the lady began to suspect him of being an undeserving rogue; so
he sold the furniture and took a tour through Wales. This success
almost ruined him, for, after being kept so long, he found it very
hard to start business again.

"America," I said to him, "is good all the year round; but it is only
during revivals that this country is of much account to a beggar."
"Hang the revivals," cried my Uncle T----; "for when they are over it
is hard to get a crust of dry bread."

It was at this stage of the conversation that I related to him an
experience of mine, which happened a few weeks before. I was in the
act of washing an old shirt, not having enough money to buy a new
one, and I was not rich enough to hire a washerwoman, when a knock
came to the door, which I thought must be the midday post. I dried my
hands, and, sure enough, it was the postman, who handed me a small
dainty letter. I opened this letter at once, and the first words that
caught my eyes were--"Most Distinguished Sir," and then went on to
make a request for my autograph. The lady also enclosed a list of
fifty or sixty names of those who had obliged her, beginning with the
head of the State. That, I said to my Uncle T----, is what they call
fame in England. Now let us compare it to begging in America. If I
had been in that country, I could have begged a clean shirt in less
time than it took to wash one, and no person there would have offered
me such a ragged one.

Again, as a beggar in America I have sat down to meals consisting of
turkey, sweet potatoes, mince pie, and bananas; but as a famous man
in England----"I know," interrupted my Uncle T----, whose intentions
had been to beg me, and whose hopes now vanished--"I know," said
he, "you have to put up with anything; but why? Why don't you
return to begging?" Not getting an answer to this, my Uncle T----
looked considerably perplexed for the time, but at last his face
brightened, and he said: "Well, lad, if you are determined on the
writing business, why don't you, in the name of goodness, go in for
li