drag himself as far as the door to bask
in the life-giving sunshine.

"It do hearten me up so," he said one morning, as he glowed in the hot
May sun. "It's a job to keep back the flies, though. They get
owdacious in this weather, and they do plague me cruel."

"I'll keep them off you, uncle," said Norah.

"Eh, but it's fine! This sunshine makes me think o' the glory to come.
You might read me a bit o' the Bible, lass. I find it wonderful
soothing."

"What part would you like, uncle?"

"Oh, them wars."

"The wars?"

"Aye, keep to the wars! Give me the Old Testament for choice. There's
more taste to it, to my mind. When parson comes he wants to get off to
something else; but it's Joshua or nothing with me. Them Israelites
was good soldiers--good growed soldiers, all of 'em."

"But, uncle," pleaded Norah, "it's all peace in the next world."

"No, it ain't, gal."

"Oh, yes, uncle, surely!"

The old corporal knocked his stick irritably upon the ground. "I tell
ye it ain't, gal. I asked parson."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said there was to be a last fight. He even gave it a name, he did.
The battle of Arm--Arm----"

"Armageddon."

"Aye, that's the name parson said. I 'specs the Third Guards'll be
there. And the Dook--the Dook'll have a word to say."

An elderly, grey-whiskered gentleman had been walking down the street,
glancing up at the numbers of the houses. Now as his eyes fell upon
the old man, he came straight for him.

"Hullo!" said he; "perhaps you are Gregory Brewster?"

"My name, sir," answered the veteran.

"You are the same Brewster, as I understand, who is on the roll of the
Scots Guards as having been present at the battle of Waterloo?"

"I am that man, sir, though we called it the Third Guards in those
days. It was a fine ridgment, and they only need me to make up a full
muster."

"Tut, tut! they'll have to wait years for that," said the gentleman
heartily. "But I am the colonel of the Scots Guards, and I thought I
would like to have a word with you."

Old Gregory Brewster was up in an instant, with his hand to his
rabbit-skin cap. "God bless me!" he cried, "to think of it! to think
of it!"

"Hadn't the gentleman better come in?" suggested the practical Norah
from behind the door.

"Surely, sir, surely; walk in, sir, if I may be so bold." In his
excitement he had forgotten his stick, and as he led the way into the
parlour his knees tottered, and he threw