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—it is the weakness of a man;—and he who feels it not, must be either above humanity—or below it.—I steer the middle course.

Go then! I know thee no longer for Moor! Have you forgot how many thousand times, with the glass in your hand, you scoff'd at the old hunks?—"Let him scrape and hoard as he will—I'll drink the more for it." Have you forgot that, Moor?—That was spoke like a man—like a gentleman—but now——

Curse on you for that remembrance! May I be curs'd for ever having uttered it!—'Twas the speech of intoxication—my heart abhorr'd what my tongue expressed.

(Shaking his head.) No, no—that's impossible—impossible, brother.—Confess that it is necessity that makes thee talk thus.—Come man, never fear! let things be ever so bad.—The more peril the more courage, the more they crush us, the higher we'll rise.—If the fates throw bars in our way, 'tis to make heroes of us.—Come along!