“I do not care to say much to you about being kind and obliging to all whom you may meet with during your travels, nor about the dangers to which you will be exposed by being thrown into the company of wild and reckless, perhaps very wicked, men. There is but _one_ incentive to every good, and _one_ safeguard against all evil, my boy, and that is the love of God. You may perhaps forget much that I have said to you; but remember this, Charley, if you would be happy in this world, and have a good hope for the next, centre your heart’s affection on our blessed Lord Jesus Christ; for believe me, boy, _His_ heart’s affection is centred upon you.”
As Mr. Addison spoke, a loud hello from Mr. Kennedy apprised them that their time was exhausted, and that the boats were ready to start. Charley sprang towards Kate, locked her in a long, passionate embrace, and then, forgetting Mr. Addison altogether in his haste, ran out of the wood, and hastened towards the scene of departure.
“Good-bye, Charley!” cried Harry Somerville, running up to his friend and giving him a warm grasp of the hand. “Don’t forget me, Charley. I wish I were going with you, with all my heart; but I’m an unlucky dog. Good-bye.” The senior clerk and Peter Mactavish had also a kindly word and a cheerful farewell for him as he hurried past.
“Good-bye, Charley, my lad!” said old Mr. Kennedy, in an _excessively_ loud voice, as if by such means he intended to crush back some unusual but very powerful feelings that had a peculiar influence on a certain lump in his throat. “Good-bye, my lad; don’t forget to write to your old—Hang it!” said the old man, brushing his coat-sleeve somewhat violently across his eyes, and turning abruptly round as Charley left him and sprang into the boat—“I say, Grant, I—I—What are you staring at, eh?” The latter part of his speech was addressed, in an angry tone, to an innocent voyageur, who happened accidentally to confront him at the moment.
“Come along, Kennedy,” said Mr. Grant, interposing, and grasping his excited friend by the arm—“come with me.”
“Ah, to be sure!—yes,” said he, looking over his shoulder and waving a last adieu to Charley, “Good-bye, God bless you, my dear boy!—I say, Grant, come along; quick, man, and let’s have a pipe—yes, let’s have a pipe.” Mr. Kennedy, essaying once more to crush back his rebellious feelings, strode rapidly up the bank, and entering the house, sought to overwhelm his sorrow in smoke: in which attempt he failed.