Cinder Path Tales

2 CINDER-PATH TALES and partly to gratify old friends who have heard me tell them over a quiet pipe, bya winter's fire, or in a far corner of the gym­ nasium ona rainy day. I can surely interest all who have ever donned arunning-shoe, or heard the crunch of a cinder-path under their feet. I hope, too, for many a reader whose bright eyes have watched brother, lover,or friend win or lose under theopen sky. It was late in the winter of 186- that I arrived in Boston, having bade farewell to Old England for good and all. I confess the separation was not entirely of my own choosing, that I left under a cloud I do not care to lift, that I had sinned the sins of youth and repented of them. Nothing more shall I say; but one thing I can never quiteforget, — back in old Lanca­ shire wasI a gentleman born and bred. When I landed, less than fifty dollars had I in my pocket; but that didnot fret me, for I had been assured an Englishman of good birth and breeding had but to pick and choose in the "States." All my money and most of my conceit were gone when I met Arthur Hacking a month later. I had first stopped at a good hotel, and offered my services at genteel occupations, such as banking and school-teaching. But