. I had therefore, I was surprised to find, actually not been drunk the night before. I rose with my customary depression, and was astonished to discover that my nerves were steadier and spirits higher than I had known for a long time. I mechanically went to the cupboard and pulled out my cold mutton and potatoes. Who can picture my joy when I found that I could taste the meat again, and that it was nasty ? I hardly believed my senses; in fact, I had lost them for so long, that it was difficult to understand that they had come back to me. I tried the potatoes. Heavens, what a horrible thing to a well-regulated palate is a cold boiled potato-! At first, as I said, I could not believe that I had recovered my taste, but was actually hungry, I jumped and danced, and was beside myself with joy. Think of a convict suddenly released, and declared guiltless of the charges brought against him. Think of a prisoner on the very ladder of the gallows-tree, with the rope round his neck, reprieved and pardoned. Think of one doomed to death by his physician receiving the assurance that it was all a mistake, and that he woidd gather up long years of life as if in a sheaf. And think that such joy as these would feel I felt, and more ! I went to the nearest coffee-shop and ordered bacon, eggs, and tea, offering up a short grace with every plate as it came. And then, because I felt sure that my old tormentor must be dead, I repaired to my lawyers, and saw the clerk. " Ah," he said, " the poor old man's gone at last ! Went out like the snuff of a candle. His illness was only twenty-four hours. Well, he's gone to heaven if ever man did." " What did he die of—too much eating and drinking ?" "Mr. Lucraft," said the clerk severely, " this is not the tone for you to adopt towards that distinguished man, your benefactor. He died, sir—being a man of moral, temperate, and even abstemious life, though of full habit—of appoplexy." " O !" I said, careless what the clerk said, but glad to be quite sure that the diabolical old villain was really dead. I suppose there never was such joy over the repentance of any sinner as mine over the death of that murdering glutton, for whom no words of hatred were too strong. " I think you've got to see our senior partner," said the clerk. " Step this way." He led me to a room where I found a grave and elderly gentleman sitting at a table. " Mr. Lucraft ?" he said. " I was expecting you. I saw your late patron's negro this morning. He told me that you would call." I stared, but said nothing. " I have a communication to make to you, on the part of our departed friend Mr. Ebenezer Grumbelow. It is dated a few weeks since, and is to the effect that a sum of money which I hold was to be placed in your hands in case of his death. This, it appears, he anticipated for some reason or other." "Ebenezer Grumbelow." That was the name which had so long escaped my memory — " Ebenezer G-rumbelow."

I said nothing, but stared with all my eyes. "My poor friend," the lawyer went on, " .after remarking that unless you change your unfortunate habits you will come to no good, gave me this money himself—here is the cheque so that it will not appear in his last will and testament." I took it in silence.

" Well, sir"—he looked at me in some surprise—"have you no observation to make, or remark to offer, on this generosity ?" "None," I said. " I do not know," he continued —" I do not know —your signature here, if you please—what reason Mr. Grumbelow had in taking you up, or what claim you possessed upon his consideration ; but I think, sir, I do think that some expression—some sense of regret is due." I buttoned up the cheque in my pocket. "Mr. Grumbelow was a philanthropist, I believe, sir?" "He was. As a philanthropist, as a supporter of charities, as a public donor of great amounts, Mr. Grumbelow's name stands in the front. So much we all know." "A religious man too ?" " Surely, surely ; one of our most deeply religious men. A man who was not ashamed of his saintly profession." " Cluck-cluck !"

It was the familiar face of Boule-de-neige at the door.

"You know, I suppose," said the lawyer, "Mr. Grurobelow's body-servant, a truly Christian negro ?" "Was there," I asked, "any clause in Mr. Grumbelow's letter—any condition attached to this gift ?" " None whatever. It is a free gift. Stay, there is a postscript which I ought to have read to you. "Sou will perhaps understand it. In it Mr. Grumbelow says that as to the services rendered by him to you and by you to him, it will be best for your own sake to keep them secret." I bowed. " I may now tell you, Mr. Lucraft, without at all wishing to break any confidence that may have existed between you and the deceased, that a friend of Mr. Grumbelow's—no other, indeed, than the Rev. Jabez Jumbles, a name doubtless known to you—intends to write the biography of this distinguished and religious man, as an example to the young. Any help you can afford to so desirable an end will be gratefully received. Particularly, Mr. Lucraft, any communication on the subject of his continual help given to young men, who regularly disappointed him and died of drink." I bowed again and retired. Did any one ever hear of such a wicked old man? Outside the office I was joined by the negro. " What have you got to say to me, detestable wretch ?" I cried, shaking my fist at his withered old face. " Cluck-cluck ! Massa not angry with poor old Boule-de-neige. How young massa ? Young massa pretty well ? How de lubty abbadide of de young gegleman ? How him strong stumjack ? Cluck-cluck !" He kept at a safe distance from me. I think I should have killed him if I had ever clutched him by the throat. "Ole massa him always ask, "How dat younf debble ? Go and see, Boule-de-neige." I go to young massa's cottage daraway, and come back. "He berry dam bad, sar," t say; " he going to de debble bery fast, just like dem oders. De folk all say he drink too much for his berry fine constitution." Cluck-cluck ! Ole massa he only say ebery night, '* Bring de brandy, Boule-de-neige ; let's finish him." Cluck-cluck !" Here was a Christian negro for you ! " Tell me, what did your master die of ?" " Apple perplexity, massa." "Ah; what else? Come, Boule-de-neige. I know a good deal ; tell me more." "Massa's time up," he whispered, coming close to me. " Time quite up, and him berry much 'fraid. Massa Lucraft want servant ? Boule-de-neige berry good servant. Cook lubly dinner ; make massa rich, like Massa Grumbelow." "I'd rather hire the devil ?" I exclaimed. " Cluck-cluck-cluck !" grinned the creature; and really he looked at the moment as much like the devil as one could wish. " Cluck ! dat massa can do if massa like." I rushed away, too much excited by the recovery of my freedom to regard what he said. I was free. What next ? Mr. Kerrans next. I found him in that state of mind which becomes the heavy father outraged in his best and tenderest feelings, I had to give him a good deal of brandy-and-water ; but I succeeded at length in winning him to my way of thinking, and he gave me an interview with Juliet. The dear girl forgave me. * # * * * I have only to add that, a month after our union, I told my wife the whole story. She asked if I took her for a fool. Since then I have told it to a great many persons, not one of whom ever believed it, except one old lady perhaps ; a dear old lady in many respects, only she believes in Joanna Southcott as well as in my story, and mixes up the prophetess with my old murderer. And to the day of her death Juliet never allowed me the key of the spirit-case. There was no telling, she said, when a man might break out again. f Concluded. J