"But remember, my son, that text of Scripture which saith, 'Children obey your parents in all things.'"

"And let me add," cried Fred, "the following, from the same author, 'Fathers provoke not your children to anger lest they be discouraged.'"

"Ah, Fred! that sentence is not applicable to my case. As a duty of parental affection I only counsel you for your own good. Remember, my son, what Solomon says: 'A fool despiseth his father's instructions, but he who regardeth reproof is prudent. Correction is grievous to him who forsaketh the way, and he who hateth reproof _shall die_.'"

"I am no _fool_," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred, "I am of age. I shall, therefore, do as I please."

"Ah! Fred, Fred, I'm afraid your conduct will yet bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Perchance you may yet remember my words in a foreign land, without a kind friend to pity you in your distress.

Ah, Fred! I hope, however, that you will not play the prodigal. Let me, therefore, read you the 15th chapter of Luke."

Without replying Fred abruptly left the room before his father had time to bring forth the Bible.

"Well, well, but this is really annoying," said Fred to himself after he had gone to his room. "Do they think that I have no mind of my own; so that I am to be mechanically guided by theirs. They favor Clara, and disrespect me because I do not favor her also. They say she loves me; if she does, my absence will test it. However, I will not allow myself to be treated as a captive. I shall and must have liberty, or else I die. I shall leave London this very night. I shall leave without shedding a tear or bidding a friend good bye. They will perhaps learn to love me better when I am gone." So saying, he began to prepare. Having filled two large carpet bags with such articles as were most necessary he moved quietly out of the house and by a back stairway reached the street.

Having placed himself in a Hansom-cab stationed near by he was quickly conveyed to the station and in time for the night train to Liverpool.

On the following morning he embarked upon the Moravian, belonging to the Allan Line of Steamships, plying at that time of the season between Liverpool and Portland, in Maine, U.S.

The steam is up; anchors are weighed; and the vessel is soon riding out from the harbor towards mid-ocean. Although the air is cold, the deck is crowded with persons, among whom is Frederick Charlston, viewing the receding objects, and at length taking their farewell view of the dimly distant sh.o.r.es of their native land.

Day pa.s.sed,--and the shadows of the night came down. The vessel was dashing over the foaming billows. The winds were whistling dolefully amid the sails. A feeling of loneliness crept over the soul of poor Fred, and he retired to his hammock. Visions of the past and future floated across his mind, and under the poetic mantle of inspiration he gave vent to his feelings in the following verses:

Farewell to thee, England, the land of my birth, The dearest, the fairest of countries on earth, I love thee, yet leave thee, perhaps to deplore, Alas, it may be to behold thee no more.

If at home I've a friend, yet true friends are but few, In duty to friendship I breathe him adieu, But joy to this bosom no friends can restore.

I love them, yet leave them, I may see them no more.

Old London, farewell,--my birth-place and home, Far distant from thee I am destined to roam, On the home I once loved a fond wish too I'll pour, Tho' its household and hearth I may visit no more.

Sweet child of my love! Ah! the thought breaks my heart, To know that thy mother hath caused us to part, I love thee, yet leave thee, nor can she restore A joy to this soul that may see thee no more.

To the land of the stranger I go--yes--I go, In search of those blessings which it can bestow, Its forests, its lakes, I shall proudly explore, Far, far from that home I may visit no more.

Thus sang the young poet. But before morning had dawned upon the billows of the ocean all the poetic fancy that was flickering in his half-phrenzied brain was driven out by a serious attack of sea-sickness.

His emanations were then of a much grosser sort of material than the etherial-essence of poetic sentiment. During three long and wearied nights he continued in a most pitiable condition; his thoughts bewildered and fluctuating; at times, half regretting the course he had taken. The weather was tempestuous during the voyage; but, at length, in the afternoon of the twelfth day the vessel and all the pa.s.sengers were safely landed at Portland. That evening Fred went on board the train for Montreal, but did not reach his destination until late in the afternoon of the second day, the journey having been prolonged by a severe snow storm. The cold was very intense. It was then that the words of Charles Holstrom occurred to his mind about the Canadian mountains of snow and the cold at 150 degrees of temperature below zero. He, however, arrived safely at Montreal, yet, cold, hungry and exhausted, and immediately engaged lodgings at the _St. James' Hotel_, where after a warm and hearty meal he soon experienced a more comfortable state of feelings.

Night's shadows had settled down over the fair city. The great bell of the cathedral of Notre Dame was scattering its solemn tones over the dim air. The city-lamps were sending forth their mellow radiance. Throngs of pedestrians were moving to and fro. Sleigh after sleigh was hurrying along, filled with joyous souls, and drawn by sprightly steeds dancing as if it were to the sounds of the merry-tinkling sleigh-bells. Fred looked out upon the gay panorama of Canadian city life. It was a new and attractive sight to him, and he felt an itching desire to try the novel experiment of taking a sleigh ride; but his spirit recoiled within itself when the fact was brought forcibly to his mind that it was "_Christmas' Night_." He thought of the many happy Christmas evenings which he had enjoyed amid the society of his friends in the good old city of London. A thousand a.s.sociations flashed across his memory, filling his solitary mind with sadness and regrets. Around him everywhere he beheld gay crowds flickering with joyous excitement. More keenly than ever he then felt that he was only a stranger in a strange land, isolated from congenial society, and far removed from his friends and his once happy home. Conscience awakened his mind to the reality of his past folly, and his heart was wounded by its own stings. A heavy weight of sorrow pressed deeply upon his bosom. A deep sigh rolled out heavily upon his lips. Tears glistened in his eyes; and alas, poor Frederick Charlston again wished himself back to London.

