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Updated: May 21, 2025
"It's of no use your dancing attendance on me any longer, Bones," said Aspel one day, as the former appeared at the door of the ornithological shop. "I have all the will to help you, but I have not the power. My friends have failed me, and I can do no more than keep my own soul in my body. You must look to some one else with more influence than I possess."
If Aspel had not been previously addicted to careless living, such a man as Bones never could have had the smallest chance of influencing him. But Bones did not care to reason deeply. He knew that he had desired and plotted the youth's downfall, and that downfall had been accomplished.
Aspel was at his bedside, and the detective easily recognised him as the youth of whom he had been so long in search. I sent my letter by the detective to Mrs Bones, who gave it to Aspel. His reply came, of course, through the ordinary channel the post." "And what do you now propose doing?" asked Mr Blurt.
Still, Bones had made up his mind to try. With this end in view he proposed a walk in the street, the night being fine. Aspel sullenly consented. The better to talk the matter over, Bones proposed to retire to a quiet though not savoury nook by the river-side. Aspel objected, and proposed a public-house instead, as being more cheerful.
George and his father amused themselves with it to such an extent that they became bankrupt about the time of the father's death, and thus the son was left with the world before him and nothing whatever in his pocket except a tobacco-pipe and a corkscrew. One day Phil met George Aspel taking a ramble and joined him. These two lived near to each other.
It never occurred to George Aspel that the true way to get out of his troubles was to commit his way to his Maker; to accept the position assigned him; to do the work of a faithful servant therein; to get connected with good society through the medium of churches and young men's Christian associations, and to spend a few years in establishing a character for trustworthiness, capacity, vigour, and intelligence, which would secure his advancement in life.
"Yes, I did," answered the child, with a nod of decision. "You're telling the truth?" "Yes; as sure as death." Poor Tottie had made her strongest asseveration, but it did not convey to Aspel nearly so much assurance as did the earnest gaze of her bright and truthful eyes. "You put it in the pillar?" he continued. "Yes." "At the end of the street?"
His visage was terribly disfigured by the effects of drink, besides being partly concealed by his matted hair. "What a wretched spectacle!" exclaimed the young man, touching the heap with his foot as he turned away in disgust. Just then a woman with a black eye entered the room with a black bottle in her hand. She was the woman who had refused the beer from Aspel.
He's coming here to-night." "Who, Sir James Clubley?" "No," returned the boy, laughing, "George Aspel. He went with Mr Blurt to a hotel to see after a bed, and promised to come here to tea. I asked him, knowing that you'd be glad to receive any intimate friend of mine. Won't you, Coz?"
That lady, however, damped his rising hopes by saying that she did not know where George Aspel was to be found, and that he had suddenly disappeared to her intense regret from the bird-warehouse in which he had held a situation. It belonged to the brothers Blurt, whose address she gave to her visitor.
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