70 J. COLE.

know what’s being thought of him, and I’ve
come here ashamed to see you, thinkin’ you
believed as the rest do, that Joe robbed you
after all your goodness to him. Why, lady,
I tell you, rather than I’d believe that of my
little lad, as I thrashed till my heart almost
broke to hear him sob, for the only lie as he
ever told in all his life; if I could believe it,
I'd take father’s old gun and end my life, for
I'd be a beast, not fit to live any longer. And
I thought you doubted him too; but now I
hear you say you're his friend, and believes in
him, and don’t think he robbed you, I know
now there’s good folks in the world, and
there’s mercy and justice, and it ain’t all
wrong, as I’d come a’most to think as it was,
when I first know’d about this ’ere.”

“Sit down, Dick,’ I said, “and recover
yourself, and let us see what can be done. I
will tell you all that has happened, and then
perhaps you can throw some light on Joe’s
conduct — you who know him so well.”

Dick sat down, and shading his eyes with
his hand that his tears might not betray his
weakness any more, he listened quietly while