ht or wrong."

Now such a view of that which might soon happen had never been taken by
me; and yet I had spent several years at court, and thought myself well
acquainted with all the intrigues and possibilities of court life. And
here was a young man--in fact not older than myself--which had never in
his life lived at court, prophesying as to what the future would bring
forth. His words were indeed bold, and yet I could not deny that they
were reasonable, and liable to be fulfilled.

I now did admire this handsome and thoughtful stranger, and therefore
methought it a duty put upon me to give him some warning that might
serve to keep that well-shaped head, for a little longer space, upon
its broad, square shoulders. I therefore said:--

"Thine opinions, I have a fear, stand in some likelihood of being
proven true; yet do I pray with my full heart that they may be wrong.
However, whether thou art right or wrong--the which time will
prove--let me now warn thee, which art a stranger here, to keep those
thoughts to thyself. There are those about this place--the more's the
pity--whose shoulders are not bent by the weight of honor they carry,
but from their habit of holding their ears to the keyhole."

"Thanks for thy kind intent," he replied. "After I have had some
little experience at court I do hope that I may acquire the habit of
smiling whilst, with my dagger, I kill my partner in the conversation.
This, I have heard, is the fashion of the Duke of Gloucester; and if I
do prove a true prophet all good courtiers must soon adopt it."

That night as Harleston was leaving my room I promised to see him early
in the morning, and show him through the castle and parks.

As we shook hands at the door I felt as though I had known him for
long, and that we had ever been the best of friends.

That, my dears, was how I became acquainted with Sir Frederick
Harleston, who, since that day, hath ever been close by my side,
through many harsh experiences, as well as through many sunny days of
happiness.

Now we are sailing, side by side, down the mighty river, travelled by
all wearing the fleshly habit. The great unknown sea of oblivion is
now near at hand, and soon we shall both cross the bar and sail forth
upon its smooth and peaceful surface.

But there I go passing over sixty years as lightly as a swallow doth
skim the bosom of smooth waters. And indeed the waters o'er which I am
skimming are not smooth, but rough and t