ith him, and took his meal anywhere and
by preference when on the run. Perhaps that was one reason why Speug in
after years made one of the best of South African fighters.

When Speug was disinclined for active occupation, and desired to
improve his mind by contact with the greater world, he took a cab, or
hotel 'bus (the box-seat of every one in Muirtown was at Speug's
disposal, and his edifying conversation was much enjoyed by the driver),
and went to spend his hour at Muirtown Station, which, as everybody
knows, is at the shooting season a spectacle to be classed with Niagara
or the Jungfrau for interest, and at any time is worth seeing. It
pleased Speug, whose interests were varied and human rather than
classical and literary, to receive the English express, or even one from
Edinburgh, as it swept into the station; or to see the Aberdeen fast
train fairly off; to watch a horse safely entrained, and if necessary to
give understanding assistance; and to pass the time of day with the
guards, ticket-collectors, and carriage-cleaners, the last of whom would
allow him as a favour to see the inside of the huge mail-carriage, with
its pigeon-holes and its ingenious apparatus for delivering letters at
roadside stations while the train passed at full speed. It was an hour
of what might be called irregular study, but one never knows what he may
pick up if he only keeps his eyes open (and the eyes of Speug were as
open as a savage's), and it was on a visit to Muirtown railway station
that Peter found the opportunity for what he ever considered his most
successful achievement at the Seminary, and one on which the
recollection of his companions still fondly dwells.

When a cab passed the _Muirtown Arms_ 'bus at the entrance to the
station, and the cabman signalled to Peter on the box-seat, and referred
to the contents with an excited thumb and great joy on his face, Peter
knew that there would be something worth seeing when the cab emptied at
the ticket-office; but he could not have imagined anything so entirely
satisfying. First, Bailie MacConachie emerged, dressed in the famous
frock-coat and grey trousers, in the high collar and magisterial stock,
but without his usual calm and dignity. His coat was only half buttoned,
his tie was slightly awry, and although his hat had been distinctly
tilted to the side on getting out of the cab, he was too much occupied
to set it right. Instead of clearing his throat as he alighted among the