CHAPTEE XIII. 



THE HISTORY OF AN OLD FRIEND. 



" The poor make no new friends, 

 But, oh they love the better 

 The few our Father sends." 



Lady Dupferin. 



The night had drawn its curtains when we reached our bivouac, 

 but the fire made it day between the two white tents, where our 

 supper was spread, and where, when supper was done, we stretched 

 ourselves in dreamy mood, watching the embers glow and listening 

 to the tale go round. It was my turn to tell a story, but being of 

 a philosophical frame of mind I narrated a history, and was about 

 to preface it with a few deprecatory remarks, when one of my 

 auditors rudely cut me short by saying — 



" Bang away ; never mind the priming." 



The following was the tale I told — It is the history of an 



OLD FRIEND : — 



There are some persons in this world of ours that are in- 

 correctly estimated. They are not the talking people that boast 

 themselves into our notice, nor the silent people that, with an air 

 of profundity, impress us with their powers, while they repress all 

 of ours. They are not the showy people, whose dress and equipage, 

 house, wife, and watering-place dazzle us, nor the men in great 

 places in the nation, nor the very pious men. They, perchance, 

 are very plain folk, and don't obtrude. They are composed in 

 manner, and simple in their words. You will not hear anything 

 very bad of them, unless some fashionable person says it in her 

 manner rather than her words, when alluding to them. If you 

 know them, and you can't know them in a day, you will like 

 them for ever. 



Such characters are sometimes found in society, in the full 



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