98 ' ROBERT DAWSON.

and spirited horse grew restive under the unsteady
| guidance. ;
“ Give me the reins, Tom!” said I.
“No, my boy ;—but you will not have the reins— -
not you.”
Again another lurch of the sleigh. Our limbs if not
lives were at. stake. Seizing the reins with a strong
hand, I pushed Tom aside; and putting the horse’s
head in the direction we were to go, we went on ata
brisk rate. Curtis sank’down on the buffalo-skin, and
was soon insensible even to the repeated kicks given
by Tom, whenever he encroached upon his feet. My
companions were drunk! yes; absolutely drunk !
“Sabbath evening! Thank Heaven, my parents do
not know of this !” was almost the only definite thought
I had, apart from the care and sTRieey of getting safely
_ home.

Towards the middle of the evening, the lights of
home became visible, and how relieved was I to be-
hold them! The cold air and the long ride had

sobered Tom. He aroused Curtis, who, by the time