ative, and he ordered
breakfast to the extent of his resources.

Opposite him at the table sat a man of middle age, with bushy whiskers,
and a scar on his left cheek. He wore a loose sack coat, and a velvet
vest. His thick, bunchy fingers displayed two large, showy rings, set
with stones, probably imitation. He finished his breakfast before
Martin, but still retained his seat, and watched him rather attentively.
Martin was too busily engaged to notice the scrutiny to which he was
subjected. After sitting a while the stranger drew out a cigar, and,
lighting it, began to smoke.

This drew Martin's attention. As the flavor of the cigar, which was a
very good one, reached his nostrils, he began to feel a regret that he
had not reserved a part of his funds for the purchase of a cigar. His
opposite neighbor observed his look, and, for a reason which will
appear, saw fit to gratify Martin's desire.

"I don't like to smoke alone," he said, drawing another cigar from his
pocket. "Won't you have a cigar?"

"Thank you," said Martin, eagerly accepting it. "You're very kind."

"Don't mention it. So you like to smoke. Light it by mine."

"Yes," said Martin; "I like smoking; but I'm a poor man, and I can't
afford to smoke as often as I want to."

"Been unfortunate?" said the stranger, suggestively.

"Yes," said Martin, "luck's been ag'inst me. I couldn't get work to do,
and my family turned ag'inst me because I was poor. I've got two
children living on the fat of the land, but one of 'em refused me a
dollar last night, and left me to sleep in the streets."

"That's bad," said the other.

"He's an undootiful son," said Martin.

"Better luck by and by," said the stranger. "Luck'll turn, it's likely."

"I wish it would turn pretty quick," said Martin. "I've spent my last
cent for breakfast, and I don't know where I'm to get my dinner."

"The world owes every man a living," remarked the stranger,
sententiously.

"So it does," said Martin. "I don't see what's the use of bein' born at
all, if you're goin' to starve afterwards."

"Very true. Now I'll tell you what my principle is."

"What is it?" asked Martin, who was becoming interested in his
companion.

"If the world owes me a living, and isn't disposed to pay up promptly, I
think it's perfectly right for me to collect the debt any way I can."

"So do I," said Martin, though he didn't exactly see the other's drift.

"For instance, if I was starving, and my next neig