amed David Grayson I tried desperately to set up and
support a sort of dummy creature which, so clad, so housed, so fed,
should appear to be what I thought David Grayson ought to appear in the
eyes of the world. Oh, I spent quite a lifetime trying to satisfy other
people!

Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading "Huckleberry Finn,"
while I sent my trousers out to be mended.

Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat served
well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a hole in his
finest hat.

And I--the man within--I escaped, and have been out freely upon the
great adventure of life.

If a shabby coat (and I speak here also symbolically, not forgetful of
spiritual significances) lets you into the adventurous world of
those who are poor it does not on the other hand rob you of any true
friendship among those who are rich or mighty. I say true friendship,
for unless a man who is rich and mighty is able to see through my shabby
coat (as I see through his fine one), I shall gain nothing by knowing
him.

I've permitted myself all this digression--left myself walking alone
there in the streets of Kilburn while I philosophized upon the ways
and means of life--not without design, for I could have had no such
experiences as I did have in Kilburn if I had worn a better coat or
carried upon me the evidences of security in life.

I think I have already remarked upon the extraordinary enlivenment of
wits which comes to the man who has been without a meal or so and does
not know when or where he is again to break his fast. Try it, friend and
see! It was already getting along in the evening, and I knew or supposed
I knew no one in Kilburn save only Bill Hahn, Socialist who was little
better off than I was.

In this emergency my mind began to work swiftly. A score of fascinating
plans for getting my supper and a bed to sleep in flashed through my
mind.

"Why," said I, "when I come to think of it, I'm comparatively rich. I'll
warrant there are plenty of places in Kilburn, and good ones, too, where
I could barter a chapter of Montaigne and a little good conversation
for a first-rate supper, and I've no doubt that I could whistle up a bed
almost anywhere!"

I thought of a little motto I often repeat to myself:

TO KNOW LIFE, BEGIN ANYWHERE!

There were several people on the streets of Kilburn that night who don't
know yet how very near they were to being boarded by a somewhat shab