Year: 1875

not, perhaps, more beautiful bit of seem
cry than the Vale of Waterthwaite. and vet
there is no place in the wide, wide world
which Harry Vernon, few years back as
serted to me he cared less to think about,
and yet which more engrossed and occu-
pied his mind. There it was, however.
that he occasionally had spent some of the
happiest days of his school-boy life, for
thither, during both the midsummer and
Christmas vacations, he was accustomed
to run down from town. where his father
drove trade and prospered well, not ''in
skins OF cats, but as lawyer, to his old
uncle, who not only kept good table, but
one or two good hacks, which Harry was
glad enough to mount, when one or other of
the packs of hariers was astir that were
kept by gentlemen in the neighborhood.


The little town or village Of Water
thwaite, from which the valley takes its
name, is comparatively little known. al
though several good trout streams. be.
sides an average amount of good moorland
for grouse, might induce MANY to take ad-
vantage Of its natural resources, and there
while away their brief holiday, gun or rod
in hand. Rabbits also as in most pants of
favored Westmorland, abound; and so
young Vernon, who Knew how to enjoy
most of the good things Of this fife, ought
to have looked with pleasure in alter time
on the days he mad passeia w Waterthwaite.
Indeed Tor several years be could never
say enough in praise of his pleasant trip,
down to Westmorland, as many of his
quondam school-fellows could testify. Bat
few indeed knew how few hours changed
the whole current of his thoughts, nay, the
whole tenor of his life, from an incident
that befell him during necessarily the last
time he stayed at his uncle's house. ~ 4@'


Poor Harry we were always chums,
and TO me alone he intrusted the sad story
of his earlier life. The heat of India, where
he was ordered with his regiment some.
years ago, finished him up he came home
with a broken constitution, which quite
seemed to give way, when ON seeking his
fathers house in London, he was met with
the sudden news OF his parents death,
which occurred Il month previous to his
landing; and almost at deaths door. he
confided to me the events of his past life,
a life, once bright, suddenly struck down,
and apparently now ebbing away into eter-
nifty. How deeply was moved after hear
ing the tale | am about to relate. l first
hhauS Ci uOh az oChOoIs anu
as we were in the same class. consequent
ly doing the same work, and also both in
the first eleven. we naturally were thrown
together, and acquaintance soon ripened


into firm friendship. He was a tall, ath-
letic young fellow, and his charges in foot.
ball became matter of history in the
school after he had left No one with a
good heart could have helped liking
him, though there were some half-doZen
bulles who were glad to hear that he
would not turn up again next half, but the
school in general were greved at his de-
parture. He too felt sorry enough to leave
the old place, where he had experienced
so many pleasant terms; but 90 he felt he
must, for his nineteenth birthday was close
at hand, and it was high time that he, de-
voted Il year to hard reading with pri-
vate tutor before going in for examination.
as, to tell the truth. he cared more for his
bat than for his books when with me at
Penford under good old DIR. Williams. The
half year came to Il close. On the morning
following the brcak-up, barry accompa-
MED me to the station to see me off, as my
train started about two hours sooner than
The one which carried him to Kings Cross


well, old man, the best OF friends must
part L said, as took my seat in the down
rain for Yorkshire.


"Ah! but shall i'll months time be
lown at Watcrthwaite, he cried, as the
rain began to move on, and l will tell my
uncle to expect You any time this holiday;
You must comc."


With promise that would if l could,
which, unfortunately. most unfortunately,
I..t; I l,i t,nis 4
tired from the window TO the perusal of
my penny paper Little did | imagine
that the next time | saw him should see
quite different being from the joyous
young fellow who had Just now parted
from me And, curiously enough, it was


in another railway station that | saw him
next, about IL twelyemonth after this, Just
for few minutes. was struck, instant
|y by the great change not only in his face,
but i'll his general appearance even his
walk was not the same. TO my anxious
inquiries he replied that he had not been
very well but could see that something
had happened, and that at the same time
my questions seemed out OF place and
painful to him Although his manner was
still the warm friendship he
had previously entertained for me did not
seem to have waned. and when chided
him for not writing, he said he hoped
soon to have done with all book-work,
which had kept him much engaged; and
that when once in the army he was going
to try to get TO India, where 'you will be
sure to hear from me all about tiger-hunt-
ing and pig-stcking, and all sorts Of queer
adventures. | never got line. and the
first Intelligence had OF his having actu-
ally gone out TO India, and having re-
turned again after lapse OF three years.
was from himself, in Il note scrawled in
these words


Dear Iawrencc-l dare say you have
forgotten me, but ii so, it's my own fault.
have just returned home from India on
sick leave, to find that my dear old
'ather month ago was committed to the
grave. am quite broken down the doc
tors give me little hope of recovery feel
it's true, and I'm glad of it, Do come up
and see me, if YOU are still alive. God
grant this may find you. Don't write but
come at once; do not disregard the wish
of a dying man and your old chum.


HARRY VERNON.


As you may well imagine, was awfully
and it was not until was being
whirled away by Il fast express towards
with small port-manteau packed
with such few neeessaries as l should re.