a kind of Highland snuffle out of the man that raised my
dander strangely.

"Well, Mr. Macgregor," said I, "I understand the main thing for a
soldier is to be silent, and the first of his virtues never to
complain."

"You have my name, I perceive"--he bowed to me with his arms
crossed--"though it's one I must not use myself. Well, there is a
publicity--I have shown my face and told my name too often in the beards
of my enemies. I must not wonder if both should be known to many that I
know not."

"That you know not in the least, sir," said I, "nor yet anybody else;
but the name I am called, if you care to hear it, is Balfour."

"It is a good name," he replied, civilly; "there are many decent folk
that use it. And now that I call to mind, there was a young gentleman,
your namesake, that marched surgeon in the year '45 with my battalion."

"I believe that would be a brother to Balfour of Baith," said I, for I
was ready for the surgeon now.

"The same, sir," said James More. "And since I have been fellow-soldier
with your kinsman, you must suffer me to grasp your hand."

He shook hands with me long and tenderly, beaming on me the while as
though he had found a brother.

"Ah!" says he, "these are changed days since your cousin and I heard the
balls whistle in our lugs."

"I think he was a very far-away cousin," said I, drily, "and I ought to
tell you that I never clapped eyes upon the man."

"Well, well," said he, "it makes no change. And you--I do not think you
were out yourself, sir--I have no clear mind of your face, which is one
not probable to be forgotten."

"In the year you refer to, Mr. Macgregor, I was getting skelped in the
parish school," said I.

"So young!" cries he. "Ah, then you will never be able to think what
this meeting is to me. In the hour of my adversity, and in the house of
my enemy, to meet in with the blood of an old brother-in-arms--it
heartens me, Mr. Balfour, like the skirling of the Highland pipes! Sir,
this is a sad look-back that many of us have to make: some with falling
tears. I have lived in my own country like a king; my sword, my
mountains, and the faith of my friends and kinsmen sufficed for me. Now
I lie in a stinking dungeon; and do you know, Mr. Balfour," he went on,
taking my arm and beginning to lead me about, "do you know, sir, that I
lack mere necessaries? The malice of my foes has quite sequestered my
resources. I lie, as you know, sir, on a trumped-up charge, of w