THE VETERANS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14250, 22 December 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE VETERANS.

: A® T the sound or approaching ? footsteps on the roadway ir front of his cottage the old Qplgg man lowered the telescopc vthrough which he was wont to inspect j|, B vessels passing up and down the firth. "Another fine* day, remarked the voting doctor, halting under the wall. The old man, standing on the artificially raised ground of his small garden on the other side, nodded. ««|t is that, sir. Was ye comin' to see ma-' « "Well, I thought I might drop in for a minute. How's the arm?" • " Come in, sir, an' welcome," return•jd James Forgan, late of the Royal Navy. •■Ye can see the arm for yerself." ! , He met the doctor at the gate, and they went up to the cottage together. The cottage contained two rooms : the kitchen, which * was used only for cooking, and the parlour, which was fitted with a ship's bunk and furnished as far as possible in nautical style. The walls were hung with souvenirs of far countries. A ship's tabid was overhung by a ship's lamp; a ship's stove stood on the hearth ; and above the bunk was a porthole through which one could spy down channel as far as Ailsa Craig. The original window of the apartment looked up channel to Greenock and Dumbarton. S> "Step in, sir," said Forgan, pushing ; the parlour door open. " The doctor sat down by the window, and the old man, having taken off his j jacket, bared his right arm for inspecI tion. A great arm it was, and much tattooed; the owner smiled at the sight of it The doctor examined it carefully, pressing it here and there. \ Hurting you he asked once or twice. "No, sir," Forgan replied, chuckling. "' After a pause the doctor said quietly : "Did you get many fish last night, J James J" . ,The old man's face fell. " Who told ye?" he cried. "Your arm tells me," replied the young man, and he pressed his thumb a little below the hollow of the elbow. i»' Forgan winced, and looked ashamed of himself. "It's true sir," he said like a boy confessing a fault. " I was out at thefishin' last night. No luck," he added involuntarily. * "What about the night before?" the doctor asked. "'Twna the same, sir." " Now, James," said the young man sternly, "you're surely old enough to know better. You're over 80, aren't you?" . "Eighty-two last birthday, sir." "Well, you can't do all the things at ! 82 that you did at, say, 62. Allow me, please," he continued, holding up his hand to check the other's speech. " I've warned you already, and I warn you again that this arm of yours won't stand the strain of rowing. You may find it capable for a little, but if you happen to get caught in a bit of a breeze, you'll find it will suddenly fail you, and once it does that it will be of very little use to you. Now, will you promise me to give up rowing, James , • "An what am I to do on fine nights?" Forgan demanded, as if the doctor were lomehow to blame. " Get someone to row your boat, if you must go out after the saithe. But I advise you to stay ashore." . "Yeye rpeak as if I was breakin' !" snapped the old man. "Nonsense, James But it is your 4uty to take care of yourself. You did your duty by your country— James smiled proudly, and drew him' ielf up. . .''And now," went on the doctor, "you've got to do your duty by yourself. Besides, you won't miss the fishing in the evenings bo much when you have a neighbour." "A neighbour, sir'?" "Ob, don't you know that the adjoining cottage is let at last. The factor *as telling me yesterday. It has been taken by some lord—l can't remember to# name—for an old soldier, who—" "'A sojer!" cried Forgan in anything but a pleased voice. "An old soldier, James. From what I heard I expect he will be about your age. So you and he ought to have good times', together. If ho has a tenth part of jour yarns, and can tell them half as well as you, you should find him capital company. Now, doesn't that bit of Wws make up for my severe remarks about your rowing?" ■For half a minute the old man was Went. Then he said slowly, "The other wie was fine empty, an' it suited mo first-class to ha' my nearest neighbour a ®ile away." «*'. Nonsense, James! You're as fond rt a crack as anybody, and you've always ken glad to see the Fairport people along 'we, just as they have been glad to come tod hear your yarns. You needn't begin to pretend that you're anything in the *»y of a hermit. I've only been in Kinwhan for five years, but I know you've e n entertaining the people of both villages with your yarns for twenty years. Jo pretty sure you'll give your new neighlour a warm welcome, James." • Apparently James did not hear the doctor.- "The Admiral," he said, turning to the framed photograph that hung wove the manttlpiece, " the Admiral Sever thought much o' sojers; an' neither «id James Forgan." The doctor, who had heard countless Wecdotes of the Admiral from the old •"'or, smiled out at the window, before te plying gravely : Your Admiral naturally preferred sea®*o| and perhaps ho was a little prejudiced-" Sir!" shouted Forgan. Well, I'm suro ho admired all brave J"'", soldiers or sailors," said the doctor lamely. Humph muttered the old man sulkily. Weren't you the oldest man in the fc'vice when you retired, James?" the Wan inquired. He had heard the i omen t rom Forgan 50 times. '"organ's lined face grew cheerful •gain. -< "That I was, sir," he said briskfe; An' 'tis written on the back o' §J| there photograph in the Admiral's U hand— bless him, an' blast all |3 8 a word against him !" Here lie ®«mbered an anecdote, and when it J*, .concluded the doctor rose to take Ifc departure. f'«v . Now, mind he said, "no more I Win g, James! And a warm welcome .the old soldier when he comes." I—l m a brother killed in South Africa." fcl m sorry, sir," said James with , pie simplicity. But under his breath L "I want my boat, an' I don't 00 next-door neighbours*

