closely, or, perchance, because he couldn’t shake the weight of his own tragedies from them. His face was pale, quiet and cadaverous, but whatever troubles he may have had and however many, they seemed not to have attacked his hair for it was all there, nearly,—though I didn’t count ’em—with not a gray one to mar their beautiful mouse-like color. In truth, he dressed like you, looked like you and, by gravy, he was you, Mr. Collins.”
Jack laughed heartily at this photo-impression of his old friend and I was glad to know that after all he had gone through with here, there and everywhere and the pain he had suffered and was suffering even then, he was still able to see the humor in so grisly a subject. I laughed, too, just to show him that I had not yet given up the ship and, hence, there was still hope for us both.
“Turn about is fair play and now that you have given a word picture of me I’ll give one of you. As I remember our meeting it was like this: I was hurrying up Broadway one morning when suddenly a young soldier stepped abruptly in front of me thereby barring any farther progress on my part. I observed he