omebody else who but for me might go through existence lightly? Should
I call sentient beings out of the blessed gulf of nothingness, that they
may pay a duty to my weakness by and by, and curse me in their hearts?
That would be somewhat too high a price to pay for broth when I am
toothless, and the coddling comforts of one who has lived too long."

I am not thin-skinned, but his tone shocked me. "Dear boy," I said,
"they wouldn't look at it in that light. They would be your wife and your
children."

"Yes," he said, still savagely, "they would be my wife and
children--supposing your unsupposable case. Grant that my notions are as
false and monstrous as you think them: a pleasant lot for my wife,
wouldn't it, to be in constant contact with them? And my children would
have my blood in them--the taint of eccentricity, perhaps of madness: O,
I've seen it in your eye. Others would think so too--most, no doubt. No,
Bob; better let it die out with me."

"Jim, you make me tired. I'll go back to the tavern." I was
disappointed, and he saw it.

"Don't make yourself wretched about me, old man. Let this thing go--you
can't mend it. Follow your own doctrine, and take what you find. We have
the May weather, good legs, and our tackle, and the brooks are full of
trout. I kill nothing bigger than fish, but if you want a change I'll
show you where you can have a chance for deer. And for the evenings,
there are other topics besides ourselves--or rather myself. You can tell
me about your children; they are likely to be healthier than mine would
be. Good night, my boy: sound sleep, and no dreams of me."

III.

COMPLICATIONS.

After that I found it best to do as Hartman had said. The sport was
good, but I failed to enjoy it. I suppose I was a fool, for each of us
makes or mars his own life, and it is no use moping over your neighbor's
blunders; but I could not get that poor devil out of my mind. He talks
as well on one subject as on another: it was I, not he, had brought him
under discussion; but the evenings dragged. Then came a letter from
home: the distance is considerable, and the mails slow. "Dear Robert,"
my wife wrote, "I am glad to know you are so comfortable. Keep your
flannels on, and change your clothing when you have been in the wet. The
children are well: Herbert fell over the banisters yesterday, but
fortunately without injury. Bring your friend Mr. H. back with you; he
seems to be presentable, and evidently all