foil and cardboard,--except, I say, the thing itself,
of which you respect even so poor a symbol,--nothing left to sell or to
pawn but Honour! For these I have pleaded this night as a showman; for
these, less haughty than the Frenchman, I stretch my hands towards you
without shame; for these I am a beggar."

He was silent. The dog quietly took up the hat and approached the Mayor
again. The Mayor extracted the half-crown he had previously deposited,
and dropped into the hat two golden sovereigns. Who does not guess
the rest? All crowded forward,--youth and age, man and woman. And most
ardent of all were those whose life stands most close to vicissitude,
most exposed to beggary, most sorely tried in the alternative between
bread and honour. Not an operative there but spared his mite.

CHAPTER XIII.

Omne ignotum pro magnifico.--Rumour, knowing nothing of his
antecedents, exalts Gentleman Waife into Don Magnifico.

The Comedian and his two coadjutors were followed to the Saracen's Head
inn by a large crowd, but at respectful distance. Though I know few
things less pleasing than to have been decoyed and entrapped into an
unexpected demand upon one's purse,--when one only counted, too, upon
an agreeable evening,--and hold, therefore, in just abhorrence the
circulating plate which sometimes follows a public oration, homily, or
other eloquent appeal to British liberality; yet, I will venture to say,
there was not a creature whom the Comedian had surprised into impulsive
beneficence who regretted his action, grudged its cost, or thought he
had paid too dear for his entertainment. All had gone through a series
of such pleasurable emotions that all had, as it were, wished a vent for
their gratitude; and when the vent was found, it became an additional
pleasure. But, strange to say, no one could satisfactorily explain to
himself these two questions,--for what, and to whom had he given his
money? It was not a general conjecture that the exhibitor wanted the
money for his own uses. No; despite the evidence in favour of that idea,
a person so respectable, so dignified, addressing them, too, with that
noble assurance to which a man who begs for himself is not morally
entitled,--a person thus characterized must be some high-hearted
philanthropist who condescended to display his powers at an Institute
purely intellectual, perhaps on behalf of an eminent but decayed author,
whose name, from the respect due to letters, was