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THE STRAND MAGAZINE.

of depression, are wont to say that life is not worth living—that we shall be well out of it, and the rest; yet, when it seemed really slipping from my grasp, I had clung to it with a tenacity which surprised myself. And now, with the future once more before me, in which so much seemed possible, I was filled with gratitude to God and to my unknown friend, by whose means I had been saved. There was a short silence; then I asked, rather doubtfully, if there were not some way in which I could prove my gratitude.


"A strong hand seized me."

"You speak as if you were sincere," my strange companion said, in his gruff, downright way; "so I will tell you frankly that you can do me a good turn if you have a mind to. mind to. I don't want your money, understand; but I want you to do me a favour."

"What is it?" I asked, eagerly; "believe me, if it is in my power it shall be done!"

"I would rather you passed your word before I explain more," he said coolly. "Say my request shall be granted. I take it you are not a man to break your promise."

Here was a predicament! Asked to pledge

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