3Y J. B. BELU COPYRIGHT,

; Thomas Bruce stood at his cottage t door in tho April sunshine and snuffed I the morning air with intense satisfac- , tion, , "'Tis good!" he murmured. " 'Tis , fine an' good." He had taken up his new quarters the night before and had found everything within the cottage very much to his liking. During all the years that had passed since his discharge from the army and during his service in the Corps of Commissionaires he had hoped to end his days away from the city. But when his freedom from work had come, his sister, his only relative, with whom ho lived, refused to leave the town, and he had j stayed with her, with all willingness, I until she died. Then, thanks to ail old commanding officer, the cottage at Fairport had become his, rent free, for the remainder of his life. iU Hi i S -,i deeply sunken eyes roved over the hills and water, peered at the distant ships, watered in the strong-light; and once more he murmured, " 'Tis fine an' good !" .Th ~, an was tall, extremely thin and very old His face, long and somewhat melancholy, shaven save the upper lip, was tanned indeed, but the colour was sallow rather than brown. His shoulders stooped; but row and then, as if a thought had stride him, he drew himself stiffly erect. lis fine an' good !" he repeated, as the. morning steamer for Fairport passed close shore, her red funnel glowing, her saloon windows and silvered cowls glittering in the sunshine. His eyes fell on the patch of neglected ground in front of him, and he promised himself a bit of gardening. His sister had kept window-boxes, "and ho knew something about two or three common flowers. He began to wonder when his neighbour would appear. He had caught only a glimpse of him in the dusk the previous night, but tho man wh<? had brought his belongings from tho pier had been obligingly talkative. Thomas Bruce was no lover of solitude, and his cup of satisfaction had brimmed when he heard that his nextdoor neighbour was an old man like himself and a seaman who had served his country. He had no doubt that a warm friendship would bo formed, as a matter of course. Still, he felt a little shy, and decided to let his neighbour sneak the first word. F The desire for a pipo came upon him, and he entered the cottage. When ho returned with pipe and pouch he saw. that his neighbour had come forth in his absence, being now occupied with his telescope at the wall skirting the road. Five minutes passed and the old soldier became impatient, Sucking his pipe as though for inspiration he went slowly to the fence which divided the two greens. He wondered what he should say to begin with, and tried to remember the nautical salutations he had heard on troopships. "Ahoy, mate!" seemed correct enough, bub rather familiar, and he hesitated to call out jocularly " Captain !" or " Skipper !" Eventually he fell back on the weather, and the courtesy title commonest among landsmen. He removed his pipe and shouted : " Fine mornin", Mister Forgan !" The squat figure in stained navy blue slowly turned, and the weather-bitten hands lowered the telescope. There was no smile on the bronzed, white-bearded countenance. "'Tisn't as fine as yesterday." The observation was slow in coming. "Isn't it?" returned Bruce, wondering if a finer morning than tho • present were terrestrially possible. " But I wasn't here yesterday, Mister Forgan." " I knows that. "Twill bo a wuss mornin' to-morrow," said Forgan, turning away. Then he remembered his half-promise to the doctor, and with an effort he shut up the glass and came towards the fence, halting a couple of yards from it. " I hope ye like yer quarters, Mister Thomas Bruce," ho said, solemnly. "Thank ye. They're splendid," the soldier replied, adding pleasantly, " Thomas is good enough for me." Forgan did not seem to catch the friendly hint.

