beggar, "else what would become of
that?"

He nodded down the valley, where tall spires pointed toward the blue
and taller chimneys veiled it with black. The huddled city seemed to
move and strain and quiver under the dusky curtain, and the fumes of
its toil hung over it like steam from a sweating horse.

"It is a sad sight," said the fourth beggar, waving his hand with the
gesture of an orator. "Shakespeare was right when he said, 'God made
the country and man made the town.' Admit for the present that cities
are necessary evils. The time is coming when every man must have his
country-place. Meanwhile let us cultivate the rural virtues."

He smacked his lips and lifted the flagon.

"Right," said the first beggar, "a toast! To the simple life!"

So the four quaffed a cupful of wine--and I a puff of smoke--to the
simple life.

In the bush was a bird, very busy catching flies. He perched on a
branch, darted into the air, caught his fly, and fluttered to another
branch. Between flies he chirped and twittered cheerfully.

"Beautiful bird," said the first beggar, leaning back, "a model of
cheerful industry! What do they call him?"

"A warbler," said I, "because he has so little voice."

"He might sing better," observed the second beggar, "if he did not
work so hard catching flies."

But the fourth beggar sighed and wiped the corner of his left eye, for
he was a tender-hearted man on one side.

"I am thinking," said he, "of the poor flies!"

"Bet you a hundred to ten he doesn't catch the next one," said the
third beggar.

"Done," cried the others, but before the stakes were counted out, the
bird had flown.

"Tell me, sirs," I began, when they had stripped the gilded bands from
their cigars and lighted them, "what it is that makes you all so
innocently merry and contented in this troublous world?"

"It is a professional secret," said the first beggar. "If we tell it,
you will give it away."

"Never," I answered. "I only want to put it into a poem."

The beggars looked at one another and laughed heartily. "That will do
no harm," said they, "our secret will be safe there."

"Well, then," said the first beggar gravely, "it is religion. We
approve the conduct of Providence. It must be all right. The Lord is
on our side. It would be wicked to ask why. We practise the grace of
resignation, and find peace."

"No," said the second beggar smiling, "religion is an old wives' tale.
It is philosophy that makes us