This loving stranger in a strange land was consumptive, racked with an awful cough, and lived like a dog—aye, worse than many dogs I know. By all theories he should not have lived a year, for in addition to his dreadfully disabling disease and his manner of living, he worked like an over-powered machine. He was never in bed after three in the morning, and I have known him to trundle a barrow containing a cartload of bedding plants from Covent Garden to Kilburn before beginning his work at six o'clock. And he was never fretful, never . The only criticism I ever heard him make was once when he told me he had employed a young Englishman to help him at a big job of work at a gentleman's garden which he was reconstructing. "He stand an' vatch me I do de vork, he vants 'is beer efery few minutes, he don't know dis and he von't know dat, an' at last I gif him his day's money an' dell 'im to go, for I can get on better vithout 'im. Dese people in dis country do not seem to know vork is!"  
And oh, my countrymen, is this not the case in a nutshell? It has got to such a pitch now, in this dear land of ours, that a feels that he confers a favour upon a workhouse by to board in it, and if it does not suit him he will instruct one of the labour members to ask a question about it in the House of Commons. Poor Emanuel couldn't understand it anyhow, and I have recorded his exact words from the gentlest of souls. However, what he said to me about others is one thing, what he said to me about myself and my unbusinesslike habits is another. But he always added "of course you are English, and do not know the need for economy such as we on the Continent have drilled into us from our earliest years. So I don't blame you. But I tell you that the day is surely coming, when you, all of you, will be reduced to doing what we have so long been obliged to do, gather the weeds of the field to stay your stomachs, and your women will have to work like ours. I am sorry, for you have been a great people, but you have been a friend of every country but your own, and your people are getting played out—no patience, no , no !" I have translated his words, but that is the sense of them, and shamefacedly I have to admit that they are scarcely exaggerated, they are nearly true.
 
Now this poor consumptive, who always looked more fit for an hospital than to be about at his work, had deep within his heart the passion of love, and very wrongly of course, in of all right reasoning, married the girl of his choice in his youth. She came from America at his bidding, and together they lived a more strenuous life than ever, producing several children, and yet such was their united energy, always getting on. They bought a large house in Maida Vale that was running to seed, and letting it out in furnished apartments, while living themselves in a basement, made it pay.
 
It was at this time that I came along with my of the loans made years before, and no memories of mine can overtop in interest those of the evening when I came and poured into the wife's lap the little heap of gold which represented his advances to me and substantial interest thereon. It happily came at a time when their affairs were under a shade, it was unexpected and so grateful. Her face was streaming as she gathered up the coins, and said to her husband in their own language, "This makes all right, beloved one, no need to worry now."
 
It was a happy evening, but over it was the shadow of death. Not many weeks after I was called to his bedside, where he lay desiring release from his sufferings, and assured that his lingerings here could only mean an additional burden on his wife, already staggering under a far too heavy load. I can never forget his parting words to me, "If I could only die. I have done with this world, I am of no[Pg 287] more use here, and why I should live on puzzles me. I will so gladly go and rest." I bade him farewell and left him, to hear the next day that he had gone to that rest which he so ardently desired.
 
Now, I might if it were desirable give a great many more instances of the delight and satisfaction I had at that time, if it were not that I feel that these pages lack so that characteristic so earnestly, so eagerly demanded to-day, humour. I have no quarrel with this demand, for I love humour, and believe that no one has a keener of it than myself. But when I look at the majority of the humorous productions of the day, I am reluctantly compelled to say that I do not see where their humour lies. I will not mention any names I see at the foot of alleged humorous articles to-day, which give me a feeling of , and I wonder how anyone can be found to read, much less buy the piffle that is printed, and that, too, in our leading magazines and newspapers. One leading exception I will make and gladly break my rule for, Mr Pett , bless him, who never makes a mistake, whose humour is sweet and true, and who, I believe from his writings, all of which I eagerly read, is as good a man as they make nowadays. As I only know this gentleman by casual meetings at dinners, I cannot be accused of log-rolling; indeed, I know how he would any effort of the kind on my part.
 
Now, in my present peregrinations in search of those to whom I was indebted, I was unable to trace two or three, the gentleman in the Adelphi from whom I had borrowed £10 at an interest of £1 per month. And so, when the business was over, and I visited my friend Mr Hardhat with the story of my efforts, he smiled grimly and said, "They'll suspend your discharge for two years, you see if they don't." I said nothing, because I did not greatly care; but I felt that if they did, it would only be on a with all that I had hitherto seen and known of the business. However we made the application for discharge in due form, presenting with it documentary evidence that all the debts had been paid, with the exception of those two or three that we could not find before m............