Rab and his Friends.

FouR-AND-THIRTY years ago, Bob Ainslie
and I were coming up Infirmary Street
from the High School, our heads together,
and our arms intertwisted, as only lovers
and boys know how or why.

When we got to the top of the street
and turned north we espied a crowd at
the Tron Church. “ A dog-fight!”’ shout-
ed Bob, and was off ; and so was I, both
of us all but praying that it might not be
over before we got up! And is not this
boy nature, and human nature too? And
don’t we all wish a house on fire not to be
out before we see it? Dogs like fighting ;
old Isaac says they “delight” in it, and for

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