Deep under the weeds, in the neglected soil of his spirit, the good seed had been lying all this long time. Now it had burst, and was taking root, as though it had needed only the heat of his trouble. The face of the old recorder shone with kindness; and I, remembering my promise and the teaching of the old schoolmaster, was on my feet in a second.
“Your Honor,” I said, “I appear for the prisoner. There was a time long ago when he and I were boys together. In the battles of our youth I defended him, as I shall again. Since that far day I fear we have both erred and strayed from the paths we had hoped to follow, for I do not need to remind your Honor that life is full of things that trip and turn one from his course, or how easy it is for men to lose their reckoning. But we are going to do better; we are firmly resolved, and to-day we ask you to help us. I promise full reparation to any who have suffered loss, through his conduct, in the matter charged, and a bond in any reasonable amount for his good behavior.”
Then the tide turned for Ralph Buck-stone. It is enough for me to say that he faced about and became an able and successful author.
Yes, there are still Daniel Websters in America, many of them; there are Griggses and Griggsbys; but our Griggsby is a changed town. The seats of leisure are now occupied by the ladies. They have suffered from the angel theory, and it is their own fault. They look like birds of paradise. I should like to see them give up sweetmeats and idleness, jewels and ethereal raiment, and rejoin the human ranks, not as slaves, but as real women, with a work to do and with all the rights they may desire.
In a recent humorous account of the old Cadets of Temperance Ralph concluded with these words:
“My subsequent career is well known, but, alas, poor Havelock!”