Blair Collection > Rhys Lewis, minister of Bethel

RHYS LEWIS. 329
TOUr mother to catch me, she ■W'as so guzzact in things of that
sort, you know. Well, I won't keep you, since Abel's out of
sorts. Eemember us both to him. Good night ! Stay !
here you are, as long's you're determined to go to college,
take a piece of this flitch of bacon and welcome. We shall
hare quite enough left. Well, well ; it's your own fault if
Tou don't. You know you're a hundred times welcome. Good
night."
I was glad to get away, to enjoy a roar, as Will Bryan used
to say. If Will had been there, I thought, what a splendid
account he would have given of my chat with the "old
thoroughbred Thomas Bartley," as he called him ! A hundred
reminiscences came to mind, as I hurried along homewards, of
the way in which Bob was able to smooth, the wrinkles in
mother's serious, care-worn face, after a visit paid to Thomas
Bartley's house to " draw him out." Bob could mimic the old
shoemaker to the life ; and I knew him making mother angry
with herself, because she had been compelled to laugh in her
own despite. It may bo that there are moments in the life of
every man when he seems demortcd. Had I been photograph-
ed that night, swiftly striding past the Hall Park, my face
would have presented a strange look, as I laughed and cried,
alternately. Thinking the matter over, now, I am surprised
to find that Thomas Bartley had so muck to do with the princi-
pal events of my life. But little did I imagine at the moment
01 my return from the Tump I should ever have to recall that
night save as a means of amusement for my companions.
I had left the Corner Shop barely an hour and a half, and
was within a few yards of it on my return, when I met Jones,
who had been searching for me, everywhere save at the Tump.
He told me Abel was dreadfully ill. What else he may have
said I never knew, for the next minute I was in my dear old
master's room. I shall never forgive myself for leaving him
that night. I found him reclining on the sofa whore I had left
him when I went out. Sitting on a chair by his side was
Doctor Bennett, or, as we called him, the works' doctor, behind
whom, at the head of the sofa, was Miss Hughes making des-
perate efforts to hide her heart-beats. The scene is vividly