alike in their talk and in their
silence, and all went well.

After a time, when they had left the town far behind them, they turned
landward to a place which Mr Hume had known in the days of his youth,
and which he had sought with pleasure, more than once since then. Auld
Boatie knew it also, and took them safely into the little cove which was
floored with shining sands, and sheltered on three sides by great rocks,
on which the sea birds came to rest; on the other side it was open to
the sea. Here he left them for the day.

They had not many appliances for the comfort of the invalid, but they
had all that were needed. A pillow and a plaid spread on the sand made
his bed, and another plaid covered him when the wind came fresh. In the
unexplored basket which Mrs Beaton had provided they had perfect faith
for future needs, and so they rested and looked out upon the sea.

They had not much to say to one another at first. Mr Hume had brought
a book in his pocket, from which he read a page now and then, sometimes
to himself and sometimes to his friend; and as John lay and listened,
looking away to the place where the sky and ocean met, he fell asleep,
and had an hour and more of perfect repose.

How it came about, I cannot tell, but when he opened his eyes to meet
the grave, kind eyes of the minister, looking down upon him, there came
to him an utter softening of the heart--a longing unspeakable for the
rest and peace which comes with the sympathy, be it voiced or silent, of
one who is pitiful and who understands.

The minister put forth his hand and touched the hand of his friend.

"You have been at hard and weary work of late, John, or shall I say, you
have been fighting a battle with a strong foe? and it has gone ill with
you."

John had no words with which to answer him. His lips trembled and the
tears rose to his eyes.

That was the beginning. They had enough to say to one another after a
little time; but not a word of it all is to be written down. Of some
things that passed between them neither ever spoke to the other again.
Before all was said, John "had made a clean breast of it" to the
minister, and had proved in his experience, that "faithful are the
wounds of a friend," and that "a brother is born for adversity." They
had been friends before that day. Thenceforth they were brothers by a
stronger tie than that of blood.

When John was brought home to his mother that night, she could not but
be