uited _me_ admirably; they were
precisely the kind of people _I_ wanted; my care, therefore, was that
they should reciprocate the want, and be utterly helpless without _me_.
Thus reflecting, I could not help saying to myself, how gladly would
I have parted with all these gauds for a homely, ay, or even a ragged,
suit of native frieze. I remembered the cock on the dunghill who would
have given his diamond for one single grain of corn; and I felt that
"AEsop" was a grand political economist.

From these and similar mental meanderings I was brought back by Joe,
who, after emptying the ashes from his pipe, said, and with a peculiarly
dry voice, "Ye 'r in a service, young man?"

Now, although the words are few, and the speaker did not intend that his
manner should have given them any particular significance, yet the tone,
the cautious slowness of the enunciation, coupled with the stern, steady
stare at my "bravery," made them tingle on my ears, and send the blood
rushing to my cheeks with shame. It was like a sharp prick of the spur;
and so it turned out.

"In a service!" said I, with a look of offended dignity. "No, I flatter
myself not that low yet. What could have made you suppose so? Oh, I see!
"--here I burst out into a very well-assumed laugh. "That is excellent,
to be sure! ha, ha, ha! so it was these"--and I stretched forth my
embroidered shins--"it was these deceived you! And a very natural
mistake, too. No, my worthy friend,--not but, indeed, I might envy many
in that same ignoble position." I said this with a sudden change of
voice, as though overcast by some sad recollection.

"'Twas indeed your dress," said Joe, with a modest deference in his
manner, meant to be a full apology for his late blunder. "Maybe 'tis the
fashion here."

"No, Cullinane," said I, using a freedom which should open the way to
our relative future standing; "no, not even that." Here I heaved a heavy
sigh, and became silent. My companion, abashed by his mistake, said
nothing; and so we sat, without interchanging a word, for full five
minutes.

"I have had a struggle with myself, Cullinane," said I, at last, "and
I have conquered. Ay, I have gained the day in a hard-fought battle
against my sense of shame. I will be frank with you, therefore. In this
dress I appeared to-night on the boards of the Quebec theatre."

"A play actor!" exclaimed Joe, with a face very far from expressing any
high sense of the histrionic art.

"Not exactly,"