smoking carriage which held four soldiers returning from leave.

The train was already moving when a late passenger hurried
along the platform and clambered in beside me. A cheery 'Mornin',
Mr McCaskie,' revealed my fellow guest at the hotel.

We jolted away from the coast up a broad glen and then on to a
wide expanse of bog with big hills showing towards the north. It
was a drowsy day, and in that atmosphere of shag and crowded
humanity I felt my eyes closing. I had a short nap, and woke to
find that Mr Linklater had changed his seat and was now beside me.

'We'll no get a Scotsman till Muirtown,' he said. 'Have ye nothing
in your samples ye could give me to read?'

I had forgotten about the samples. I opened the case and found
the oddest collection of little books, all in gay bindings. Some were
religious, with names like _Dew _of _Hermon and _Cool _Siloam; some
were innocent narratives, __How Tommy saved his _Pennies, __A Missionary
Child in _China, and __Little Susie and her _Uncle. There was a __Life of
David _Livingstone, a child's book on sea-shells, and a richly gilt
edition of the poems of one James Montgomery. I offered the
selection to Mr Linklater, who grinned and chose the Missionary
Child. 'It's not the reading I'm accustomed to,' he said. 'I like
strong meat - Hall Caine and Jack London. By the way, how d'ye
square this business of yours wi' the booksellers? When I was in
Matheson's there would have been trouble if we had dealt direct
wi' the public like you.'

The confounded fellow started to talk about the details of the