from the corners of his eyes. 'I think he prays rather more than is good
for his clients; mind I spell it with an 'a,' not with an 'e;' but hang
it, for an attorney, you know, and such a sharp chap, it does seem to me
rather a--a joke, eh?'

'He bears a good character among the townspeople, doesn't he? And I don't
see that it can do him any harm, remembering that he has a soul to be
saved.'

'Or the other thing, eh?' laughed Wylder. 'But I think he comes it a
little too strong--two sermons last Sunday, and a prayer-meeting at nine
o'clock?'

'Well, it won't do him any harm,' I repeated.

'Harm! O, let Jos. Larkin alone for that. It gets him all the religious
business of the county; and there are nice pickings among the charities,
and endowments, and purchases of building sites, and trust deeds; I dare
say it brings him in two or three hundred a year, eh?' And Wylder laughed
again. 'It has broken up his hard, proud heart,' he says; 'but it left
him a devilish hard head, I told him, and I think it sharpens his wits.'

'I rather think you'll find him a useful man; and to be so in his line of
business he must have his wits about him, I can tell you.'

'He amused me devilishly,' said Wylder, 'with a sort of exhortation he
treated me to; he's a delightfully impudent chap, and gave me to
understand I was a limb of the Devil, and he a saint. I told him I was
better than he, in my humble opinion, and so I am, by chalks. I know very
well I'm a miserable sinner, but there's mercy above, and I don't hide my