CHAPTER VI.

The holidays having pa.s.sed, Fred sought out and found immediate employment in Montreal. The sad impressions that were engraven upon his mind at first began and continued gradually to wear off. New friendships were formed. Things became more and more familiar to him, and at length he experienced a much happier state of mind. At first he purposed writing immediately to his friends in London, but after a few postponements, resolved not to do so, as he considered it would show an effeminency on his part, and that a few month's silence would perhaps season their affection for him.

Two of his fellow-workmen, who belonged to a company of volunteers, persuaded Fred to join their ranks. He was tolerably well acquainted with military discipline, having practically served in a company during his residence at Tiverton; and he had also studied considerably the tactics of war, therefore he found no difficulty in getting himself initiated as a Canadian volunteer; but in so doing it ultimately proved to be another unfortunate step. The circle of his acquaintances was thus increased tenfold. Military glory unfolded its social charms. Friendly meetings with jovial comrades became more frequent. The foaming gla.s.s sparkled brightly with fascination. Temptation unmasked itself. Again and again his companions of the evenings had recourse to expedients to induce him to drink with them. He was willing to pa.s.s an evening and smoke a cigar, but sternly refused to even moisten his lips with the poisonous liquid, which showed a manly independence in principle, a dignity of honor; and it would have been well for him had he always continued as invincible.

"I say, Fred, you must have something to drink with us to-night," said Billa Haveril one evening as Fred and a few of his comrades were walking along Craig Street. "Here's the '_Royal Arms_,' come in, boys--come in Fred, and I'll introduce you to Mr. Stone, a jolly good old Englishman.

He knows how to warm up a fellow when the cold is 30 degrees below zero."

They entered, and became seated in a room adjoining the bar.

"Well, Fred, what's your choice," said Haveril.

"A gla.s.s of cold water," replied Fred.

"Horrible! horrible!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Haveril. "Are you really going to commit an arctic outrage upon your sensibilities? That will never do if you intend living in Canada."

"Perhaps he wants to convert himself into an ice-house," exclaimed Harry Jenkins.

"Gentlemen," said Fred, "I previously informed you that I belong to the Sons of Temperance; you will therefore confer a favor by not pressing your kindness further upon me."

"Take it as a medicine, then; a gla.s.s will neither awaken your conscience nor injure your stomach," said Haveril.

"Do as St. Paul advised Timothy to do--take a little for your stomach's sake and your often infirmities," said Nichol Henderson.

"Come, Fred, _one gla.s.s_ will never ruffle a feather in your conscience," said Ernest Stevens.

"Come, boys! tip up your b.u.mpers!" exclaimed Haveril, and then singing aloud, followed by the others in chorus,

"_For Fred's a jolly good fellow_," &c.

Frederick having declined was again pressed to drink, to which he replied--"I am willing to condescend to the wishes of the company in which I may be placed; but when principle is at stake I must necessarily decline sacrificing my honor to the demands of others, even those of my best friends, as I am a pledge-bound total abstainer."

"Pooh! pooh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jenkins, "that's enough of your sophisticated balderdash. Do you not know that a London pledge is not valid in Canada?"

"Why, what's the difference," exclaimed Fred, "the principle is the same throughout."

"Well, sir, the difference is just this," said Jenkins, "every country has its own laws, and every subject therein is commanded to obey them, and to do so only while he is a resident. The laws of the temperance cause are based upon the same principle."

"Philosophically speaking, you cannot a.s.similate them," replied Fred.

"Civil laws differ according to the government of a country, the characteristics of a people, their intellectual, moral and spiritual condition, etc. Whereas, the temperance cause, in its strictest sense, is everywhere identical, and its laws universal; the essence of which in the abstract is simply '_to abstain_' and '_to obey_.' But suppose, for the sake of argument, that you are right in your opinion, I ask then, is there sufficient reason in the act of having withdrawn myself from the country in which I took the pledge, to disannul my responsibility, when I have not withdrawn my name from the Society's list of membership. And again, I ask you, if I desire to remain a total abstainer, wherefore should I compel myself unnecessarily, in order to please others, to sacrifice my liberty to the 'king of evils,' even should I feel no longer bound to obey the laws of the Society."

"I say, Fred, for goodness' sake stop," exclaimed Sandie Johnstone, "or else you will sink us so deeply into the ruts of philosophy that our friends will never be able to discover us."

"Go on, Fred, go on, you're a brick," cried Haveril. "Give Jenkins another dig with your philosophical pick."

"Fair play," shouted Jenkins, "'tis my turn to bait the trap."

"Bait it with a bottle of brandy," cried Haveril, "and we'll see who'll bite at it first."

"If Jenkins wont, I'll bet you a dollar you will," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Johnstone.

"Yes, Haveril would bite at the very devil if his Satanical Majesty was filled to the teeth with brandy," exclaimed Jenkins, the others chorusing with a series of discordant laughs.

"Well, well, gentlemen," exclaimed Fred, "if you desire the continuance of my friendship, and if you wish to respect the dignity of morality and the English language, you must refrain from using such insinuating balderdash and bar-room-slang."

"You're right, Fred, stick to your subject and make them all your subjects," said Ernest Stevens.