been right in supposing that his profession was by no means a burden
to him. I was told again and again that he was a wonderfully
successful and daring surgeon; but he confessed to me that his dislike
to such work continually increased, and could only be overcome in the
excitement of some desperate emergency. It seemed to me at first that
he ought not to let his skill lie useless and idle; but he insisted
that the other doctors did as well as he, that they sent for him if
they wanted him, and he did not care for a practice of his own. So he
had grown into a way of helping his friends with their business; and
he was a microscopist of some renown, and a scientific man, instead of
the practical man he ought to have been,--though his was, after all,
by no means an idle nor a useless life, dear old Jack! He did a great
deal of good shyly and quietly; he was often at the hospitals, and his
friends seemed very fond of him, and said he had too little confidence
in himself. I have often wondered why he did not marry; but I doubt if
he ever tells me, though he knows well enough my own story, and that
there is a quiet grave in Florence which is always in sight, no matter
how far away from it I go, while sometimes I think I know every
ivy-leaf that falls on it from the wall near by.

As I have said, my brother was constantly meeting some one of his old
classmates or army comrades or school friends during that first
winter; and, while sometimes he would ask them to dine at his club, he
oftener brought them home to dine or to lunch; for we were both
possessed with an amazing spirit of hospitality. I wish I could
remember half the stories I have heard, or could keep track of the
lives in which I often grew much interested. There is one curious
story which I knew, and which seems very well worth telling,--an
instance of the curious entanglement of two lives, and of those
strange experiences which some people call supernatural, and others
think simple enough and perfectly reasonable and explainable.

One short, snowy December day, just as it was growing dark, I was
sitting alone in the library, and was surprised to hear my brother's
latch-key click in the hall-door; for he had told me, when he went out
after our very late breakfast, that he should not be in before six,
and perhaps dinner had better wait until seven. He threw off his wet
ulster, and was talking for some time to the man, and at last came in
to me.

"What brings you hom