"Caleb," continued my friend, in the same tone, "you have lived with me
many months. Mine is a life of privacy and retirement compared with that
of other men. I strive to be useful to my fellow-creatures, and am happy
if I succeed. If any one may claim immunity from slander and reproach,
it is I, who have avoided diligently all appearance of offence. Yet I
have not succeeded. You are about to mix again with men. You have joined
the church, and you will not fail to hear me spoken of harshly and
injuriously."

"Impossible!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, it would seem so, and it would _be_, if justice in this world
accompanied men's acts. I tell you," continued Mr Clayton, flushing as
he raised his voice, "there are men living now whom I have raised from
beggary and want--men, indebted to me for the air they breathe, who
calumniate and defame me through the world, and who will not cease to do
so till I or they are sleeping in the dust. They owed me every thing,
like you--their gratitude was unbounded, even as yours. What assurance
have I that you will not deal as hardly by your friend as they have
done, and still do?"

"Mr Clayton," I answered, eagerly, "I would lay down my life to serve
you."

"I believe you to be frank and honest, Caleb. I should believe it; for I
am about to pledge a heavy sum upon your integrity--and, indeed, I can
but ill spare it. You ask me how I would have you show your thankfulness
for what I have accomplished for you. I answer, by giving me your
_friendship_. It is a holy word, and comprehends more than is supposed.
A friend believes not ill that is spoken of him to whom he is united by