“Oh, gentlemen!” What a quick gleam went over the face of Mrs. Slade.  “I thank you, from my heart, in the name of that unhappy one, for this act of true benevolence.  To you the sacrifice has been small, to her the benefit will be great indeed.  A new life will, I trust be commenced by her husband, and this timely aid will be something to rest upon, until he can get into better employment than he now has.  Oh, gentlemen! let me urge on you, one and all, to make common cause in favor of Joe Morgan.  His purposes are good now, he means to keep his promise to his dying child—­ means to reform his life.  Let good impulses that led to that act of relief further prompt you to watch over him and, if you see him about going astray, to lead him kindly back into the right path.  Never—­oh’ never encourage him to drink, but rather take the glass from his hand, if his own appetite lead him aside and by all the persuasive influence you possess, induce him to go out from the place of temptation.

“Pardon my boldness in saying so much” added Mrs. Slade, recollecting herself and coloring deeply as she did so “My feelings have led me away.”

And she took the money from the table where it had been placed, and retired toward the door

“You have spoken well madam” was answered “And we thank you for reminding us of our duty.”

“One word more—­and forgive the earnest heart from which it comes”—­said Mrs. Slade in a voice that trembled on the words she uttered “I cannot help speaking, gentlemen!  Think if some of you be not entering the road wherein Joe Morgan has so long been walking.  Save him in heaven’s name! but see that ye do not yourselves become castaways!”

As she said this she glided through the door and it closed after her.

“I don’t know what her husband would say to that,” was remarked after a few moments of surprised silence.

“I don’t care what he would say, but I’ll tell you what I will say” spoke out a man whom I had several times noticed as a rather a free tippler “The old lady has given us capital advice, and I mean to take it, for one.  I’m going to try to save Joe Morgan, and—­myself too.  I’ve already entered the road she referred to; but I’m going to turn back.  So good-night to you all; and if Simon Slade gets no more of my sixpences, he may thank his wife for it—­ God bless her!”

And the man drew his hat with a jerk over his forehead, and left immediately.

This seemed the signal for dispersion, and all retired—­not by way of the bar-room, but out into the hall, and through the door leading upon the porch that ran along in front of the house.  Soon after the bar was closed, and a dead silence reigned throughout the house.  I saw no more of Slade that night.  Early in the morning, I left Cedarville; the landlord looked very sober when he bade me good-bye through the stage-door, and wished me a pleasant journey.

NIGHT THE FIFTH.