Hampstead-Heath Donkey and what he
thought of his Customers" might be taken as a sample, but there was
just as vigorous clapping when he produced his "Sackmaker's Dream," and
this he now sang. Miriam was much affected by it, and dwelt upon it as
the three--the singer, Andrew, and herself--walked home to their
lodgings whither Mr. Montgomery had been invited to supper.

"Did you write the Sackmaker's Dream yourself?" she asked, as they went
along.

"Yes; just by way of a change. It does not pay to sing nothing but
comic stuff."

"It is very pathetic. Is it true?"

"Oh, I don't quite know. Founded on fact, as they say, dressed up a
bit by the author," and Mr. Montgomery laughed.

"But how did you ever hear of such a thing?"

"Oh, I've heard a good many strange things since I've been knocking
about town."

"Then you had some particular person in your eye when you were
composing it?"

"Yes, partly, but not much of her," and Mr. Montgomery laughed again.

"How much?"

"How inquisitive you are. Well, to tell you the truth, no more than
this, that one night I saw one of these women coming out of a sack
factory. She looked awfully wretched, and I made up all the rest."

Miriam was much astonished. She was actually in company with an
author, and with one who could invent scenes, descriptions, and
characters like those in the novels of which she was now so fond. Mr.
Montgomery was a marvel to her. He, too, was somewhat struck with
Miriam; with her beauty, and with a certain freshness in her
observations; but a man who had lived as he had lived in London is not
likely to admire any woman with much fervour, and indeed the incapacity
for genuine admiration of women is one of the strongest arguments
against such a life.

They had their supper, and after supper some whisky was produced, and
Andrew and Montgomery smoked.

"Talking about sackmakers," said Montgomery, "I can tell you a true
story of one, quite true, every word of it. I knew a fellow who had
been awfully wild when he was young, but he was converted, as they call
it, and turned city missionary. He came to know in this way one of
these sackmaking women. She was above the usual run, well-behaved, and
very good-looking. He fell desperately in love with her, and she with
him, but he always thought she held back a little. At last she told
him she had lived with a man, and that he had left her. The missionary
said he did not care, and would marry