able committees.
Contributions to enable the Rev. Paul Classon to redeem his clothes, his
watch, his divinity library, to send him to England, to the Andes, to
Africa, figured everywhere. I dare not say how often he had been rescued
out of the lowest pit of despondency, or snatched like a brand from the
burning; in fact, he lived in a pit, and was always on fire.

"I am delighted," said Davis, as he replenished his friend's plate,--"I
am delighted to see that you have the same good, hearty appetite as of
old, Paul."

"Ay, Kit," said he, with a gentle sigh, "the appetite has been more
faithful than the dinner; on the same principle, perhaps, that the last
people who desert us are our creditors!"

"I suspect you 've had rather a hard time of it," said Davis,
compassionately.

"Well, not much to complain of,--not anything that one would call
hardships," said Classon, as he pushed his plate from him and proceeded
to light a cigar; "we 're all stragglers, Kit, that's the fact of it."

"I suppose it is; but it ain't very disagreeable to be a straggler with
ten thousand a year."

"If the having and enjoying were always centred in the same individual,"
said Classon, slowly, "what you say would be unanswerable; but it's not
so, Kit. No, no; the fellows who really enjoy life never have anything.
They are, so to say, guests on a visit to this earth, come to pass a few
months pleasantly, to put up anywhere, and be content with everything."
Grog shook his head dissentingly, and the other went on, "Who knows the
truth of what I am saying better than either of us? How many broad acres
did your father or mine bequeath us? What debentures, railroad shares,
mining scrip, or mortgages? And yet, Kit, if we come to make up the
score of pleasant days and glorious nights, do you fancy that any
noble lord of them all would dispute the palm with us? Oh," said he,
rapturously, "give _me_ the unearned enjoyments of life,--pleasures that
have never cost me a thought to provide, nor a sixpence to pay for! Pass
the wine, Kit,--that bottle is better than the other;" and be smacked
his lips, while his eyes closed in a sort of dreamy rapture.

"I 'd like to hear something of your life, Paul," said Davis. "I often
saw your name in the 'Times' and the 'Post,' but I 'd like to have your
own account of it."

"My dear Kit, I 've had fifty lives. It's the man you should
understand,--the fellow that is here;" and he slapped his broad chest
as he spo