ou very much," said he, "and I will continue to speak in figures,
and call myself a bishop."

"Where I was brought up," interpolated Phil Matlack, still standing behind
Mr. Archibald, "I was taught that figures don't lie."

"My good sir," said the speaker, with a smile, "in mathematics they don't,
in poetry and literature they often do. Well, as I was saying, my
diocese extended itself, my revenues were satisfactory, and I had
begun to believe that I had found my true work in life, when suddenly
there was a misfortune. There arrived in our town three apostles of
kindergartening--two of them were women, and one was a man. They had heard
of my system, and had come to investigate it. They did so, with the
result that in an astonishingly short time my diocese was inundated with a
flood of Froebelism which absolutely swept me away. With this bag,
this umbrella, and this costume, which has now become my wardrobe, I
was cast out in all my indefiniteness upon a definite world."

"And how did you get here?" asked Mrs. Archibald.

"I had heard of Sadler and his camps," said he; "and in this beautiful
month and in this beautiful weather I thought it would be well to
investigate them. I accordingly went to Mr. Sadler's, where I arrived
yesterday afternoon. I found Mr. Sadler a very definite man, and, I am
sorry to say, that as he immediately defined me as a tramp, he would
listen to no other definition. 'You have no money to pay for food and
lodgings,' said he, 'and you come under my tramp laws. I don't harbor
tramps, but I don't kick them out into the woods to starve. For labor on
this place I pay one dollar and a half a day of ten hours. For meals to
day-laborers I charge fifteen cents each. If you want your supper, you can
go out to that wood-shed and split wood for one hour.' I was very hungry;
I went out into the wood-shed; I split wood for one hour, and at the end
of that time I had a sufficient meal. When I had finished, Mr. Sadler sent
for me. 'Do you want to stay here all night?' he said. 'I do,' I answered.
'Go, then, and split wood for another hour.' I did so, and it was almost
dark when I had finished. In the morning I split wood for my breakfast,
and when I had finished I went to Mr. Sadler and asked him how much he
would charge for a luncheon wrapped in a piece of paper. 'Seven and a half
cents,' he said. I split wood for half an hour, and left Sadler's
ostensibly to return to the station by the way I had come; but