ld gentleman partly
rose from his soft armchair, supported himself by one hand on it, and
extended the other to his visitor.

"My name is Myndert Van Quintem, sir," said he, "and I am very glad to
see you." There was a pleasant smile in the old gentleman's pale face,
and a warmth in the grasp of his thin right hand, that attested the
sincerity of his words.

"And my name is Marcus Wilkeson, sir; and I am truly happy to make your
acquaintance," responded the visitor, in his most genial manner.

The old gentleman here showed symptoms of faintness from the exertion of
standing; and Marcus, taking him by the arm, forced him gently into his
easy chair, and took a seat beside him.

"I must apologize for not having called before," said Marcus. "I--"

"Not a word, sir," interrupted the old gentleman. "It is I who must
apologize for the rudeness of nodding and beckoning to a perfect
stranger. But the fact was, I could not regard you as a stranger. Seeing
you at your window, smoking and reading, day after day, while I was
smoking and musing at mine, I gradually came to sympathize with you, and
to wish that the distance across the lots was short enough to allow us
to converse. I thought, perhaps, that on some subjects we might interest
each other. Now, be good enough to fill that pipe and smoke it, while I
tell you in few words who I am."

He pointed to a meerschaum, carved into the semblance of a Dutchman's
head, which looked not unlike his own. It was fitted to a long Turkish
stem, and hung against the wall by a silver chain, within reach of his
hand. Five other pipes of quaint design hung near it.

Marcus protested against smoking in an invalid's presence; but the old
gentleman insisted upon it, and playfully but firmly threatened to smoke
the pipe himself if his guest did not. So Marcus filled the large bowl
from a paper of old, mild tobacco, which hung in a pouch near it, and
drew a few gentle whiffs, intending to let the pipe go out. But the old
gentleman watched him.

"'Twon't do," said he. "That old pipe of mine is not used to neglect. As
a particular favor, now, I beg that you'll smoke, and puff out clouds,
as I have often seen you do across the way."

Marcus protested again, but the old gentleman stubbornly maintained his
point; and it was not till the pungent smoke began to curl upward, that
he proceeded with his personal disclosure.

"Have you ever heard my name before, Mr. Wilkeson?" said he.

Marcus bowe