" S'poso ye've seen ser ~»?" he remarked, toying with his t«!escope. " Some,' returned Bruce, modestly. "But I haven't seen the world like you have." "Anything big? Been in any war?" "Crimea —an' so on." Forgan looked tip with a fleeting expression of interest, and, perhaps, respect. "Have a fill," said the old soldier, proffering his pouch. The old sailor froze, again. "Thank ye; but 'tisn't my sort," he said coldly. " Do anything at the fishin'?" lie inquired, as if ho had been told to do so. " Fishin' ? Out there?" Bruce shook his head. " I'm r.ot fond 0 'the water," ho said smiling sadly. " Sick-?" " Av. I'm too old anyway." "What's yer age?" "Eighty-three last birthday." "Mornin'!" said Forgan shortly, and walked straight into his cottage. " What light had this stranger to be a year older, and yet not'feeble and worn out Ail unreasoning jealousy possessed the

sailor, who had complacently submitted during the past ten years to being exhibited and congratulated its a unique example of vigorous old age. Thomas Bruce was disappointed, but sought to console himself with ho reflection that " some folks took a hit of knowin'." He spent the forenoon in arranging the interior of his new home to suit himself, and afterwards walked into the village, where the natives received him in friendly enough fashion. They soon discovered that the old soldier had seen a deal of the world, and that he had a stock of stories which promised to equal, if not to surpass, those of his neighbour. There was a difference, however, between the two story-tellers which the villagers' did not realise just then. The difference win not merely that which might naturally be expected to oxist between men of callings so far apart: it lay in the fact that, whereas the sailor's yarns were always about himself and sometimes about his beloved Admiral, the soldier's tales were simply those of a looker-on. nr. On an evening towards the end of May James Forgan, smoking sullenly, lounged

in the doorway of his cottage, listening to the conversation taking place in his neighbour's garden. Thomas Bruce was doing most of the talking, pacing to and fro on the grass plot anil taking an occasional pull at his pipe. On the wall, their backs to tho road, their countenances exhibiting keen interest, sat four of the villagers Joseph lied hoi tho painter, Peter Banks, the fish merchant, and the postman and piermastcr. As ho watched and listened, the old seaman's soul was filled with bitterness— more, perhaps, against the listeners than against the 'speaker, though he would never have admitted that possibility even to himself. It was Thomas Bruce he hated, he told himself; Thomas Bruce, the interloper, the teller of tales which were probably lies, and which, at best, were only fit for the children who gathered in the adjoining garden on their way home from school. "Blasted foolishness!" muttered Forgan, as the soldier concluded a tale, and

tho men on tho wall begged for another. He turned and went into the parlour, where ho sat staring at tho portrait of the Admiral till tho light failed. For three weeks 110 ono had come to spend an hour with the old sailort The folk wero as friendly as ever, and ready to chat for five minutes from the roadway, but they had given up the habit of dropping into his garden and sitting 011 the wall, ami listening to tho yarns which he had spun with confidence and to applause for 20 years. Fairport's little public, as is the world's great public, was fickle at heart, and only required something new to render it unfaithful to the old. It was also ungenerous at heart, in that it suddenly discovered and declared that old Forgan had been repeating the same yarns for years and that it was sick of the Admiral and all connected with him. Further, it formed the. opinion, quite abruptly, that an ex-soldier of 83 who had been wounded over and over again was a far greater marvel than an exsailor of 82 who, in spite of numerous exciting experiences, Had never actually been in action.

But Thomas Bruce promptly _ squashed any insinuations of comparison between his neighbour and himself. "In my time," ho would mildly-say, " I've bashed a sailor, an' likewise nave been bashed by a sailor. 'TV mostly drink as started the fights. _ There's more jealousy in drink than in love, I tell ye, an' I used to think I hated sailors. Now, hem' old —an' wiser, I hopesl says a good sailor-man is as good as a good soldier. An' the only difference I can see betwixt them is, that the soldier has sometimes great risks whereas the sailor has always some risk. D'ye sec, lads? It's only now an' then that the soldier's at war, but the sailor's for over at Fea. That's how I thinks about it now." The following evening early Bruce spoke across the fence to his neighbour, and repeated his now oft-extended invitat ion. " Won't ye come round an' smoke a nipt? v.i' me. James?" "Thank ye, blister Bruce," returned Forgan, coldly, "but I'm goin' out to the fishin'." " I thought ye had orders not to go in the boat. I heard as yer arm were

