“Is that your brother, Mr. Melville?” asked the latter, as Herbert came forward and spoke¹ to Melville.

“No, Colonel, he is my young friend and confidential² clerk, Herbert Carr.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Carr,” said the colonel, affably, extending his hand as he spoke.

“This is Col. Warner, Herbert,” explained George Melville.

Herbert, who was naturally polite, shook hands with the colonel, and said he was glad to make his acquaintance.

“I have been talking with Mr. Melville,” said the colonel. “I am sorry to hear that he is traveling in search of health.”

“Yes, sir; I hope he will find his journey beneficial.”

“Oh, not a doubt of it! Not a doubt of it! I've been there myself. Do you know, when I was twenty-five, which I take to be about the age of your employer, I thought I should die of consumption?”

“I shouldn't have supposed it, sir,” said Herbert, and Melville, too, felt surprised, as he noticed the stalwart proportions of the former consumptive.

“Ha! ha! I dare say not,” said the colonel, laughing. “I don't look much like it now, eh?”

“No, you certainly don't, colonel,” said Melville. “I am curious to know how you overcame the threatened danger.”

“I did what you are doing, sir; I came West.”

“But the mere³ coming West did not cure you, did it?”

“No, sir; it was the life I lived,” returned Col. Varner. “I didn't stay in the cities; I went into the wilderness⁴. I lived in a log-cabin. I bought a horse, and rode every day. I kept in the open air, and, after a while, I found my strength returning and my chest expanding, and in a twelvemonth I could afford to laugh at doctors.”

“And you have never had a return of the old symptoms?” asked Melville, with interest.

“Never, except four years afterwards, when I went to New York and remained nearly a year. I am now fifty, and rather hale and

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