f mine
always persisted in coming down to see the last of me, and bringing the
whole family too--no matter if I was only going away for a month. I was
her favourite. I always turned up again in a few months; but if I'd come
back every next boat it wouldn't have made the slightest difference to
her. She'd say that I mightn't come back some day, and then she'd never
forgive herself nor the family for not seeing me off. I suppose she'll
see the end of me yet if she lives long enough--and she's a wiry old
lady of the old school. She was old-fashioned and dressed like a fright,
they said at home. They hated being seen in public with her; to tell the
truth, I felt a bit ashamed, too, at times. I wouldn't be, now. When I'd
get her off on to the wharf I'd be overcome with my feelings, and have
to retire to the privacy of the bar to hide my emotions till the
boat was going. And she'd stand on the end of the pier and wave her
handkerchief and mop her old eyes with it until she was removed by
force.

"God bless her old heart! There wasn't so much affection wasted on me
at home that I felt crowded by hers; and I never lost anything by her
seeing the last of me.

"I do wish the Oracle would stop that confounded fiddle of his--it makes
you think over damned old things."

Two Boys at Grinder Brothers'

Five or six half-grown larrikins sat on the cemented sill of the big
window of Grinder Bros.' Railway Coach Factory waiting for the work
bell, and one of the number was Bill Anderson--known as "Carstor
Hoil"--a young terror of fourteen or fifteen.

"Here comes Balmy Arvie," exclaimed Bill as a pale, timid-looking little
fellow rounded the corner and stood against the wall by the door. "How's
your parents, Balmy?"

The boy made no answer; he shrank closer to the entrance. The first bell
went.

"What yer got for dinner, Balmy? Bread 'n' treacle?" asked the young
ruffian; then for the edification of his chums he snatched the boy's
dinner bag and emptied its contents on the pavement.

The door opened. Arvie gathered up his lunch, took his time-ticket, and
hurried in.

"Well, Balmy," said one of the smiths as he passed, "what do you think
of the boat race?"

"I think," said the boy, goaded to reply, "that it would be better if
young fellows of this country didn't think so much about racin' an'
fightin'."

The questioner stared blankly for a moment, then laughed suddenly in the
boy's face, and turned away. The rest g