anxious. The letter hadn't come. I thought of the many blind
musicians in Sydney, and I thought of the bushman's chance, standing at
a corner swanking a cheap concertina, and I felt sorry for him.

I went out with a vague idea of seeing someone about the matter, and
getting something done for the bushman--of bringing a little influence
to his assistance; but I suddenly remembered that my clothes were worn
out, my hat in a shocking state, my boots burst, and that I owed for a
week's board and lodging, and was likely to be thrown out at any moment
myself; and so I was not in a position to go where there was influence.

When I went back to the restaurant there was a long, gaunt
sandy-complexioned bushman sitting by Jack's side. Jack introduced him
as his brother, who had returned unexpectedly to his native district,
and had followed him to Sydney. The brother was rather short with me
at first, and seemed to regard the restaurant people--all of us, in
fact--in the light of spielers who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage
of Jack's blindness if he left him a moment; and he looked ready
to knock down the first man who stumbled against Jack, or over his
luggage--but that soon wore off. Jack was going to stay with Joe at the
Coffee Palace for a few weeks, and then go back up-country, he told me.
He was excited and happy. His brother's manner towards him was as if
Jack had just lost his wife, or boy or someone very dear to him. He
would not allow him to do anything for himself, nor try to--not even
lace up his boot. He seemed to think that he was thoroughly helpless,
and when I saw him pack up Jack's things, and help him at the table and
fix his tie and collar with his great brown hands, which trembled all
the time with grief and gentleness, and make Jack sit down on the
bed whilst he got a cab and carried the trap down to it, and take
him downstairs as if he were made of thin glass, and settle with the
landlord--then I knew that Jack was all right.

We had a drink together--Joe, Jack, the cabman, and I. Joe was very
careful to hand Jack the glass, and Jack made joke about it for Joe's
benefit. He swore he could see a glass yet, and Joe laughed, but looked
extra troubled the next moment.

I felt their grips on my hand for five minutes after we parted.

ARVIE ASPINALL'S ALARM CLOCK

In one of these years a paragraph appeared in a daily paper to the
effect that a constable had discovered a little boy asleep on the st