"My arm's my business," snapped Forgan, and Bruce turned quickly away. " 'Tis the last time I speaks to him," tho soldier muttered wrathfully, with an oath. "If ho don't want to bo neighbourly, why, neither do I." '< Presently he saw the old sailor put off from shore in the little punt which had lain neglected for nigh a month. The weather was cloudy, and a slight ripple stole down the loch. Several other fishers were trolling along. ' James is at it again," remarked a villager who had just perched' himself on the wall. " He'll do for hissel' yet." Forgan got out his rods and rowed slowly towards the point, the breeze astern.& • '' James has been in a terrible temper this while back," the villager continued, helping himself from the soldier's pouch. "There's no speakin' to him." ' Tis like as if ho was bothered 'bout something," said Bruce. "He'll be bothered to get back the night anyway. It's goin 'to be squally. See, up the loch," said the other, pointing .at a rapidly increasing black patch on the water. " The doctor 'd be mad if ho seed him now."

It was growing dark as Forgan stumbled ashore at the rough rocky pier. He was pale with pain and shaking with impotent rage. He gave no thanks to the owner of the boat who had- towed his punt to land. He refused the assistance of Bruce, who had been waiting on the beach, and his language was most deplorable. " Now, look here, James," said tho doctor, an hour later, he having been summoned by a cyclist from his home, three miles distant, "if you breathe another curse I'll clap you under chloroform. Your arm will come right in time, but not for rowing. Don't touch the bandages on any account. I'll bo back in the .morning. Your neighbour, Bruce, is willing to look after you. He knows as much about bandages as I do, so if anything goes wrong in my absence he can set it right." "Blast him ! I don't want him ! 'Tis all his fault!" Forgan burst out with a shower of abuse, stopped suddenly, and began tft whimper childishly. At last the doctor, having managed to soothe him, left him in charge of his neighbour for the night. " Don't mind anything ho says," the young man whispered to Bruce at the cottage door. " He's very old, you know." " He's welcome to say anything he likes, sir," returned Bruce. Ad' I'm old enough to be —brother—if he'd let me," he added under his breath. He went into the parlour and asked the invalid if he wanted anything. " No," was the curt response. " All light, James," ho said cheerfully. " I'm goin' to sit here—l sha'n't disturb ye—an' ye've only got to speak when ye want anything." " Well, don't sit there. I can't see him for yer head," growled Forgan. "See who?" "The Admiral, ijit!" Bruce shifted his chair, and followed the other's eyes to the portrait. 1 " Why," he exclaimed softly, "I seem to ha' seen that face afore." " Not in the army," said Forgan sharply. " Well, p'raps not," Bruce admitted. " But I thought I knowed it. Are ye not for sleepin', James?" "'Twas on board his ship, the Centurion, the Admiral give his photygraph to the oldest A.B. in tho service—which was James Forgan. 'Tis many years ago, but I remembers it well. 1 served on the Centurion live year, an' afore that on the Sultan seven year, an' afore that afore that—" His voice trailed off into silence. Bruce thought lie had gone to sleep, and ho rose to lower tho lamp. " Leave it!" commanded Forgan. " How can I see him if ye put out the light?" And he rumbled" with bad lan- _ " \ o're a, rare one at the cursin', James," observed Bruce pleasantly. " I used to be fairish good at f myself." "Convarted?" snarled James. " Not exactly. Lived wi' my sister rest, her!— my discharge." " Then 'tis no credit to you, Mister Bruce. An' ye needn't be thinkin' yerself better'n other folk". That's my advice to you t"

"An' very good advice it is, James," said tlio old soldier, after swallowing an oath. There was silence for five minutes. " Ye said ye was through the Crimea," said Forgan abruptly. ' Ay.'' "Anything to prove it?" Bruce jumped up and sat down again. " Medal," he said briefly. " I want to sec yer medal, Mister Bruce." " —I'll let ye see it another time." "Is it next door?" Bruce hesitated . Then very unwillingly he indid the three upper buttons of his waistcoat and turned back one flap. " Come close," muttered Forgan, and the other crossed the floor and halted beside the bunk. , Forgan uttered an exclamation. Sewn to the lining were two silver and two bronze medals. " Four medals, by God ! —ye are a better man than I thought ye, Thomas Bruce." Bruce smiled uncomfortably and went back to his sent. Perhaps James would more neighbourly now. But James, after his generous outburst, relapsed into sullen silence, for the sight

