"Look here, Chirnside," Fenwick went on, "the Little 'Un can't read; but, do you know, she sleeps with my old mother's Bible under her pillow. I can't read either, though you would hardly know it. I lost my sight the year I married (my own fault, of course), and I've been no better than a block ever since. I want you to read me a bit out of the old Book." "Why didn't you send for a minister, Fenwick?" I said. "He could talk to you better than I can." "Don't want anybody to speak to me. Little 'Un has done all that. But I want you to read. And, see here, Chirnside, I was a brute beast to you once--quarrelled with you years ago--" "Don't think of that, Fenwick Major!" I said. "That's all right!" "Well, I won't," he said; "for what's the use? But Little 'Un said, 'Don't let the sun go down upon your wrath.' 'And no more I will, Little 'Un,' says I. So I sent a boy after you, old man." Now, you fellows, don't laugh; but there and then I read three or four chapters of the Bible--out of Fenwick's mother's Bible--the one she handed in at the carriage window that morning he and I set off for college. I actually did and this is the Bible. [_Bentley and Tad Anderson do not laugh_. When I had finished, I said--"Fenwick, I'm awfully sorry, but fact is--I can't pray." "Never mind about that, old man!" said he; "Little 'Un can pray!" And Little 'Un did pray; and I tell you what, fellows, I never heard any such prayer. That little girl was a brick. Then Fenwick Major put out fingers like pipe-staples, and said-- "Old man, you'll give Little 'Un a hand--after--you know." I don't know that I said anything. Then he spoke again, and very slowly-- "It's all right, old boy. Sun hasn't gone down on our wrath, has it?" And even as he smiled and held a hand of both of us, the sun went down. Little brick, wasn't she? Good little soul as ever was! Three cheers for the little wife, I say. What are you fellows snuffling at there? Why can't you cheer? II MAC'S ENTERIC FEVER _Merry are the months when the years go slow, Shining on ahead of us, like lamps in a row: Lamps in a row in a briskly moving town. Merry are the moments ere the night shuts down_. "_Halleval and Haskeval_." In those days we took great care of our health. It was about the only thing we had to take care of. So we went to lodge on the topmost floor of a tall Edinburgh land, with only some indifferent slates and the midnight tomcats between us and the stars. The garret story in such a house is, medically speaking, much the healthiest. We have always had strong views about this matter, and we did not let any considerations of expense prevent us taking care of our health. Also, it is a common mistake to over-eat. Therefore, we students had porridge twice a day, with a herring in between, except when we were saving up for a book. Then we did without the herring. It was a fine diet, wholesome if sparse, and kept us brave and hungry. Hungry dogs hunt best, except retrievers.