w much his companion knew, and felt a
passing bitterness that he, though older, had seen none of these things.

"Ever been in Chicago?" asked Perkins; "but of course you have n't."
This was uttered in such a tone of conviction that the minister thought
his greenness must be very apparent.

"I 've never been around much of anywhere," he said. "I 've been hard at
work all my life."

"Eh, that so? You don't look like you 'd done much hard work. What do
you do?"

"I--I--ah--write," was the confused answer.

Perkins, fortunately, did not notice the confusion. "Oh, ho!" he said:
"do you go in for newspaper work?"

"No, not for newspapers."

"Oh, you 're an author, a regular out-and-outer. Well, don't you know, I
thought you were somehow different from most fellows I 've met. I never
could see how you authors could stay away in small towns, where you
hardly ever see any one, and write about people as you do; but I suppose
you get your people from books."

"No, not entirely," replied Brent, letting the mistake go. "There are
plenty of interesting characters in a small town. Its life is just what
the life of a larger city is, only the scale is smaller."

"Well, if you 're on a search for characters, you 'll see some to-night
that 'll be worth putting in your note-book. We 'll stop here first."

The place before which they had stopped was surrounded by a high
vine-covered lattice fence: over the entrance flamed forth in letters
set with gas-lights the words "Meyer's Beer-Garden and Variety Hall.
Welcome." He could hear the sound of music within,--a miserable
orchestra, and a woman singing in a high strident voice. People were
passing in and out of the place. He hesitated, and then, shaking
himself, as if to shake off his scruples, turned towards the entrance.
As he reached the door, a man who was standing beside it thrust a paper
into his hand. He saw others refuse to take it as they passed. It was
only the announcement of a temperance meeting at a neighbouring hall. He
raised his eyes to find the gaze of the man riveted upon him.

"Don't you go in there, young man," he said. "You don't look like you
was used to this life. Come away. Remember, it 's the first step--"

"Chuck him," said Perkins's voice at his elbow. But something in the
man's face held him. A happy thought struck him. He turned to his
companion and said, in a low voice, "I think I 've found a character
here already. Will you excuse me for a while?"