She was never
tired of listening to his stories, and his quaint
remarks and comments were a continual delight to her.
Captain Jim was one of those rare and interesting
people who "never speak but they say something." The
milk of human kindness and the wisdom of the serpent
were mingled in his composition in delightful
proportions.
Nothing ever seemed to put Captain Jim out or depress
him in any way.
"I've kind of contracted a habit of enj'ying things,"
he remarked once, when Anne had commented on his
invariable cheerfulness. "It's got so chronic that I
believe I even enj'y the disagreeable things. It's
great fun thinking they can't last. `Old rheumatiz,'
says I, when it grips me hard, `you've GOT to stop
aching sometime. The worse you are the sooner you'll
stop, mebbe. I'm bound to get the better of you in the
long run, whether in the body or out of the body.'"
One night, by the fireside at the light Anne saw
Captain Jim's "life-book." He needed no coaxing to
show it and proudly gave it to her to read.
"I writ it to leave to little Joe," he said.
Pages:
179
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