golden age of hope had returned again to that unhappy family. But
one week my old acquaintance, getting earlier through with his
work, came home on the Friday instead of the Saturday, and there
was his wife to receive him reeling drunk. He 'took and gave her a
pair o' black eyes,' for which I pardon him, nailed up the cook-
shop door, gave up his situation, and resigned himself to a life of
poverty, with the workhouse at the end. As the children came to
their full age they fled the house, and established themselves in
other countries; some did well, some not so well; but the father
remained at home alone with his drunken wife, all his sound-hearted
pluck and varied accomplishments depressed and negatived.

Was she dead now? or, after all these years, had he broken the
chain, and run from home like a schoolboy? I could not discover
which; but here at least he was out on the adventure, and still one
of the bravest and most youthful men on board.

'Now, I suppose, I must put my old bones to work again,' said he;
'but I can do a turn yet.'

And the son to whom he was going, I asked, was he not able to
support him?

'Oh yes,' he replied. 'But I'm never happy without a job on hand.
And I'm stout; I can eat a'most anything. You see no craze about
me.'

This tale of a drunken wife was paralleled on board by another of a
drunken father. He was a capable man, with a good chance in life;
but he had drunk up two thriving businesses like a bottle of