at, fellows, I never heard any
such prayer. That little girl was a brick.

Then Fenwick Major put out fingers like pipe-staples, and said--

"Old man, you'll give Little 'Un a hand--after--you know."

I don't know that I said anything. Then he spoke again, and very
slowly--

"It's all right, old boy. Sun hasn't gone down on our wrath, has it?"

And even as he smiled and held a hand of both of us, the sun went down.

Little brick, wasn't she? Good little soul as ever was! Three cheers for
the little wife, I say. What are you fellows snuffling at there? Why
can't you cheer?

II

MAC'S ENTERIC FEVER

_Merry are the months when the years go slow,
Shining on ahead of us, like lamps in a row:
Lamps in a row in a briskly moving town.
Merry are the moments ere the night shuts down_.

"_Halleval and Haskeval_."

In those days we took great care of our health. It was about the only
thing we had to take care of. So we went to lodge on the topmost floor
of a tall Edinburgh land, with only some indifferent slates and the
midnight tomcats between us and the stars. The garret story in such a
house is, medically speaking, much the healthiest. We have always had
strong views about this matter, and we did not let any considerations of
expense prevent us taking care of our health.

Also, it is a common mistake to over-eat. Therefore, we students had
porridge twice a day, with a herring in between, except when we were
saving up for a book. Then we did without the herring. It was a fine
diet, wholesome if sparse, and kept us brave and hungry. Hungry dogs
hunt best, except retrievers.

In this manner we lived for many years with an excellent lady, who never
interfered with our ploys unless we broke a poker or a leaf of the table
at least. Then she came in and told us what she thought of us for ten
eloquent minutes. After that we went out for a walk, and the landlady
gathered up the fragments that remained.

It was a lively place when Mac and I lodged together. Mac was a painter,
but he had not yet decided which Academy he would be president of--so
that in the meantime Sir Frederick Langton and Sir Simeon Stormcloud
could sleep in their beds with some ease of mind.

Our room up near the sky was festooned with dim photographs of immense
family tombstones--a perfect graveyard of them, which proved that the
relations of Mrs. Christison, our worthy landlady, would have some
trouble in getting to bed in anythi