"So am I, young man," returned the other, no way disconcerted;
indeed, he seemed a person whose frank temper nothing could
disconcert. "But starvation is--excuse me,--unpleasant; and
necessity has no law. It is of vital consequence that I should reach
Coltham to-night; and after walking twenty miles one cannot easily
walk ten more, and afterwards appear as Macbeth to an admiring
audience."

"You are an actor?"

"I am, please your worship--

'A poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is seen no more.'"

There was inexpressible pathos in his tone, and his fine face looked
thin and worn--it did not take much to soften both John's feelings
and mine towards the "poor player." Besides, we had lately been
studying Shakspeare, who for the first time of reading generally
sends all young people tragedy-mad.

"You acted well to-day," said John; "all the folk here took you for a
methodist preacher."

"Yet I never meddled with theology--only common morality. You cannot
say I did."

John thought a moment, and then answered--