against his forehead and say, 'May God forgive you!'"

"O Gran," says Jemmy with a full heart, "I am not worthy!" But he leaned
down and did it. Then the faltering fingers made out to catch hold of my
sleeve at last, and I believe he was a-trying to kiss me when he died.

* * * * *

There my dear! There you have the story of my Legacy in full, and it's
worth ten times the trouble I have spent upon it if you are pleased to
like it.

You might suppose that it set us against the little French town of Sens,
but no we didn't find that. I found myself that I never looked up at the
high tower atop of the other tower, but the days came back again when
that fair young creetur with her pretty bright hair trusted in me like a
mother, and the recollection made the place so peaceful to me as I can't
express. And every soul about the hotel down to the pigeons in the
courtyard made friends with Jemmy and the Major, and went lumbering away
with them on all sorts of expeditions in all sorts of vehicles drawn by
rampagious cart-horses,--with heads and without,--mud for paint and ropes
for harness,--and every new friend dressed in blue like a butcher, and
every new horse standing on his hind legs wanting to devour and consume
every other horse, and every man that had a whip to crack crack-crack-
crack-crack-cracking it as if it was a schoolboy with his first. As to
the Major my dear that man lived the greater part of his time with a
little tumbler in one hand and a bottle of small wine in the other, and
whenever he saw anybody else with a little tumbler, no matter who it
was,--the military character with the tags, or the inn-servants at their
supper in the courtyard, or townspeople a chatting on a bench, or country