abstain from his offensive communications, and an endeavor to enlist
Duncan into his wishes.

One evening they were telling each other stories in No. 7. Bull's turn
came, and in his story the vile element again appeared. For a while Eric
said nothing, but as the strain grew worse, he made a faint
remonstrance.

"Shut up there, Williams," said Attlay, "and don't spoil the story."

"Very well. It's your own fault, and I shall shut my ears."

He did for a time, but a general laugh awoke him. He pretended to be
asleep, but he listened. Iniquity of this kind was utterly new to him;
his curiosity was awakened; he no longer feigned indifference, and the
poison flowed deep into his veins. Before that evening was over, Eric
Williams was "a god, knowing good from evil."

O young boys, if your eyes ever read these pages, pause and beware. The
knowledge of evil is ruin, and the continuance in it hell. That little
matter--that beginning of evil,--it will be like the snowflake detached
by the breath of air from the mountain-top, which, as it rushes down,
gains size, and strength, and impetus, till it has swollen to the mighty
and irresistible avalanche that overwhelms garden, and field, and
village, in a chaos of undistinguishable death.

Kibroth-Hattaavah! Many and many a young Englishman has perished there!
Many and many a happy English boy, the jewel of his mother's
heart,--brave, and beautiful, and strong,--lies buried there. Very pale
their shadows rise before us--the shadows of our young brothers who have