Do you know, Jasper, what happens to little boys that tell lies?
You do?
Something terrible, eh?
Soul's perdition, my boy; soul's ev-er-last-ing perdition.

There, come and show me the pig." What agonies of conscience it must have cost these two good souls thus to conspire together for benevolence, none ever knew.

Nor was it less pathetic that the fraud was so hollow and transparent.
I doubt not that the sin of it was washed out with self-reproving tears, and cannot think that they were shed in vain.
So the seasons passed, and we waited, till in the late summer of 1849 (my father having been away nineteen months) there came another letter to say that he was about to start for home.

He had found what he sought, so he said, but could not rightly understand its value, or, indeed, make head or tail of it by himself, and dared not ask strangers to help him.

Perhaps, however, when he came home, Jasper (who was such a scholar) would help him; and maybe the key would be some aid.