Much as we would like to follow other friends we cannot yet leave Phillip Lawson. He is now in great trouble having met with a loss that is great.

"I might have known that it was too much good fortune for me," cried the young man in sad and pathetic voice. "Fool that I was to carry it about when I was so lucky for once in my life."

Phillip Lawson was the picture of despondency. A heavy cloud had settled down just as all had promised fair and now all was darkness and gloom, not a ray of hope pierced the grim portals which had closed so suddenly upon him.

He thought of the Tuscan poet and wondered if it were possible that his bitter experience had called forth that direful inscription—

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

"Ah, my life is Hades! I look for none other!" cried Phillip, his mind now in an unsettled state and ready almost to doubt truth and revelation.

"I have tried hard to lead a good moral life, to live according to the teachings of the Golden Rule and to live with God's help in accordance with the teachings of His holy doctrine, and why is it that I am thus hardly dealt with?"

We cannot blame our young friend if he be somewhat rebellious. His faith is sorely tried and he is at first found wanting; but unlike many others who have gone down under the weight of the angry billows, stems the torrent and with his eye straight for the beacon light reaches the haven in safety.

"I believe that some good may yet spring from it. Hubert Tracy will not have the power to injure my reputation. He may succeed for a time, but there is a Nemesis cruel as death."

Phillip repeated these words as if he were the avenging Deity himself and the hoarseness of his voice made them sound doubly prophetic.

"If they could only have passed into Mr. Verne's hands instead of mine it would have been better for all parties; but what's the use of talking."

Phillip looked sad and careworn, aye, ten years older than on the previous night, and had Mrs. Montgomery looked in upon him then she would surely have been more perplexed than ever.

"It will never do for me to be hunting around the doors at 'Sunnybank.' For the life of me I cannot see how such a thing could have happened."

For the sake of explanation we must admit that our legal friend had a failing which often turned out disastrously for himself and at times for others—he was simply speaking—absent-minded, but bear in mind it was only outside of business matters. As a clear thinker Mr. Lawson had no superior, he was equal to any question, running over with brilliant repartee and thoughtful speech.

It was only when the office door was closed and business suspended that he was guilty of this weakness, and as it on this occasion, caused him to suffer much from the consequence we hope to prove that he had overcome it. The fact was the paper had slipped between the folds of his handkerchief when he had taken it to brush off some dust that persistently adhered to his coat sleeve. There was another view of the matter from a more jubliant source, Mr. Moses Spriggins.

The latter toiled away in the ten acre lot at Mill Crossing in the happy thought of some day being "as big a gun as the rest of 'em," and with the kindness received from Mr. Verne the happy climax was almost reached.

"Would'nt it be great," mused Moses as he followed the plough in the field above referred to, "if when Melindy and myself go to town that we would put up at them 'ere Verneses. Golly it would make the Wiggleses eyes stick out furder than ever. They're a jealous lot at the best o' times, and its sich a silly idear for Melindy to be a-naggin' at me for goin' there when I never go nearer than the rickety old gate."

Mr. Spriggins was evidently taking on a few airs for he seemed quite exasperated and ready to battle against such aspersions. Instantly his face became radiant as the noonday sun, and he burst forth in rapturous strains—

"What a man I would be and what sights I would see
If I had but ten thousand a year,"

until the hills and dales in the vicinity of Mill Crossing caught up the refrain and all nature seemed to rejoice.

"What's the use of wishin'? it won't bring the ten thousand any more than I could turn that old millstream yonder tother way. But what's the odds so long as yer happy?" and once more there floated on the breeze—

"If I had but one thousand a year."

"Yes sir, I'd be content," exclaimed Mr. Spriggins, as he finished the last stanza and took a vigorous pull at his pipe as means of reconciliation with his present circumstances.

"And, by-the-bye, I must go up to Ned Joneses to-night and talk him into that business. It aint any sense for Ned and me to be a keepin' up spite 'cause the old folks want ter. No sir, not this child, anyhow."

Between eulogizing and soliloquizing Moses' morning wore into evening and having hitched up the old mare he set off for the post office—a spot doubly endeared to him since Melindy Jane Thrasher went to service, since which time there regularly arrived every Monday evening a suspicious letter addressed:—

MR. MOSES SPRIGGINS,
Mill Crossin',
Kings County, N. B. In haste.

