ial. He was too well provided
for, too easily clever and in too many ways, to achieve renown in any
field requiring serious labor.

He inhaled the salt air as it came in from the sea, took out his watch,
scanned the wharf, picked a thread from his sleeve, and twirled,
somewhat carefully, the ends of a yellow moustache. His glance moved
indifferently over various passengers and things about him until it
rested on a man, not far away. The man was leaning against the railing
of the deck watching the scene upon the wharf below.

The extreme attenuation of this person had already rendered him an
object of interest to several passengers. His clothing hung loosely from
his shoulders. Both coat and vest were far too roomy for the body
beneath, while the trousers bore no relation to his legs. But the
emaciated face, deeply browned by exposure, told a story of hardship and
starvation rather than of ordinary sickness. Two thin, dark hands that
rested on the ship's rail seemed almost transparent.

The aristocratic gentleman regarded this person with increasing
interest. He approached the railing himself and furtively studied the
stranger's profile. Then, with an expression in his face less blase than
heretofore, he approached the man and stood behind him. Laying a hand on
one of the shoulders to prevent his victim turning, he said:

"I beg your pardon, sir, but could you tell me the name of this town?"

There was a short silence. Then the stranger answered, in a serious
tone, and with no effort to see his questioner:

"This is Boston, the city of respectability--and other delights."

"Yes?"

"It is also the home of a man who doesn't seem to have matured with the
passing years."

"Well, who is that man?"

"A fellow that might have been a famous tenor if he had a voice--and
some idea of music."

The other man laughed, removed his hand, and his friend turned about.
Then followed a greeting as between old intimates, long separated. And
such was the mutual pleasure that a neighboring spectator, many years
embittered by dyspepsia, so far forgot himself as to allow a smile of
sympathy to occupy his face.

The countenance of the attenuated person was unusual; not from any
peculiarity of feature, but from its invincible cheerfulness. This
cheerfulness was constitutional, and contagious. His face seemed nearly
ten years younger than it was; for the unquenchable good-humor having
settled there in infancy had thwarted the hand o