"Don't shout till you're out of the wood," replied Kelly. "He has his wits about him yet." "Oh he's safe enough; we shall have the pleasure of escorting him to his lodgings. It's capital to get him carried home once before he leaves college, is'nt it ?" What Harry said was too true. Poor Frank's judgment had deserted the helm, and left him at the mercy of every breeze of flattery or invitation. "I know you could sing that Farewell' brilliantly, Hamer, if you would but take one glass of this prime whiskey-real mountain dew." 66 Why Harry-my boy, you know, I never do drink -spirits and I'm too-sleepy,-sing any more." Ah Mary, could you but see Frank now! "Come old fellow, don't be squeamish, I'm sure this will brighten you up finely." And Harry handed Frank a glass more than half whisky, and saw him swallow it all without compunction. But it did not "brighten him up;" it completed the stupefaction that was creeping over him, and very soon he was added to the number that lay stretched on sofas, chairs, and carpet in a state of helpless intoxication. Truth to tell Harry Mills and Frederick Kelly were very nearly all of the party that were in a condition to help others home. They had both exercised unwonted self-denial in order that they might effect and enjoy poor Frank's disgrace. Not that they deemed it a disgrace. It was to them but a frolic of which no youth ought to be ashamed, and little did they imagine the remorse and anguish that would fill their victim's mind when consciousness returned, unaccompanied by the self-respect on which Frank so much prided himself. A council was called by the loud ringing of the bell, and it was agreed by the landlord, the boots, and the chambermaid, that it would be best to leave the prostrated guests where they lay till morning, with the exception of Frank, whom Kelly and Harry undertook to convey to his lodgings, fearing his greater anger if he found himself in so unusual, and to him, so degrading a position, as that of an involuntary night's guest in a city tavern. It was past two o'clock on that December morning when they left the house. No conveyance was readily to be had, and Frank was with difficulty lifted and dragged by his worthy friends through the streets of the city. It was but a short distance to Frank's lodgings, but they were heartily tired of their task before they reached the door, at which they knocked and rang furiously, anxious to be relieved of their burden. も CHAPTER VII. WILLIAM LISTER'S NEW ACQUAINTANCES. Accomplishments were native to her mind MUST now beg my reader to go back two years William Lister was returning home from his place of business late one evening, when he was arrested by the voice of a man, who, in a broad Yorkshire accent, called upon all pedestrians on his side of the pavement to "get out o't 'gate," in other words, to clear the way for his progress. The familiar dialect of his own county touched the Theart of William, and though he was certain from the tones of the voice, and the vociferations of its owner, that the man was intoxicated, he could not but stop to observe him for a moment by the light of the lamp under which he was passing. He was a rough-looking specimen of humanity attired in the working clothes of a mechanic, with a gleam of broad good humour in his bloated face, which even drink could not obscure. G But it was only for a moment that William regarded him, for, by the drunkard's side, with her hand upon his arm, was a female figure that at once rivetted his attention. It was that of a young woman-lady, William would instinctively have styled her-of perhaps eighteen or nineteen years. She was rather slight in person though somewhat above the medium height, and neatly dressed in apparel better than was generally worn by working people. Her face as the light strongly glared upon it for an instant, was turned appealingly to the noisy individual by whom she was accompanied, and it was with a mixture of pain and admiration that William looked upon it. The first feeling of which he was conscious while gazing on that face, was a strong impression that he had seen it before-that its beautiful outline was one with which he was acquainted. The large brown eyes too, as they were turned up to her companion's face,-were they not strangely familiar in their expression? But now she spoke; and the gentle tones so piteous, and so sweetly contrasting with the rough accents of the drunkard, impelled William to turn and follow the pair. "Father, do let us make haste home! It's very late, and I'm so frightened!" As she spoke her hold was tightened on the man's arm, with an effort to quicken his pace. "Niver thee be flayed o' nobody joy, I'll tak care o' thee, chus what," replied the man, at the same time staggering from side to side of the pavement in proof of his ability to protect her. "Oh father! you'll have the watchman after you again. What shall I do, what shall I do!" said the poor girl, looking round in terror as she heard some men approaching in the distance. William felt constrained to offer his aid, for the unhappy man was in truth scarcely able to keep his feet, and the distress of the poor girl appeared very great. "Will you allow to me to help you home with your father? I see you have an unmanageable task." The young woman started, and seemed for a moment to regard with suspicion the stranger who had thus accosted her. But whether the gentlemanly bearing of William, as he was indistinctly visible by the street lights, or the kind tones of his voice re-assured her, she at length uttered a grateful "thank you, sir," and soon found the benefit of his aid as he supported the reeling man on one side, while she continued her hold of the other. This was no uncommon adventure with William Lister so far as the poor drunkard was concerned. This man was not the first by many that he had escorted home in a state of intoxication. In truth, had any one, ignorant of his motives, observed him on such occasions as the present, it might have been concluded that he |