RAB AND HIS FRIENDS.

ter’s eye, slunk dismayed under the cart
—his ears down, and as much as he had
of tail down too.

What a man this must be, thought I, to
whom my tremendous hero turns tail!
The carrier saw the muzzle hanging cut
and useless from his neck, and I eagerly
told him the story, which Bob and I always
thought, and still think, Homer, or King
David, or Sir Walter alone were worthy
to rehearse. The severe little man was
mitigated, and condescended to say, “ Rab,
ma man, puir Rabbie,” whereupon the
stump of a tail rose up, the ears were
cocked, the eyes filled, and were com-
forted: the two friends were reconciled.
“Hupp!” and a stroke of the whip were
given to Jess, and off went the three.

Bob and I buried the Game Chicken
that night (we had not much of a tea) in
the back green of his house, in Melville

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