Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or
withered his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its
reward. And maybe in the new world he will have the happiness
that has been denied him in the old world, and in the evening of
his life he may have the peaceful calm that has hitherto been
denied him. For this he is seeking a place in the new world
where the partner of his life and the desire of his eyes may not
find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, where the air
and his steadfast love will "do her good."

But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say
that my old friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude,
and is at liberty once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed
to beg, but I know that he prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys
anything obtained "on the cross," and cares little for the fruits
of honest labour.

Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold
communication with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his
entrance.

Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though
I know that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I
try to exhort him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop
preaching; what are you going to do to help a fellow; do you
think I live this life for fun" and his eyes twinkle! When I
tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. Yes, I am certain of
it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the worst and
cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet there is