"
"On the principle, I suppose, of 'Set a thief to catch a thief,'" said
Montagu, with a smile.
"Yes; but he exemplifies the truth 'chassez le naturel, il revient au
galop' for he was charged with abetting a street fight between two boys,
which very nearly ended fatally. However, he was penitent, and Graham
got him off with wonderful cleverness."
"Ah!" said Montagu, sighing, "there was _one_ who would have been the
pride of Roslyn had he lived Poor, poor Eric!"
We talked long of our loved friend; his bright face, his winning words,
his merry smile, came back to us with the memory of his melancholy fate,
and a deep sadness fell over us.
"Poor boy, he is at peace now," said Montagu; and he told me once more
the sorrowful particulars of his death. "Shall I read you some verses?"
he asked, "which he must have composed, poor fellow, on board the
'Stormy Petrel,' though he probably wrote them at Fairholm afterwards."
"Yes, do."
And Montagu, in his pleasant musical voice, read me, with much feeling,
these lines, written in Eric's boyish hand, and signed with his name.
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