oking hastily round for the bell-rope. Not being able to find it, my
bell-pull being an unobtrusive knob and not a rope, he rushed to the
door, unlocked it, darted out, and uttered a tremendous roar, which was
followed by a clatter and a scream from old Agnes, whom he had upset and
tumbled over.

It was curious to note the sudden change that took place in Peterkin's
face, voice, and manner, as he lifted the poor old woman, who was very
thin and light, in his arms, and carrying her into the room, placed her
in my easy-chair. Real anxiety was depicted in his countenance, and he
set her down with a degree of care and tenderness that quite amazed me.
I was myself very much alarmed at first.

"My poor dear old _woman_," said Peterkin, supporting my landlady's
head; "my stupid haste I fear you are hurt."

"Hech! it's nae hurt--it's deed I am, fair deed; killed be a
whaumlskamerin' young blagyird. Oh, ma puir heed!"

The manner and tone in which this was said convinced me that old Agnes
was more frightened than injured. In a few minutes the soothing tones
and kind manner of my friend had such an effect upon her that she
declared she was better, and believed after all that she was only a "wee
bit frichtened." Nay, so completely was she conciliated, that she
insisted on conveying the note to the post-office, despite Peterkin's
assurance that he would not hear of it. Finally she hobbled out of the
room with the letter in her hand.

It is interesting to note how that, in most of the affairs of humanity,
things turn out very different, often totally different, from what we
had expected or imagined. During the remainder of that evening Peterkin
and I talked frequently and much of our old friend Jack Martin. We
recalled his manly yet youthful countenance, his bold, lion-like
courage, his broad shoulders and winning gentle smile, and although we
knew that six years must have made an immense difference in his personal
appearance--for he was not much more than eighteen when we last parted--
we could not think of him except as a hearty, strapping sailor-boy. We
planned, too, how we would meet him at the coach; how we would stand
aside in the crowd until he began to look about for us in surprise, and
then one of us would step forward and ask if he wished to be directed to
any particular part of the town, and so lead him on and talk to him as a
stranger for some time before revealing who we were. And much more to
the same ef