Had it been the veriest crripple or outcast so circumstanced, it would have altered nothing of Philip's intention; yet I will not say but his feet moved the faster up the steps when he looked at the face of the subject of the dilemma.

He was a sun-burnt haggard man, who had seen good service: his dark hair was grizzled, his face worn and careful, his tall form slightly bowed-the more for the last few hours, maybe, that had added the final straw to the burden. But the publican saw nought of all this. Three shillings was owing to him, and in default of the hard cash, he claimed security. Honest man, who can blame him?

His hand was extended for the case, when Philip laid his upon the arm of the soldier.

"Don't give him that," he said, and he put some silver into the hand of the other, as he stood in silent wonder at the interruption. "Pay him, and don't let

him have that."

"God bless you, boy! whoever you are," cried the soldier in amazement; "but I can't take your money, I don't even know your face."

"I know you don't, but you'll take the money and pay him-take it, quick, don't give him that!"

All astonishment, the soldier paid the no less wondering publican, to whom Philip had not even turned his eyes. To him they were all of the one type the smooth-spoken, white-vested Crichton, as he thrust his pale mother from the door that night, as over that mother's grave the boy defied him five years ago.

"God bless you, and thank you, my lad, again, who. ever you are," said the man warmly, taking the boy's

hand as he followed him to the door.

send the money ?"

"Where will I

"You can't send it, I don't want it; I am going away," said Philip, hurriedly.

66

Well, but don't run off; see here, there's a trifle left, you'll have something this chilly night."

"God forbid!" said young Steyne, so fervently that all near him looked up, and the landlord retreated a pace within his bar, as one who scents hydrophobia.

"Aye, but you've done me the best turn ever was done me by mortal man, and I can't let you go so, and never, maybe, see you again. Stay; here, my lad, listen! I did say I'd never tell it, but you've done me a good turn, and I've nothing else.'

He drew him aside and discoursed for some moments in a whisper.

"It's a sure thing, I know, but I'm off to India. You're young and daring, it'll be a good thing to you one of these days."

Philip laughed. "Thank you," said he; "but you'll serve me more, I expect, if you'll tell me my way to the market-place."

"Ah, that I will," said the soldier; and he walked with Philip to where his road lay straight before him, again thanked him, and shook him by the hand, bidding him not forget. "It'll make your fortune

one of these days," said he.

Philip shook his head, and went upon his solitary way. He was thinking of the gin-shop, the alley, the fair young castaways, and of another, whom some day-some day, he was suree-he should find, and had soon forgotten even the cause of the soldier's friendly whisper.

CHAPTER TWENTIETH.

THE FOUNDRY-TIDINGS.

"Pile high the fire-let the furnace glows,
While the red molten torrent runs below."

'Alas! my task is o'er-gone, gone for ever!'"

THE BROTHERS. (MS. Play.)

"No use, my lad, as far as that party's concerned― been left here these six months and more.

There's

a good many would be glad to know where; but I don't expect he's to be found any where just handy; it's not likely, I think."

Such was the answer returned to Philip's enquiries, when he presented himself one evening, tired out and travel-worn, at the destination of Crump's recommendatory letter.

It was a foundry, situate in one of the close back streets of the dense manufacturing town, where, by a rambling circuit, with many a halt, and many delays, young Steyne had arrived. His small stock of money was nearly spent, for in the course of his ill-directed, uncertain enquiries, not a few had been the advantages taken of his inexperience and evident anxiety, by those who, while they led him on by delusive hopes made them a source of gain.

Cast down by repeated failures, yet no way turned

from his resolve, Philip entered the town where he had determined to prosecute his search with somewhat more method than heretofore, and at the same time to procure some employment, to recruit his scanty funds, ere he started for his final destination, London.

He had counted much on his friend's good word to put him on a firm footing with his relative, and here was a sore disappointment. The head of the establishment had quietly taken his departure some months since, under circumstances which rendered it unadvisable to leave any clue to his destination.

It was a stirring scene, the high open building with the glowing fires, the huge blowers, the ponderous machinery, the clang, the din and roar. The swarthy giants moving to and fro from out the dusky shadows athwart the gleam of the furnace, like unearthly assistants at some demon rites, their brawny arms swinging to and fro the masses of metal, and the heavy castings, with a disregard to size or weight, that seemed to set at nought all ordinary human capabilities.

It was such a novel sight to Philip, he stood for some minutes absolved in the contemplation of the fiery labour.

There was an attraction for him in the might, and strength, the reality of the work; and when the mouth of a furnace opened, and down came the red hot torrent, and flowed, liquid fire, into the receptacle beneath, the boy's heart leaped at the sight of the 'power that could sway the fierce lurid mass, the very emblem of durability and resistance, moved to pliancy by men's ingenuity and will.

"Lend a hand here! will you, my lad ?" shouted a man at a truck which had just lumbered into the yard heavily laden.

Philip sprang up, right willingly, and lent material assistance in quickly unpacking the load.

"Eh! but you're a strong chap, you are," said the man, as young Steyne shouldered a casting he would have put aside for four hands.

"You'll never do it," said the head man, who stood by. "Dashed if he hasn't though! well, upon my word, I haven't seen better than that; he looks but slight too. You'll have a drink of something though, after that, my man."

"No." Philip wanted nothing of the kind, only if he might be allowed just to stop and see them finish that casting." Stop and welcome.'

"Was it work you was wanting in that letter ?” asked the foreman, coming up to where Philip stood, after some time had passed.

"I do want work," was the reply. "I can't say what's in the letter, but it was his uncle wrote it, to speak for me, I suppose."

"Ah! I see-you've been used to this ?"

"No." Philip was bound to confess he was but an admiring ignoramus.

"Eh, eh, but I might have guessed as much, by your seeming so taken with it,-but it's a pity too. Now, see that man there feeding the furnace; do you fancy you could make any hand of that ?"

Philip modestly gave assurance of his belief that at least he could "try."

"Well, so you can do that," said the good-natured foreman, slapping his thigh; " and you shall too. We