it be possible! was it here that I used to
wander in rags? Thank God for the rescue and for the rescuers!"

"Shine yer boots, sir?" said a facsimile of his former self.

"Certainly, my boy," said Bob, at once submitting himself to the
operator, although, his boots having already been well "shined," the
operation was an obvious absurdity.

The boy must have felt something of this, for, when finished, he looked
up at his employer with a comical expression. Bob looked at him
sternly.

"They were about as bright before you began on 'em," he said.

"They was, sir," admitted the boy, candidly.

"How much?" demanded the old street boy. "On'y one ha'penny, sir,"
replied the young street boy, "but ven the day's fine, an' the boots
don't want much shinin', we gin'rally expecs a penny. Gen'l'min _'ave_
bin known to go the length of tuppence."

Bob pulled out half-a-crown and offered it.

The boy grinned, but did not attempt to take it.

"Why don't you take it, my boy?"

"You _don't_ mean it, do you?" asked the boy, as the grin faded and the
eyes opened.

"Yes, I do. Here, catch. I was once like you. Christ and Canada have
made me what you see. Here is a little book that will tell you more
about that."

He chanced to have one of Miss Macpherson's _Canadian Homes for London
Wanderers_ in his pocket, and gave it to the little shoe-black,--who was
one of the fluttering free-lances of the metropolis, not one of the
"Brigade."

Bob could not have said another word to have saved his life. He turned
quickly on his heel and walked away, followed by a fixed gaze and a
prolonged whistle of astonishment.

"How hungry I used to be here," he muttered as he walked along, "so
uncommon hungry! The smell of roasts and pies had something to do with
it, I think. Why, there's the shop--yes, the very shop, where I stood
once gazing at the victuals for a full hour before I could tear myself
away. I do think that, for the sake of starving boys, to say nothing of
men, women, and girls, these grub-shops should be compelled to keep the
victuals out o' the windows and send their enticing smells up their
chimneys!"

Presently he came to a dead stop in front of a shop where a large mirror
presented him with a full-length portrait of himself, and again he said
mentally, "Can it be possible!" for, since quitting London he had never
seen himself as others saw him, having been too hurried, on both
occasions of passing through Canad