was awful to think of. I
noticed that in my thoughts I was not calling him by his familiar
names, Nick and Nicky, but was speaking of him by his full name, and
reverently, as one speaks of the dead. Also, as incident after incident
of our comradeship came thronging into my mind out of the past, I
noticed that they were mainly cases where I had wronged him or hurt
him, and they rebuked me and reproached me, and my heart was wrung with
remorse, just as it is when we remember our unkindnesses to friends who
have passed beyond the veil, and we wish we could have them back again,
if only for a moment, so that we could go on our knees to them and say,
"Have pity, and forgive."

Once when we were nine years old he went a long errand of nearly two
miles for the fruiterer, who gave him a splendid big apple for reward,
and he was flying home with it, almost beside himself with astonishment
and delight, and I met him, and he let me look at the apple, not
thinking of treachery, and I ran off with it, eating it as I ran, he
following me and begging; and when he overtook me I offered him the
core, which was all that was left; and I laughed. Then he turned away,
crying, and said he had meant to give it to his little sister. That
smote me, for she was slowly getting well of a sickness, and it would
have been a proud moment for him, to see her joy and surprise and have
her caresses. But I was ashamed to say I was ashamed, and only said
something rude and mean, to pretend I did not care, and he made no reply
in words, but there was a wounded look in his face as he turned away
toward his home which rose before me many times in after years, in the
night, and reproached me and made me ashamed again. It had grown dim in
my mind, by and by, then it disappeared; but it was back now, and not
dim.

Once at school, when we were eleven, I upset my ink and spoiled four
copy-books, and was in danger of severe punishment; but I put it upon
him, and he got the whipping.

And only last year I had cheated him in a trade, giving him a large
fish-hook which was partly broken through for three small sound ones.
The first fish he caught broke the hook, but he did not know I was
blamable, and he refused to take back one of the small hooks which my
conscience forced me to offer him, but said, "A trade is a trade; the
hook was bad, but that was not your fault."

No, I could not sleep. These little, shabby wrongs upbraided me and
tortured me, and with a pa