jumped over board, and endured every vicissitude of fortune that can befall a watch, and still it kept its excellent undeviating accuracy and became as much a part of H. H.'s apparel as his coat itself; nor would he have changed it for any other watch in the world.
Mr Wanamaker and H. H. spent a delightful day at Canterbury, meeting old friends on one side, and making new ones on the other. Just near the Cathedral H. H. stopped to introduce to Mr Wanamaker a young man who was striding along. Mr Wanamaker, as is well known, has a great gift of engaging every one he meets in interesting talk the first moment of acquaintance. The young man found himself describing Canterbury and its industries to a most sympathetic listener. The talk turned on the large breweries in the city. Mr Wanamaker, who is a great temperance advocate, asked his companion:
"Tell me, do you drink?"
"No, I am a teetotaller," replied the young man.
"Shake," said Mr Wanamaker, suiting the action to the words.
"And does your father drink?" "No, he is also a teetotaller."
Again the hand of fellowship was extended.
"And what is your father's profession?" "Archbishop of Canterbury," replied young Mr Temple modestly.
The hearty infectious laugh that rang out from Mr Wanamaker made the passers-by turn round.
Linking his arm through H. H.'s, Mr Wanamaker said:
"Why, this is enough to get you unseated—why didn't you tell me your friend was the son of your Archbishop?"
