had watched it for years, and which to this day brings
one to those who recall it. Nathan, with a look of
quizzical anxiety on his pinched face, would tiptoe
cautiously into the room, peering about to make sure
of Richard's presence, his thin, almost transparent
fingers outspread before him to show Richard that
they were empty. Richard would step forward and,
with a tone of assumed solicitude in his voice, would
say:

"Don't tell me, Nathan, that you have forgotten
your flute?" and Nathan, pausing for a moment,
would suddenly break into a smile, and with a queer
little note of surprise in his throat, and a twinkle in
his eye, would make answer by slowly drawing from
his coat-tail pocket the three unjointed pieces, holding
them up with an air of triumph and slowly putting
them together. Then these two old "Merry-Andrews"
would lock arms and stroll into the library,
laughing like school-boys.

To-night, however, as Nathan had been specially
invited to play, this little ceremony was omitted. On
entering the hall the musician gave his long, black,
pen-wiper cloak and his hat to Malachi, and supporting
himself by his delicate fingers laid flat on the
hall-table, extended first one thin leg, and then the
other, while that obsequious darky unbuttoned his
gaiters. His feet free, he straightened himself up,
pulled the precious flute from his coat-tail pocket and