e an English poor devil's the poorest of all
poor devils. And then you've fallen from a height. From a gentleman
commoner--is that what they called you?--to a propeller of Bath-chairs.
Good heavens, man, the fall's enough to kill you!"

"I didn't take it all at once, sir. I dropped a bit one time and a bit
another."

"That's me, that's me!" cried Searle with all his seriousness.

"And now," said our friend, "I believe I can't drop any further."

"My dear fellow"--and Searle clasped his hand and shook it--"I too am at
the very bottom of the hole."

Mr. Rawson lifted his eyebrows. "Well, sir, there's a difference between
sitting in such a pleasant convenience and just trudging behind it!"

"Yes--there's a shade. But I'm at my last gasp, Mr. Rawson."

"I'm at my last penny, sir."

"Literally, Mr. Rawson?"

Mr. Rawson shook his head with large loose bitterness. "I've almost come
to the point of drinking my beer and buttoning my coat figuratively; but
I don't talk in figures."

Fearing the conversation might appear to achieve something like gaiety
at the expense of Mr. Rawson's troubles, I took the liberty of asking
him, with all consideration, how he made a living.

"I don't make a living," he answered with tearful eyes; "I can't make
a living. I've a wife and three children--and all starving, sir. You
wouldn't believe what I've come to. I sent my wife to her mother's, who
can ill afford to keep her, and came to Oxford a week ago, thinking I
might pick up a few half-crowns by showing people about the colleges.
But it's no use. I haven't the assurance. I don't look decent. They
want a nice little old man with black gloves and a clean shirt and a
silver-headed stick. What do I look as if I knew about Oxford, sir?"

"Mercy on us," cried Searle, "why didn't you speak to us before?"

"I wanted to; half a dozen times I've been on the point of it. I knew
you were Americans."

"And Americans are rich!" cried Searle, laughing. "My dear Mr. Rawson,
American as I am I'm living on charity."

"And I'm exactly not, sir! There it is. I'm dying for the lack of that
same. You say you're a pauper, but it takes an American pauper to go
bowling about in a Bath-chair. America's an easy country."

"Ah me!" groaned Searle. "Have I come to the most delicious corner of
the ancient world to hear the praise of Yankeeland?"

"Delicious corners are very well, and so is the ancient world," said Mr.
Rawson; "but one may sit here hungr