uld be made.

Old Jakes has been obliged to give up the gardening, and Joe Crouch has
been installed in his stead. Joe has finished his time, both with the
colours and in the reserve; but he is the soldier still--smart, clean,
and never needing to have an order repeated twice. He often
unconsciously falls back into former habits, and comes marching up the
path with his spade at the "slope" or his hoe at the "trail," whistling
softly the old quick-step, which once drew our hero to "go with the
rest, and follow the drum."

For Jack he cherishes the fondest regard and deepest admiration, which
he never hesitates to express in such words as these:--

"Aw, yes, sir! he's what I call the right sort, is Master Jack. He
don't turn his back on an old cumred, as some would. I 'member the day
he bought himself out. 'Well, good-bye,' says I--'we've been
soldierin' together a good time, and in some queer places; but now
you're goin' back to be a gen'leman again, and I suppose we shan't see
each other never no more.' 'I should be a precious poor gen'leman if I
ever forgot you, Joe,' says he; 'you stood by me when I first came to
barracks, and some day I hope I shall be able to do something for you
in return.' And so he did, for he kept writin' to me, and when my time
was up he got me this place. Look here, sir, the day he come to enlist
the corporal at the gate says to him, 'We ought to make a general of
such a fine chap as you;' and you take my word for it, that's just what
they would have made of him, if he'd only stopped long enough!"

Of Barbara something might be said, but that something is for the
present supposed to be a secret. Jack, who, like the average boy,
always seemed to have a knack of finding out things that were intended
to be kept private, knows more than he ought about this matter; and
bringing out a handful of coppers at the table, and representing them
to be the whole of his savings, declares that he will be "dead broke"
should any unforeseen circumstance necessitate his purchasing a wedding
present. Whereupon his cousin blushes, and puts her fingers in her
ears, and says, "I can't hear," but listens all the time.

Of Raymond Fosberton, perhaps the less said the better. His name has
come very near being mentioned in a court of law, for forging his
father's signature to a cheque, and is therefore seldom mentioned among
his friends. One thing, however, might be told concerning his last
visit to Bre