conversation."

As this bombardment proceeded, the sergeant's jaw dropped. When
it was finished he laughed heartily and slapped his knee. "Man,
come an' brak bread wi' me or I'll hae to brak yer stiff neck."

A truce was declared over a cozy pot of tea, and the two became
at least temporary friends. It was such a day that the landlord
would have gossiped with a gaol bird; and when a soldier who has
seen years of service, much of it in strange lands, once admits a
shopkeeper to equality, he can be affable and entertaining
"by the ordinar'." Mr. Traill sketched Bobby's story broadly, and
to a sympathetic listener; and the soldier told the landlord of
the animals that had lived and died in the Castle.

Parrots and monkeys and strange dogs and cats had been brought
there by regiments returning from foreign countries and colonies.
But most of the pets had been native dogs--collies, spaniels and
terriers, and animals of mixed breeds and of no breed at all, but
just good dogs. No one knew when the custom began, but there was
an old and well-filled cemetery for the Castle pets. When a dog
died a little stone was set up, with the name of the animal and
the regiment to which it had belonged on it. Soldiers often went
there among the tiny mounds and told stories of the virtues and
taking ways of old favorites. And visitors read the names of
Flora and Guy and Dandie, of Prince Charlie and Rob Roy, of
Jeanie and Bruce and Wattie. It was a merry life for a dog in the
Castle. He was petted and spoiled by homesick men, and when he
died there were a thousand mourners at his funeral.