“Quite. But I’ve a better Friend as never leaves me nor forsakes me—the Lord Jesus Christ. I hope, my lad, you know summat about him.”
“Yes; thank the Lord, I do,” replied Jacob. “I learned to love him when I was far away in Australia.”
“In Australia!” cried the old man. “Deborah’ll be glad to hear what you have to say about Australia, for she’s a brother there. And how long have you been come back from yon foreign land?”
“Not so very long; but I almost wish as I’d never been.”
“And why not?”
“’Cos I shouldn’t have knowed one as has caused me heavy sorrow.”
Poor Jacob hid his face in his hands, and, spite of himself; the tears would ooze out and trickle through his fingers.
“Come, my lad,” said his new friend, compassionately; “you mustn’t fret so. You say you love the Lord; well, he will not leave you comfortless.”
“It’s the drink, the cursed drink, as done it,” said the other, half to himself.
“Well, my lad; and if you have been led astray, and are gradely sorry for it, there’s room in the Lord’s heart for you still.”