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HIS PASTIMES.

St. Amar did not spend all his time fighting visible and invisible foes. As he grew older he found his own peculiar occupations. When he was in a contentious mood he would stand by. a window and play a tattoo on the glass for hours, accompanying this with a curious, low, wing-song voice  which was horrible. 

Or again, he would amble about the room confiding in whispers to those near-by certain mysterious happenings of his childhood and the dangers he had, or had not, escaped. His aggressor at that time had been other than invisible. My mother when present at these soones would invariably mutter: "That man should have gone to prison". 

For hours at a time, attired his black overcoat, clasping a bottle of weak Paregoric, he would lie down seeking the repose he so longed for.

He liked to play cards. These games would begin in the evening and last into the early hours of the morning. Ic could never allow myself even the doubtful satisfaction of winning. Had I done so, it would have meant my brother a defeat beyond cards and the moment.