of the medals had but added to his jealousy. Twice during tho long hours of dark and light the watcher gave the sufferer water, but no conversation passed between them, and at six o'clock a woman from the village relieved Bruce. IV. It was mid-August. The old soldier sat at his cottago door reading the morning paper, to which he was a regular subscriber. Ho required spectacles for reading, and the sight of them was about the only thing that warmed his neighbour's heart in these days. Forgan had grown a little more civil of speech, but his manner was as distant as ever. " Mornin,' " he said shortly as ho came out of the cottage, telescope under arm. " Grand mornin,' James. Like to look at the papers?" " I never looks at the papersall nonsense !" Bruce laughed. " All the same, there's something to interest you in this mornin's papers. Listen to this bit. ' The Lyra, Admiral York's fino steam yacht, arrived at the Tail of the Bank late last night. She will probably spend some days in the Clyde.' How's that, James?" The face of tho sailor was changed. "Tho Admiral!" he cried. "The Admiral in the Clyde! Read it again." Bruce obeyed, but before he had finished Forgan was on his knees, with the glass resting on the wall in front of him. Ho was trembling too much to hold the telescope standing erect. " I seo her!" he exclaimed, and he pointed at a large white yacht gloaming off Greenock. " They're weighin anchor!" he went on. " An' the Admiral's on board ! My God ! if I could see him again!" Presently he stood up with a shout. She's makin' for the loch ! She's makin' for Fairport! The Admiral'— the Admiral's comin'. What if he's comin' to see James Forgan—" "Steady, James," said the old soldier gently. "Who the blazes told you to speak?" yelled Forgan. " The Admiral's comin'," ho went on, " an' James Forgan's in his old togs !" He tried to look through the wavering glass, dropped it and tottered into the cottage. Bruce remained watching the approaching vessel, sadly. When Forgan reappeared, garbed in his Sunday best, the Lyra was Hearing the shore, in front of the cottages. The old sailor was frantic with excitement. Then he swore and wrung his hands helplessly. "D'ye want to go out to the yacht?" asked Bruce, quietly. "How the —!" began Forgan, lifting his ill stiff arm. I'll row ye out." said Bruce. "See, the yacht's stopping." "You row me! Ye told me ye didn't like tho water." " ' Tis true; but I've, rowed a boat afore now. Come along, James. Quick march !" Five minutes later Bruce was' awkwardly propelling the punt, with Forgan in the stern, towards tho Lyra. When they were half-way a smart launch shot away from the yacht's side in tho direction of the village. "Is tho Admiral on the small boat?" panted Bruce, resting on his oars. " No," snapped Forgan. " Can't ye pull? Quicker! Quicker, man!" " ' Tis a. poor sailor I'd make, James." said the old soldier, equably, pulling like to break his back. Forgan was gazing at the Lyra. "I see him—the Admiral!" ho said, at last, in a choking voice. " Tho Admiral—God bless him Bruce lifted his eyes and saw a tall, clean-shaven old man, in dark blue garments, against the rail and scanning the coast through a field-glass. " Easy, now," whispered Forgan, motioning to his companion to take the punt alongside the white hull ; then ho signed him to cease rowing. The punt came to rest beneath the Admiral, who lowered his glass. James Forgan looked up and touched his cap. The Admiral looked down and saw a, very old man with the tears running down his weather-beaten cheeks. Thomas Bruce bent low over the oars and prayed that the Admiral had a good memory. The Admiral fumbled at his breast and produced a pair of eyeglasses, as if lie disliked them. He put them 011 his big nose, and his pursed lips parted*

"Aha! Centurion, ahoy!" ho cried, his eyes twinkling. "Is Gunner Forgau on board':" But Gunner Forgan was speechless. The Admiral understood. He was thankful that his memory had not played him false, though Forgan had been regarded as a bit of a character in the flagship, being greatly fumed for his fictitious narratives. "Come on board, Forgan," said the Admiral kindly. "We must have a chat together." Bruce took the punt to the gangway, and a couple of yachtsmen assisted Forgan to the deck. The yachtsmen inquired if Bruce were not coming also, but he shook his head. "I'll just wait for him," he said, smiling. In the deck smoking-room the steward had served a second round of refreshments, and the eld sailor had lost his nervousness and was beaming with pride and gratification. By the way, Forgan," said the Admiral, "I've another friend I want to see in Fairport. I had sent the launch ashore for him and you, of course," lie added quickly " just before you turned up. I suppose you know Thomas Bruce, an old soldier who set-

