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a week, which Tim's employer was to deduct when he paid him his wages.
" I won't stop the money from thee, friend,” said Mr. Drabstone, “ I'm glad to be able to assist a fellow-creature, in gaining an honest livelihood ; and it seems thy friend can make sugar-sticks, for this looks very good.”
Mr. Drabstone was a cautious man; he never allowed his benevolence to get the better of his judgment, and he had tasted the peppermint-stick before he promised to lend the money. “ Here is a sovereign," and Tim received the coin gratefully from his master's hand; “ thou canst tell me how she gets on from time to time,” and with the sovereign in his pocket, an abundant capital wherewith to start the new trade, the worthy coalheaver went home that night a happy man.
AFTER Eddy and Mary Graham had gone from their brother's room, things there went from worse to worse. There were times when he felt lonely, and sorry for his conduct; but he was too proud to acknowledge his faults, and he worked himself up into believing that he had been badly treated by his brother and sister, and still worse by the coalheaver. Had it not been for this selfdeceit, together with the influence of drink, the unhappy young man might perhaps have been arrested in his evil course. As it was, however, he drank more and more, and went deeper and deeper into sin. So far was the old woman, his landlady, from discouraging him, that she often fetched him in liquor when he had evidently already taken far too much. The crafty woman had her own ends in view, and she thought herself most likely to succeed by humouring the unhappy young man as much as he pleased. .
Not very long after Mary Graham had left, there came a young woman to live with John Graham's landlady, and apparently to help her in her trade. This girl's name was
Cramp, and she was anything but an orderly, well-conducted character; her very appearance was greatly against her; it is true she was young, but that was all that could be said in her favour; her face was unnaturally red; she wore long gold earrings, and several rings on her fingers ; her dress also was ornamented here and there with some lace, which was both torn and dirty. This girl's character was very bad, but she was a relation of John Graham's landlady, and she was determined to make him marry her if she could. Had Graham been in his senses he could never have thought of such a thing; but drink leaves a man an easy prey to every designer, and he soon fell into the old woman's trap. At first she used to have him to supper with her when he came home from his work, and as plenty of drink was provided, he was very glad to accept her invitations; then she talked a great deal to him of how much better off he would be if he had a wife, and finally she talked him over to marry this wretched girl. They were married; but, like all drunkards' marriages, theirs was a most unhappy one. There were now two to drink away the daily earnings, and in consequence John Graham became even poorer than he had been before. This would in itself have been bad enough, but far worse was yet to come. John Graham soon found out that his wife did not care much for him; she paid no attention whatever to his room, and as to doing a hand's turn at home, she said it was his business to keep her and she should do no such thing. Thus things went on for some time, and at last, from words, John Graham and his wife came to blows. One evening when they were both drunk they quarrelled, and young Graham threw a jug at his wife; the jug cut her severely on the side of the head, and the blood flowed so copiously that he became alarmed. Not knowing well what to do, he wrapped an old towel round her head and ran down to summon the old woman, who hobbled up as fast as she could. Every step she took she lavished abuse on her lodger, and only stopped when she reached the garret room, and saw John Graham's wife lying senseless upon the floor. At first she thought that the unhappy young woman was dead, but on putting her hand to her wrist she felt a feeble pulse. "I tell you what it is,” said she to John Graham, “I'll have nothing to do with this 'ere business ; this young woman will die, you had better call a doctor as fast as you can.” Young Graham was now seriously alarmed, and darted out of the house as fast as he could to summon a neighbouring chemist; and as soon as ever he had gone his landlady also went out and called in the policeman. “I'll have none of this 'ere business laid on my shoulders,” said the wretched old creature, “if I call in the police, I'ın safe;" and if she herself were safe what did she care as to what became of John Graham, or his wife, or any one else? She never thought of her having been the one to incite her lodger in his drunken course, and to bring about this wretched match, which was now turning out so deplorably.
The chemist arrived in a very few moments, and pronounced the case a very dangerous one; the young woman might recover, or she might die; she had lost a large quantity of blood, and he could not tell how the affair was likely to turn out. What was to be done was now the question: the chemist could not stay; she was in too dangerous a state to be trusted to her husband's charge, besides which he was the one that had as- · saulted her; as to the old woman, she wouldn't have anything to say to the matter; they were her lodgers, that was all she knew about them, and the sooner they turned out the better. . “ I'm really quite puzzled," said the chemist, “I dare not leave the young woman alone :'' but here he was interrupted by the entrance of a policeman, who soon settled what was to be done. He had not been able to come the moment the old woman had called