ose who attained a certain
proficiency, and a further reward was offered; the two clerks who earned
most marks and, in the teacher's opinion, reached the highest
proficiency, were to be appointed assistants to the teacher and paid
eight shillings weekly during future shorthand sessions, in addition to
the special increase of salary. It was a great prize and keen was the
contest. I had the good fortune to be one of the two; and the praise I
got, and the benefit of the money made me contented for a time. My
companion in this success, I am glad to know, is to-day alive and well,
and like myself, a superannuated member of society. In his day he was a
notable athlete, at one time bicycling champion of the Midland counties;
and his prowess was won on the obsolete velocipede, with its one great
wheel in front and a very small wheel behind.

A shorthand writer, my work was now to take down letters from dictation,
a remove only for the better from the old way of writing from pencilled
drafts.

Now it was that I made my first sincere and lasting friendship, a
friendship true and deep, but which was destined to last for only ten
short years. Tom was never robust and Death's cold hand closed all too
soon a loveable and useful life. Our friendship was close and intimate,
such as is formed in the warmth of youth and which the grave alone
dissolves. To me, during those short years, it lent brightness and
gaiety to existence; and, in the days that have followed, its memory has
been, and is now, a rich possession.

With both Tom and me it was friendship at first sight, and nothing until
the final severance came ever disturbed its course. He came from Lincoln
and joined the office I was in. He was two years my senior and had the
advantage of several years' experience in station work which I had not.
We were much alike in our tastes and habits, yet there was enough of
difference between us to impart a relish to our friendship. Indifferent
health, for he was delicate too, was one of the bonds between us. We
were both fond of reading, of quiet walks and talks, and we hated crowds.
He was a good musician, played the piano; but the guitar was the
favourite accompaniment to his voice, a clear sweet tenor, and he sang
well. I was not so susceptible to the "concord of sweet sounds" as he
was, but could draw a little, paint a little, string rhymes together; and
so we never failed to amuse and interest each other. He was impulsive,