"THEY WERE ACTUALLY STUCK AGAINST THE PERPENDICULAR WALL OF ROCK."
BIRDS' NESTS FOR SOUP.
BY RALPH WATSON.
One pleasant morning in the early part of last April I had just landed in Macao. Having no idea that I was acquainted with any person in Asia, you can imagine that I was not a little surprised to hear an exultant shout burst forth behind me, and the familiar old college cry. "Rah! rah! rah! Y—a—l—e! 26 South College, or there is no faith in the blue! Well, Well, if this isn't glorious!"
With the first sound a hand came down vigorously on my shoulder, swinging me around in a way that reminded me of past experiences, and lo! Jack Merriman had hold of me in earnest.
"What a splendid fellow you have grown to be, Tom!—six feet, if you are an inch. Look at me—five feet six; never could amount to anything, you know."
"But how come you here, Jack? What are you doing?"
"In tea, my boy, in tea. And not a bad thing, now, tea is, when you take it in the right way. But for yourself—whence and whither bound?"