his discourse looked at him as though
his eloquence was in something of the nature of a surprise even to him.

"In my old age and on my beam-ends," continued Mr. Wiggett, "I
remembered them words of old Sol, and I knew if I could only find 'im
my troubles were over. I knew that I could creep into 'is little harbour
and lay snug. I knew that what Sol said he meant. I lost my leg saving
'is life, and he is grateful."

"So he ought to be," said Mr. Clark, "and I'm proud to shake 'ands with
a hero."

He gripped Mr. Wiggett's hand, and the others followed suit. The
wooden-legged man wound up with Mr. Ketchmaid, and, disdaining to notice
that that veracious mariner's grasp was somewhat limp, sank into his
chair again, and asked for a cigar.

"Lend me the box, Sol," he said, jovially, as he took it from him.
"I'm going to 'and 'em round. This is my treat, mates. Pore old Henry
Wig-gett's treat."

He passed the box round, Mr. Ketchmaid watching in helpless indignation
as the customers, discarding their pipes, thanked Mr. Wiggett warmly,
and helped themselves to a threepenny cigar apiece. Mr. Clark was so
particular that he spoilt at least two by undue pinching before he could
find one to his satisfaction.

Closing time came all too soon, Mr. Wiggett, whose popularity was never
for a moment in doubt, developing gifts to which his friend had never
even alluded. He sang comic songs in a voice which made the glasses
rattle on the shelves, asked some really clever riddles, and wound up
with a conjuring trick which consisted in borrowing half a crown from
Mr. Ketchmaid and making it pass into the pocket of Mr. Peter Smith.
This last was perhaps not quite so satisfactory, as the utmost efforts
of the tailor failed to discover the coin, and he went home under a
cloud of suspicion which nearly drove him frantic.

"I 'ope you're satisfied," said Mr. Wiggett, as the landlord, having
shot the bolts of the front door, returned to the bar.

"You went a bit too far," said Mr. Ketchmaid, shortly; "you should ha'
been content with doing what I told you to do. And who asked you to 'and
my cigars round?"

"I got a bit excited," pleaded the other.

"And you forgot to tell 'em you're going to start to-morrow to live with
that niece of yours in New Zealand," added the landlord.

"So I did," said Mr. Wiggett, smiting his forehead; "so I did. I'm very
sorry; I'll tell 'em tomorrow night."

"Mention it casual like, to-morrow morning," co