“‘Why, do you think me so very great a sinner, sir?’

“’Not by acts, Eliza—­and what a soft name is Eliza—­soft as a pillow of down—­but by condition.  You are exalted now, upon pride—­not personal pride, but the pride of position.  You think you are incapable of error or infirmity, but you must be brought—­down to a sense of your own frailty, as it were, for it is upon a consciousness of that, that you must build.’

“’That is to say, I must commit sin first, in order to know the grace of repentance afterwards.’

“’You put it too strongly, Eliza; but here is the illustration:—­You know it is said ’there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just men.’  And I know many, Eliza, who go through a long course of virtuous iniquity, in order that their triumph in the end may be the greater.  I have myself practised it on a small way, and found it refreshing.  And now, Eliza, bring me another cup of brandy and water, even for my stomach’s sake; and, Eliza, my charming girl, put it to those sweet lips—­that it may catch the true fragrance—­Christian fragrance I wish I could say—­for they are fragrant lips—­and a sweet arm—­a full tapering arm you are gifted with.  Ah!  Eliza, if you could feel as I feel—­nay, it was the chair that was unsteady—­my my heart is dis—­dissolving, Eliza.  If you were only a little more frail, my sweet girl—­we could feel this a kind of religious exercise.  Oh! these precious little frailties—­these precious little frailties!’

“’Mr. M’Slime you will excuse me, but I think you have got enough, and a little too much liquor.  If you should be seen going home in an unsteady state your character would suffer.’

“’Another cup of refreshment, Eliza—­but I am not perfection—­no—­nor would I be perfection.  What would life be without these precious little frailties—­that make us what we are.’

“‘With all piety and undher------’

“‘Who is that,’ inquired the maid, evidently startled, if not affrighted by a strange voice.

“‘I join—­join you, brother M’Slime, for another cup of refreshment.’

“’Bob Spaight—­brother Bob—­I am glad you are here; Eliza, my darling—­my dove—­another cup for Bob, and after that we shall aid each other home—­will render one another Christian and mutual assistance.’

“‘Yes,’ replied Bob, clearing his voice:—­

(Both voices simultaneously:)

     Bob—­’King James he pitched his tents between

     Solomon—­’There’s naught but care on every hand,

     Bob—­’The lines for to retire,

     Solomon—­’In every hour that passes, O

     Bob—­’But King William threw his bomb balls in,

     Solomon—­’What signifies the life o’ man,

     Bob—­’And set them all on fire.’

     Solomon—­’An’ ‘twerna for the lasses, O!’

“Many thanks, sweet Eliza—­oh! that I could say my frail Eliza; but I shall be able to say so yet, I trust; I shall be able to say so.’