at indeed. My good friend, there are _no_ exceptions.
Meet me to-night, or say to-morrow, as I am to be drunk to-night; go to
the beer-house at the end of my street, and I'll show you something."

Just then the Ramper came up and hailed the Gentleman. "Here you old
swine! Are you sober enough to scratch off a letter?"

"I'm all right."

"Well, then, write to the usual, and tell him to put me on half-a-quid
Sunshine, and half-a-quid Dartmoor a shop--s.p. both."

Thus our conversation was stopped, and the brother of a judge earned
twopence by writing a letter for a racecourse thief.

Next night I went to a very shady public-house, and the Gentleman led me
into a dirty room, where a little old man was sitting alone. The man was
crooked, wizened, weak, and his bare toes stuck out of both shoes; his
half-rotten frock coat gaped at the breast and showed that he had no
shirt on; his hat must have been picked up from a dustheap, for it was
filthy, and broken in three or four places.

"For mercy's sake, give me a mouthful of something!" said this object,
turning the face of a mummy towards me. His dim eyes were rheumy, and
his chin trembled. An awful sight!

In a flash I remembered him, and cried, "What, Doctor!"

He said, "I don't know you; my memory's gone. Send for twopenn'orth or a
penn'orth of beer. Pray do."

My young friends, that man who begged for a pennyworth of muddy ale was
first of all a brilliant soldier, then a brilliant lawyer, then a
brilliant historian. His doctor's degree--he was Doctor of Laws--was
gained by fair hard work. Think of that, and then look at my picture of
the sodden, filthy scarecrow! Yes; that man began my education, and had
I only gone straight on I should not be loafing about The Chequers. You
ask how he could have anything to do with my education? Well, long ago I
was a little bookworm, living in a lonely country house, and I had the
run of some good shelves. I was only nine years old, but a huge history
in two volumes attracted me most. I read and read that book until I
could repeat whole pages easily, and even now I can go off at score if
you give me a start.

The Scarecrow wrote that history!

Years afterwards I was fighting my way in London, and had charge of a
journal which made a name in its day. Sometimes I had to deal with a
message from a Minister of State, sometimes with a petition from a
starving penny-a-liner. One day a little man was shown into my room,
which room w