tied in the place a few months ago? I've never met him myself, but my brother asked me to be sure to look him up when I was in the Clyde, and I hope the launch will soon bo back with him." It was then that the devil smiled most sweetly on old James Forgan. How easy to let the launch come back with word that Bruce was not to bo found! " I should like to see the man," continued the Admiral. " I owe him a great deal for something ho did many years ago. Unfortunately, tho Lyra must leave in an hour for Oban." Forgan's hands savagely twisted his cap beneath the crystal-laden rosewood table. Suddenly it occurred to him that it was the Admiral's desire, not his own, that must be considered. Swab that he was! He found his voice. " Why, sir," he said unsteadily, " Thomas Bruce is my next-door neighbour, an' he's in the punt alongside." " God bless me! Why didn't you tell me before?" cried the Admiral. "Of course,

you didn't know." be added kindly. Summoning the mate, be said: "Admiral York's compliments to Sergeant Thomas Bruce, V.C., and ask him kindly to step on board. Bring him here, Rylands." James Forgan fell back on the cushions. Sergeant! V.C.! Admiral York's compliments ! I'm glad you've got such a good neighbour," remarked the Admiral. "Two fine old fellows like yourselves must have a deal in common." The old sailor mumbled something, and look a mouthful from his glass. He needed it. Bruce entered, saluted, and stood stiffly at attention. The Admiral rose and greeted him warmly. I've wanted to shake your hand for many a year, sergeant," he said. " You don't, know me'.'" " Admiral York, sir," stammered Brace. " Something better than that. I'm Lord Lanark's brother. Now von know me." The sallow cheeks of Sergeant Bruce flushed deeply. " Sit down, Bruce," said the Admiral, and rang for the steward.. "My brother

told me where you were, and I was glad to have the chance of seeing you. And are you pleased with your new liome?""Tell his Lordship, please, —the old soldier's voice shook" tell him I've nothin* left to want for." " That's a good message, and I'll tell him with pleasure. He's still hearty, but not so fond of moving about as I am. Your health, Bruce, and many happy years." The Admiral laughed, and turned to Forgan, who was staring blankly at his neighbour. " The same to you, Forgan. I suppose you and the sergeant here have been swapping yarns since you first met. He'll have told you all his Crimea experiences, and how ho risked his life to save my brother's at Inkerman, and how he got the Cross at — "Saved yer brother, sir cried Porgan, his voice rising to a faint screech. Carried him, wounded, under fire' —" The Admiral stopped, looking from one to the other. Then, like a wise mar. who sees something he does not understand, he changed the subject. " Come and have a look round the Lyra," he said briskly, rising. " There's a lot of things in steam and electricity that didn't exist in the Centurion, Forgan. Hut I've one of the old ship's small guns on board— a keepsakewhich I dare say you'd line to pat again." V. The Admiral sent them Lome in the launch, the punt astern, laden with two hampers of good things. Moreover, each man carried a new five-pound note in his pocket. On reaching shore each man went straight to his own cottage. But half an hour later the old sailor was at the old soldier's door. " Can't open my basket wi' my bad arm,"' ho said abruptly. " All right, James. I'll help ye." They went round to Forgan's parlour together. Bruce speedily opened the Hamper, and made to depart. "Hold on," said Forgan hoarsely. " Sergeant Thomas Bruce, V.C., an' other medals, can ye forgive adirty, rotten, old swab, a —" _ And he poured forth a string of fvituperations referring to himself. Bruco checked him at last. " ' Twastncvcr anything but friends I wanted to be," he said slowly, gazing at the ground. "l!m gettin' too eld for quarrels. An' I'd rather hear ye tellin' yarns than cursin', James. S'pose ye como round an' mess wi* me tonight, an' gimme a treat. I'm sick o' tcllm* stories, none o' which was true." "Not true?" "Well, ye see, I— could never bear to tell the truth. 'Tis too much for me. Will ye come, James He held out his hand. " For sure, Thomas," replied Forgan, shamefacedly, gripping it. "But I'm a miserable, dirty, rotten "I'm off, James!" said Bruce, and went away laughing. . * In the evening he stood at his door, waiting for his neighbour. He looked about him and smiled. " ' Tis good," he sighed contentedly. " 'Tis fine an' good!"