--, and make the thing
complete.--Sam Buckley, how are you?"

It was Captain Brentwood who had come on them so inaudibly along the
sandy track, on horseback, and beside him was son Jim, looking rather
mischievously at Sam, who did not show to the best of advantage up in
the peach-tree; but, having descended, and greetings being exchanged,
father and son rode on to dress for dinner, the hour for which was now
approaching, leaving Sam and Alice to follow at leisure, which they
did; for Captain Brentwood and Jim had time to dress and meet in the
verandah, before they saw the pair come sauntering up the garden.

"Father," said Jim, taking the Captain's hand. "How would that do?"

"Marvellous well, I should say;" replied the Captain.

"And so I think, too," said Jim. "Hallo! you two; dinner is ready, so
look sharp."

After dinner the Captain retired silently to the chimney-corner, and
read his book, leaving the three young people to amuse themselves as
they would. Nothing the Captain liked so much as quiet, while he read
some abstruse work on Gunnery, or some scientific voyage; but I am
sorry to say he had got very little quiet of an evening since Alice
came home, and Jim had got some one to chatter to. This evening,
however, seemed to promise well, for Alice brought out a great book of
coloured prints, and the three sat down to turn them over, Jim of
course, you know, being in the middle.

The book was "Wild Sports of the East," a great volume of coloured
lithographs, worth some five-andtwenty guineas. One never sees such
books as that now-a-days, somehow; people, I fancy, would not pay that
price for them. What modern travels have such plates as the old
editions of "Cook's Voyages"? The number of illustrated books is
increased tenfold, but they are hardly improved in quality.

But Sam, I think, would have considered any book beautiful in such
company. "This," said Alice, "is what we call the 'Tiger Book'--why,
you will see directly.--You turn over, Jim, and don't crease the pages."

So Jim turned over, and kept them laughing by his simple remarks, more
often affected than real, I suspect. Now they went through the tangled
jungle, and seemed to hear the last mad howl of the dying tiger, as the
elephant knelt and pinned him to the ground with his tusks. Now they
chased a lordly buffalo from his damp lair in the swamp; now they saw
the English officers flying along on their Arabs through the high grass
with well-pois