Tasting, trying and judging of liquors, led to a loving, sipping and drinking of them.  We may hate temperance; but it is certain we cannot hate a good without loving a bad thing.  In offering for sale an article of food or beverage, the influence of our using it ourselves, or not using it, goes a great ways towards our disposing of it, or our not disposing of it.  James knew this, and acted accordingly.  He always had the best of liquors in his house, as it was often the case that, after selling a man a large amount, he invited him home to dine.  They, in turn, invited him out in the evening, and it was often a late hour when he returned.  At home the presence of his wife prevented him from indulging too freely; but away from home, and surrounded by gay companions, he went as full lengths as any.

Such indulgences could not continue long without showing their effects.  George saw these, and remonstrated with him; but Josephine could not or did not observe them.  If he did not arrive home at the customary hour, she ever had an excuse for his delay.

The arrival of another cargo of wines, etc., for Messrs. Laneville & Co., was duly acknowledged by another carousal in the cabins of the vessel, which ended in results far more destructive to the reputation of James, and to the happiness of himself and friends, than the former.

At a late hour Josephine sat waiting and watching, when the ring of the door-bell, the movement of the servant, the mingling of several suppressed voices, and the shuffle of footsteps on the entry-floor, aroused her from that listless inaction which fatigue had brought upon her.  She sprang to the door of her room, and, opening it, was about to descend, when her brother met her and requested her not to do so.

“Why?” she inquired.

He gave no definite answer to her inquiry, but requested her to retire for the night, saying that James would probably be home in the morning, bright and early as the dawn.

“And not before?” she inquired, in a tone of voice that startled her attentive brother.  Then, as a stray thought of the former ship’s party and its unfortunate results came into her mind, she exclaimed, “I must see him now!  Let me know the worst.  Nothing can keep me from him.  James, my James!” and, bursting from her brother’s embrace, she ran down stairs, and, notwithstanding the remonstrance of her friends, opened the door where half a dozen men and her husband had gathered.

James lay upon a sofa, nearly unconscious of what was transpiring around him.  Josephine caught the hand that hung loosely at his side, threw herself on the floor beside him, smoothed back his dishevelled hair, and kissed his flushed cheek.

“James, James!” exclaimed she.  He opened his eyes, gazed for a moment listlessly upon her, then closed them again.  “O, James! don’t you know me?  James! say,—­wake thee, dearest!”

She pressed his hand in her own, and, as the tears fell freely from her eyes, so unused to weep, she continued her calls upon him who lay insensate before her.  She whispered in his ear the breathings of her heart, or in louder tones gave vent to the grief that wounded it.