Benedict comprehended Jim’s lesson, and it made an impression upon him; but to break himself of his habit of thought and life was as difficult as the breaking of morbid habits always is.  He knew that he was a weak man, and saw that he had never fully developed that which was manliest within him.  He saw plainly, too, that his prayers would not develop it, and that nothing but a faithful, bold, manly use of his powers could accomplish the result.  He knew that he had a better brain, and a brain better furnished, than that of Robert Belcher, yet he had known to his sorrow, and well-nigh to his destruction, that Robert Belcher could wind him around his finger.  Prayer had never saved him from this, and nothing could save him but a development of his own manhood.  Was he too old for hope?  Could he break away from the delights of his weakness, and grow into something stronger and better?  Could he so change the attitude of his soul that it should cease to be exigent and receptive, and become a positive, self-poised, and active force?  He sighed when these questions came to him, but he felt that Jim had helped him in many practical ways, and could help him still further.

A stranger, looking upon the group, would have found it a curious and interesting study.  Mr. Balfour was a tall, lithe man, with not a redundant ounce of flesh on him.  He was as straight as an arrow, bore on his shoulders a fine head that gave evidence in its contour of equal benevolence and force, and was a practical, fearless, straightforward, true man.  He enjoyed humor, and though he had a happy way of evoking it from others, possessed or exhibited very little himself.  Jim was better than a theater to him.  He spent so much of his time in the conflicts of his profession, that in his vacations he simply opened heart and mind to entertainment.  A shrewd, frank, unsophisticated nature was a constant feast to him, and though he was a keen sportsman, the woods would have had few attractions without Jim.

Mr. Benedict regarded him with profound respect, as a man who possessed the precise qualities which had been denied to himself—­self-assertion, combativeness, strong will, and “push.”  Even through Benedict’s ample beard, a good reader of the human face would have detected the weak chin, while admiring the splendid brow, silken curls, and handsome eyes above it.  He was a thoroughly gentle man, and, curiously enough, attracted the interest of Mr. Balfour in consequence of his gentleness.  The instinct of defense and protection to everything weak and dependent was strong within the lawyer; and Benedict affected him like a woman.  It was easy for the two to become friends, and as Mr. Balfour grew familiar with the real excellences of his new acquaintance, with his intelligence in certain directions, and his wonderful mechanical ingenuity, he conceived just as high a degree of respect for him as he could entertain for one who was entirely unfurnished with those weapons with which the battles of life are fought.