I was silent for a while, thinking of the tragedy of it all. Then I inquired again: 'Well, but how did you know you had this gift of acting and singing and impersonation? and why did you hide your talent so carefully from us all?' 'It came ower us first, I think,' he answered, 'when reading Shakespeare an' tragedies an' sic like. I seemed ti see the vary actors theirselves before my eyes, an' I fair felt like them, ye ken. Ye'll think it strange, mevvies, but grandfeythor, he had a bit talent that way, an' ran awa frae his home, an' made his livin' play-acting an' piano-playin', an' singin', an' aal. He took ill somewhere aboot here, an' died, an' feythor, he took ti warkin' at the pits, an' that's the story of it,' concluded my little companion shyly. 'But with a gift like yours, why didn't you tell _me_ of it, for example, or the minister, and perhaps we could have got you a proper start somewhere?' 'Ay, I kenned that,' said he, 'an' thank ye kindlies; but I found, on tryin' it, that I wesn't strang enow for't iv a reg'lor way; an' forbye that, I didn't want the laddies ti ken aboot it, lest they might call us "Hamlet," mevvies, or "clownie," or sic like, an' my mother divvent like play-actin'; it was she as made my feythor give it up, sayin' it wes nae bettor than a mugger's[17] life, elwis wanderin' frae one place tiv anuther, an' nae brass iv it at aal.' There was no time for further talk, for the train was waiting, and, arriving at our destination, I found my companion so tired that it was all he could do to walk home. The minister and I put our heads together after this, and collected enough money to send our little friend down to a seaside home for a few weeks. On Saturday night, however, a message came from the doctor that he was rapidly sinking. His mother and brother were both out, as it happened, but the minister and I arrived just in time to bid farewell to the poor little 'Caleb Jay.' As we proceeded silently homeward, an idea came into my head. 'In an age of public testimonials and memorials,' I said, 'humble self-sacrifice goes unrewarded. Our little friend ought to have a statue at the least; but, of course, it is no good doing anything. You, therefore, should bring him into your sermon to-morrow evening, and give a few people a hint of it beforehand.' The idea seemed to strike my companion, and he said he would gladly do so. I had not seen Tom, but as I walked to my lodgings I passed him standing at the street corner amidst a knot of companions. I heard one of them mention the 'Caleb Jay,' and I stayed my steps a moment to hear the reply. 'Ay,' said Tom, 'he was a plucky little beggor iv his way, an' useful tae, an' I was often sorry for him, _he wes sae tarr'ble ugly_! But, ho-way, I's plenty brass on me, and I'll treat ye aal tiv anuthor beor!' FOOTNOTES: