"Well, you haven't hurried yourself," grumbled the old man, "and
blarm me if now you haven't forgotten the wood."

I was lunching with an Englishman in a London restaurant one day. A
man entered and took his seat at a table near by. Glancing round,
and meeting my friend's eyes, he smiled and nodded.

"Excuse me a minute," said my friend, "I must just speak to my
brother--haven't seen him for over five years."

He finished his soup and leisurely wiped his moustache before
strolling across and shaking hands. They talked for a while. Then
my friend returned to me.

"Never thought to see him again," observed my friend, "he was one of
the garrison of that place in Africa--what's the name of it?--that
the Mahdi attacked. Only three of them escaped. Always was a lucky
beggar, Jim."

"But wouldn't you like to talk to him some more?" I suggested; "I can
see you any time about this little business of ours."

"Oh, that's all right," he answered, "we have just fixed it up--shall
be seeing him again to-morrow."

I thought of this scene one evening while dining with some Russian
friends in a St. Petersburg Hotel. One of the party had not seen his
second cousin, a mining engineer, for nearly eighteen months. They
sat opposite to one another, and a dozen times at least during the