came upon the skull in a trunk. The actor who was playing Hamlet was so glad that he promised to give me a supper at Stromsholm. He kept his word, too: steak and vegetables and fizzy pearls. Afterwards it came out that somebody had hid the skull on purpose. It was somebody who wanted to have the rôle and was nearly bursting with jealousy. He certainly needed to get out and fish a little, eh? “Well, that was Hamlet. Afterwards I went over to the opera. I didn’t regret it; music suited me better. That comes about as a man gets older, you see. A man gets tired of the many words. But with music one can think anything at all. I was with the opera upwards of twenty years, up to last Christmas--Aye, aye, a man gets old.... Well, so now I get to amuse myself with the boat here and tramping for the organ at Jacob’s Church. Yes, that affair of the organ tramping is a special particular story which we shan’t talk over now,” said Lundstrom, who seemed to touch with some shyness his transition to the churchly vocation. Hereupon the old man again grasped his crank, and up came another splendid batch of fat breams. With friendly, approving comment he let them vanish into the well. Look here, today is turning out better than I supposed, thought Leonard, who could hardly keep from rubbing his hands. My life and trade seem really prosperous from the frog’s-eye view of this old fisherman. But Lundstrom cast a knowing, sidelong look at him. “No, I steal up into the theatre garret sometimes and hear a little of this world’s music yet, as old as I am. Though it doesn’t give me sleepless nights any more, you see. A man sleeps well when he has a big organ to turn to.” Leonard smiled more broadly and sat quiet, struck by the old man’s repose. This contented frog’s-eye view of the drama of life spread out into a wider perspective than he had supposed at the start. The old man pointed to a paper sticking out of the artist’s pocket. “Should you perhaps care to look what they’re giving up there tonight? ‘Tristan and Isolde.’ Indeed! that’s a fine thing. Then I’ll go up a while. You see I’ve been with them and set scenes for that opera, so it’s an old acquaintance. Well, and so I’ll thank you for your help. It’s past eight and that will have to be enough of the breams till tonight.” It was in fact drawing on towards evening. Heaven’s great voyaging clouds had ceased to move, saturated with the newly-won warmth of the light, and had sunk nearer to earth. In the stealthy silence of the early twilight the roaring of the river grew suddenly stronger, and its whirlpools more suckingly mysterious. It was evident that the spring day had determined to show the last and most dangerous phase of its power. But Lundstrom cast loose from the ring unconcernedly. His craft was slung some fifty yards down with the surge but glided neatly into the smooth water under the River Terrace, where it was moored at its usual place.