for ail accountant to look after his father's
papers, and see if matters were really desperate

The accountant was not long at work, and
told Alfred the accounts were perfectly clear,
and kept in the most admirable order. "The
cash balance is 60,000l.," said he: "and many
of the rents are due. It is an agent you want,
not an accountant."

"What are you talking about? a balance of
60,000l.?"  Alfred was stupified.

The accountant, however, soon convinced him
by the figures it was so.

Alfred went with the good news to his father.

His father went into a passion. "That is one
side of the account, ye fool," said he; " think
of the rates, the taxes, the outgoings. You
want to go from your bargain, and turn me on
the world; but I have got you in black and
white, tight, tight."

Then Alfred saw the truth, and wondered at
his past obtuseness.

His father was a monomaniac.

He consulted Sampson, and Sampson told him
to increase the old man's comforts on the sly,
and pay him his guinea a week. "It's all you
can do for him."

Then Alfred employed an agent, and received
a large income from his father's land and houses,
and another from his consols. The old gentleman
had purchased westward of Hyde Park-square,
and had bought with excellent judgment
till his mind gave way. But Alfred never spent a
farthing of it on himself: all he took was for his
father's creditors. "All justice is good," said
he, "even wild justice." Some of these
unhappy creditors he found in the workhouse; the
Misses Lunley that survived, were there, alas!
He paid them their four thousand pounds, and
restored them to society. The name of Hardie
began to rise again from the dust.

Now, while Richard Hardie sat brooding and
miserable, expecting utter ruin, and only brightening
up on guinea day, Julia had a protégé with
equally false views, but more cheerful ones. It
was an old man with a silver beard, and a
machine with which he stamped leather into
round pieces of silver, in his opinion. Nothing
could have shaken that notion out of his mind.
Julia confirmed it. She let it be known that she
would always cash five pieces of round leather
from Mr. Matthew's mint per day, and ten on
Friday, when working men are poorest.

She contrived this with diabolical, no, angelical
cunning, to save the old man from ridicule, and
to do his soul much good. All souls were dear
to her. What was the consequence? He went
about with his mint, and relieved poor people,
and gratified his mania at the same time. His
face began to beam with benevolence, and
innocent self-satisfaction. On Richard Hardie's all
was cordage: and deep gloom sat on his
ever-knitted brow.

Of these two men which was the rich man;
he who had nothing, yet thought he possessed
enough for himself and his neighbours: or he
who rolled in wealth, and writhed under imaginary
poverty?

One reflection more. Do not look to see
Providence dash the cup of prosperity from every
dishonest hand; or you will often be
disappointed: yet this, if you look closer, you shall
often see; such a man holds the glittering cup
tight, and nectar to the brim; but into that cup
a shadowy hand squeezes some subtle ingredient,
which turns that nectar to wormwood.

Richard Hardie died, his end being hastened
by fear of poverty coming, like an armed man,
and his guinea a week going. Matthews met
with an accident, and being impervious to pain,
but subject to death, was laid beside his poor
mistress in St. Anne's churchyard. Julia buried
him, and had a headstone put to his grave; and,
when this was done, she took her husband to
see it. On that stone was fresh carved the true
name of the deceased, James Maxley.

"I have done what you told me," said Julia
solemnly.

"I know it," said Alfred softly. "I saw
who your Matthews was; but I could not
speak of him, even to you. You have done
right, my good Christian wife. I wish I was like
you. My poor little Jenny!"

Richard Hardie's papers were all in order;
and among them an old will leaving 14,000l. to
Edward Dodd.

On this being announced to Edward, he
remarked that it was a fraud. Alfred had been
at him for a long time with offers of money, and
failing these had lost his temper and forged a
will, in his, Edward's, favour.

This scandalous defence broke down. The
document was indisputable, and the magic sum
was forced down Master Edward's throat, nilly
willy. Thus rose the Hard Cash once more from
the grave.

All this enabled the tenacious Alfred to carry
out a deeply-cherished design. Hardie's late
bank had been made into a shop; but it
belonged to Mrs. Dodd; he bought it of her,
and set up the bank again, with Edward as
managing partner. This just suited Edward,
who sadly wanted employment. Hardie and Co.
rose again, and soon wiped out the late disgraceful
episode, and hooked on to the past centuries of
honour and good credit. No creditor of Richard
Hardie was left unpaid. Alfred went in for
politics; stood for Barkington, was defeated by
seventeen: took it as a matter of course; told
his friends he had never succeeded in anything
at first; nor been beaten in the end; stood again,
and became M.P. for Barkington, whence to
dislodge him I pity any one who tries.

For a long time Mrs. Dodd was nervous, and
used to wake with a start at night, and put out
her hand to make sure David was not lost again:
but this wore off.

For years the anniversary of that fatal day,
when he was brought home on the stretcher,
came back to them all as a day of gloom: but
that wore off.