I ought to state that the Smiths were unexpected visitors in the station. It seems that the senior, then an old man, had retired from the service and was living in a hill station and had gone on a holiday visit to his son. The latter concluded to take a run up to our station, and brought my father with him. The old man had probably a desire to look over his old stamping ground, but did not expect to run against his son, that is me, or to see his daughter, the once governess whom he had met years ago on the parade ground, and whom he had betrayed under promise of marriage. I might have invited him to visit Lucknow with me, to go out through that old gully to the little court where my mother, his wife, had lived, but why surmise any further? The above was my last meeting with those two relatives of mine. I never cared to know where they were or to trace them, and would most willingly have ascribed to their memory the Romish letters R. I. P. CHAPTER XXXVII. There is always plenty of work if one is inclined for it. I was always busy. My wife once remarked to a neighbor that if Mr. Japhet had no work he would invent some. I could never understand why any one having common sense, any strength or energy should be idle. I took great pleasure in setting people to work. I was not always successful, who is? Charity is often more hurtful than otherwise, unless the recipients be in ill health or incapable of labor. It degrades the one who receives it, lowers his manhood, deprives him of that self respect so necessary in every vocation of life.