Imagine the surprise of our friend on being presented with three whole letters—nothing more, nothing less—and one was addressed "Moses Spriggins, Esq."

"I wouldn't take that as a joke, nohow, Mose," said a lugubrious looking individual, whose face looked as if it had been playing "I spy" with a tallow candle and got the worst of the battle.

"Bet your life on it it's no joke; you're jest right Zeb, it's real down airnest; the fellow that rit that ain't one of your jokin' consarns."

Mr. Spriggins glanced over Melindy's letter to see if she was in good "speerits," and being more than satisfied, broke open the seal of the second one, which was from Mr. Verne.

It was written in a large and legible hand, and was couched in the most simple language, and ended with a request that the finding of the paper should be kept secret until such time as he (Mr. Verne) should see fit to acknowledge it. "I do not doubt you, Mr. Spriggins, only you might carelessly let it be made known among your friends."

When Moses read these lines he was more than delighted. They expressed such confidence in him that he felt so proud, to quote his own expression, "that he wouldn't claim relationship with the Attorney Gin'ral."

The third letter which drew our friend's attention, was a notice from the Dominion Safety Fund Company, which almost gave as much pleasure as the other, for in it lay, as Moses expressed it, "a big bonanzer one of these days."

But Moses was not destined to live many days in a perpetual ray of sunshine.

Mrs. Spriggins was a motherly and kind woman, careful, industrious and economical, but she had one bad habit—that of scolding.

"Mother could no more live without scoldin' than dad could live without his tobaccer," was Moses' frequent comment when beyond the old lady's hearing.

The happy first-born was dear to Mrs. Spriggins as "the apple of her eye," but he always came in for a decent share of the scolding.

"Now, what that critter is a galavantin' to town and gettin' so many letters is mor'n I can tell. Seems to me he must be neglectin' sumthin', for I tell ye things won't git along without puttin' your shoulder to the wheel." (Mrs. Spriggins had evidently heard of the fable of Sisyphus, and gave it an original translation.)

"That's all right Jerushy, but I don't think there is any danger of our Moses. He's as stiddy as a rock."

"Don't let him hear you say so, Simon, for its the worst thing in the world to be a-praisin' your own children, and a-tellin' them they're so smart, and good lookin', it makes them so ever-lastin' conseity."

Mr. Spriggins, Sr., was going to remark that there was no danger of her children getting spoilt, but he knew what was best for himself, and kept a quiet tongue in his head.

The next evening after Moses had been to the post office, he became aware of the startling fact that his mother had been peeking into his trousers pocket while she rearranged his neat little room, and made it look more spicy by the addition of a set of snow-white curtains.

"'Pears to me Moses you have a lot of business agoin' on. Hope you ain't writin' to any girls but Melindy. You know anything I despise is a young man a-flirtin' with every girl he sees, and besides its not what any honest man would do. It's well enough for them 'ere city chaps that thinks no more of their word than eating their supper, to be runnin' arter every piece of calicer they see, but I tell you none of the Spriggins is agoin' to do it."

Mrs. Spriggins evidently meant what she said if one could judge from her vehemence, her snapping eyes and sharp tongue.

"Don't be skeered of me a flirtin' mother, I'll stick to Melindy while there's a button to my coat," said Moses trying hard to look very dignified.

"Well, what is all of 'em letters about?"

"What letters mother?" queried Moses, with the evident delight of extorting a confession.

"Why as I was a-hangin' up your Sunday trousers some of 'em fell out and I couldn't help a-lookin' at the writin' on the back.

"From as fine a gentleman as ever walked the streets of St. John," cried Moses quite emphatically.

"What's comin' next! You, Moses Spriggins of Mill Crossin', a ritin' letters to a gentleman. Let's hear all about it.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you jest now mother, I'm sorry to say, but it's all right."

"Am I in my sober senses or am I in a nightmare? (No, there's Mose as nateral as life.)" Then pointing her finger at the supposed culprit Mrs. Spriggins exclaimed: "I tell you what it is Moses Spriggins it's nothin' very good that you're ahidin' from your own mother. Got into them lawyer's clutches at last? Ye used ter say ye liked law and if I'm as good a prophet as I think I ort to be you'll get enough of it. Like as not the farm and the stock and all the utensils will go afore long. Oh dear me!"

Mrs. Spriggins now stopped for want of breath and fawning herself violently with the bottom of her blue gingham apron made a second onslaught.

"I tell ye what it is Mose there is no good comin' of this 'ere gallivantin' to town every t'other day, anyhow."

"Mother, if you would only have patience a few minits I might make some explanation, but you seem to want to have it your own way," said Moses, who had now determined to venture a word or two in his defence.

"Be keerful, Moses, how you speak to your own mother. It's time I had everything my own way, when other folks can't manage their own affairs," said Mrs. Spriggins, with an angry toss of her head.

"Now jest listen a minit, mother, and if I'm wrong I'll give in," said Moses, trying to effect a compromise.

"Well, let's hear what you have to say for yourself; but remember, you must not palaver it up to suit yourself, or I'll soon find out—sure as my name is Jerushy Ann Spriggins."

Moses had, to a certain extent, allayed Mrs. Spriggins' fears, and brought matters to a satisfactory close, when a load knock at the front door caused the latter to utter a startling exclamation, and then run to the glass to see if her hair was parted straight.

"Gracious goodness, mother, if there ain't the greatest crowd you
ever saw. There's Mister and Missus Squires and Deacon Rider, and
Missus Rider and little Joe Rider, and there's Huldey Ameliar
Dickson and Marthy Ann, and a hull lot more."

"Moses Spriggins, are you a-takin' leave of your senses to be a-standin' gapin' with your mouth open instead of runnin' to the door and a-showin' 'em into the best room, and I'm not fit to be seen. It's allus the way. If I had all my fixin's on there'd not be a soul to come, but let one sit in their old rags, and the hull country side will pop in."

Moses had not heard the last part of the speech, for in less than a minute he was at the front door, doing the honors with all the grace imaginable.

"Nell has gone to the store, but mother will be here in a few minutes, so make yourselves to hum," cried the genial host, showing the female guests the way into the spare room "to take off their bunits."

When Mrs. Spriggins appeared not a trace of the recent encounter was visible.

"Wal, Mrs. Spriggins, yer growin' younger lookin' every day," said the good old deacon as he glanced at the hostess in her best gown and black lace cap, not forgetting to admire the coquettish white linen stomacher that completed the costume.

"Deacon Rider, I'm afraid you are guilty of sayin' little fibs as well as the rest of the folks. What do you think, Mr. Squires?"

Mrs. Spriggins' appeal placed the minister in a trying position, and his better half came boldly to the rescue. "I tell you what it is, Mrs. Spriggins, I'm not going to allow you to get all the compliments. Just think of it, Deacon Rider drove all the way over, and never paid one of us a compliment."

"Well, well, if here ain't all the folks," exclaimed good natured Simon Spriggins, bursting into the best room with several straws clinging to his trousers—a practical illustration of attraction of adhesion.

"Missus Squires, I do declare! Why, it does one's eyes good to see you. And Missus Rider, too—I haven't seen her for an age. Why it makes me feel young agin to see one of my old beaux around. Eh, Jerushy."

"A pretty thing you, to be a-talkin' of beaux. Better go and get off your old clothes first, for you'd scare the crows."

Mrs. Spriggins then became deeply interested in the affairs of her visitors and began bustling about at a great rate, and making hosts of excuses for things "not a-lookin' as nice as they had orter, for Nell had been a-spinnin,' and they had extry work besides."

"Come, come, mother, you needn't be a-puttin' on airs now, for the folks won't believe you, nohow."

At this sally from Moses Spriggins the younger visitors set up a laugh, and the older ones smiled and said "Moses is full of fun." And after a few such preliminaries the party were ensconced in the best room, enjoying the unbounded hospitality proverbial to the Sprigginses, while Moses went up to his room to have another spell at the important letter, and as he read over for the seventh time the neatly rounded sentences, he felt that he could well afford to bear reproof for the sake of having the good will of such a man.