Year: 1868

iont SpirlIS llySell, saw dG SldnV
there was something wrong. Ny
principal was a good fellow, but, ike
the rest of US, his temper was not the
most certain in the world. Some
times he came looking black aid
gloomy, and sometimes my step was
not as light and jaunty as it should
have been. But We pulled very we'll
together. The end of the official day
found US as happy as any two releas-
ed government clerks in the service,
and the very best of friends.


When my principal looked mp from
hIs papers that morning, l saw in an
instant that his gloominess did not
proceed from a disordered liver, or
result from a sleepless night, conse-
quent on an extra glass of wine the
evening before. His temper was not
ruffed. He was sad.


| said to myself, as nodded to him
and passed to my desk, that should
soon find out what depressed him, for
never were two men more confden-
tial than my good old principal and
myself.


On this occasion, however, he did
not wait to be pumped, as usual. He
took up the supplement sheet of the
Times, and throwing it across to me,
merely said, "Poor fellow"


| began at the Births.
| think | laughed a little when my
eye caught the following paragraph;


"On the Both inst, the wife of G.
Trevor, Esq, of a son"


1t was Lent, and there were few
marriages-nOne, at any rate, that in
terested me. [ was just about to
burst out with some wild bit of ex-
travagance apropOs of old Sharkey's
melancholy face, when another para
graph in a tar more gloomy section of
the paper attracted my attention.


"On the Both inst, the beloved wife
of G. Trevor, Esq, aged twenty-eight. "


This was indeed sad news. knew
Charles Trevor well, had known him,
indeed, since the day on which he first
made his appearance in the Office a
bright-faced, beardless boy, fresh from
school, and consequently first in the
competition before the dreaded CON-
missioners in Deans Yard, Westmins-
ter.


A year ago Charley Trevor had
married. We thought him a fool for
his pains, and limited as much as deli
cateIy as we could. But he was infat-
uated-offh his head altogether; good
that many woman would have mold
ed into something superlatively good
in the way of men; but he fell in love
with a woman with strange green eyes
and thin lips, and married her.


was present at the wedding
Charley's best man, in fact; but some
how or other, from the time he was
engaged until he was married, we
were not such firm friends as in the
old days, and after the wedding | saw
very little of him indeed.


had dined with them once, and du-
ring that one evening persuaded my
self of three facts; first of all | con-
fessed to myself that l did not like
Mrs. Trevor; secondly, that Mrs. Ire
vor did not like her husband, and
thirdly, that my friend idolized his
wife.


And now, within one short year of
their wedding, | stood with the paper
in my hand, and read therein that
Charley Trevor was father and a
widower.


| knew of course what was my duty
my painful duty. felt that | ought
to 90 at once to my friend and try
and comfort him. Charley Trevor
was not the sort Of man that should be
left alone after such an awful blow as
this. Highly sensitive, nervous, pas
sionate and impetuous, his was the
kind of grief most painful for man to
suffer, and most terrible for man to
witness.


Men have such different ways of
showing their sorrow, that these little
matters of friendship become occasion
ally very delicate matters, To some,
the sight of a we'll known face is
soothing in the extreme, and an oppor-
tunity for confidence and consolation
goes halfway toward a cure; while
others prefer to hide themselves away,
to shut themselves up with their sor-
row in some lonely room apart from
every one in the world, no matter how
friendly, and resent an approach to
them as an insult. They feel that no
one can appreciate their agony, and
that it is an impertinence to attempt
to alleviate it with kindness and af-
lection.


However it was my duty, and | went
in the dark of the day on which l had
heard of my friends loss to try aud
comfort him. | was certainly not pre-
pared to find him as | did. He had
suffered awfully, | could see that; but
his suffering seemed to be the result
of rage rather than despair. There
was not that fearful expression ol
countenance, speaking more eloquent
ly than words, of void which could
never be replaced.


He was pacing up and down the
room with quick. sharp, angry steps,
and noticed that the door had opened
and had entered. He looked at me
at first rather fercely, but his face
seemed worn and tired, like the face
of an old man.


allow good it is of you to come" "
he said in a thick, hoarse voice.
L ~