Men of Muscle, and the Highland Games of Scotland, etc.

MEN OF MUSCLE. unfortunately, did not improve, and after his arrival in Melbourne, where Dinnie settled, he became much worse. Fleming's chief ailment was asthma and a shortness of breath. Often during, the night, Dinnie tells us, poor Jemmy had to get up gasping and put his head out of the window in an endeavour to get more air. During his hours of semi-suffo. cation he almost wished for the knock of the grim spectre with the scythe. Yet he complained not, but always made light of his troubles, and now he has none. The closing scene in Fleming's career is fraught with interest. He was sitting at the fire in his room when Dinnie came up to see him. His head drooped as he gazed into the glowing embers and his feet were cold. Mrs. Dinnie had rolled hot cloths about his feet and legs but the coldness was still there. "I doubt you're worse to-night, J em," said Dinnie, in his usual blunt though kindly manner. "Yes," said Fleming, "I feel much worse, Donald." His head, which he had raised for a moment to reply, sank still lower on his chest, and Dinnie sprang towards him and took him in his arms, intending to lift him into bed ; but the spirit had fled, and the piece of clay which Dinnie and his wife tried to warm was but the shell of the once bold and manly Jemmy Fleming. This last scene of all was enacted at Northcot, in the suburbs of Melbourne, on March 10, 1887. Both as an athlete and as a man, Fleming was much respected, and his loss was deeply mourned. He regularly wore the kilt when travelling or at games, and was a conspicuous figure wherever he went. In appearance Fleming was distinguished, standing 5ft. nin., and weighing, in condition, 14st. 8lb. to rolb. He had copied the manners and speech of the gentlemen at the Castle-with whom he had been a prime favourite-so successfully that not even the keenest observer could have detected any trace of the yokel, but would unhesitatingly