y be sure that our solitary struggle is watched by
invisible spectators, and that, after the baying of the beasts, we
shall hear the angels sing.

VIII

DICK SUNSHINE

Dick Sunshine was not his real name; at least so they said. But the
thing that they called his real name did not describe him a scrap; it
seemed to abandon all attempt at description as hopelessly impossible;
but when you called him Dick Sunshine it fitted him like a glove. That
is the immense advantage that nicknames possess over real names. Of
all real things, real names are the most unreal. There is no life in
them. They stand for nothing; they express nothing; they reveal
nothing. They bear no kind of relationship to the unfortunate
individuals who are sentenced to wear them, like meaningless badges,
for the term of their natural lives. But nicknames, on the other hand,
sparkle and flash; they bring the man himself vividly and palpitatingly
before you; and without more introduction or ado, you know him at once
for what he is. That is the reason why we prefer to be called by our
real names. We know in our secret souls that our nicknames are our
true names, and that our real names are mere tags and badges; but we
prefer the meaningless tag to the too candid truth. There are obvious
disadvantages in being constantly spoken of as Mr. Grump, Mrs.
Crosspatch, or Miss Spitfire; whereas Mr. Smith, Mrs. Robinson, or Miss
Jones are much safer and more non-committal. But, for all that, the
nicknames, depend upon it, are the true names. Nicknames reveal the
man; real names conceal the man. And since, in the case of my present
hero, I desire to reveal everything and to conceal nothing, it is
obviously desirable to speak of him by his nickname, which is his true
name, rather than by his real name, which is a mere affectation and
artificiality. He was always Dick Sunshine to me, and I noticed that
the children always called him Dick Sunshine, and children are not
easily deceived. Besides, he _was_ Dick Sunshine, so what is the use
of beating about the bush?

Who was Dick Sunshine? It is difficult to say. He was partly a grocer
and party a consumptive. He spent half his time laughing, and half his
time coughing. He only stopped laughing in order to cough; and he only
stopped coughing in order to laugh. You could always tell which he was
doing at any particular time by taking a glance at the shop. If the
shop was open, you knew that Dic