mericks?"




XXXV

The Supper


I had been thinking all day of my strange companions of the past,
both in America and England, and that accounted for my dream at
night. In that dream I had invited them all to a grand supper, for
I was now leading a different life. I was seated at the end of the
table, which was full of fine things, and Brum, of America--the
greatest beggar I had ever met--was seated at my right hand. After
making them a short speech, in which I commended them on their way
of living, and expressed deep regret that I had ever been cheated to
follow Fame, who had led me into a treacherous swamp in which I stood
up to the knees, with little power to either return or advance--after
making this short speech, I invited them to help themselves, and to
receive my undying friendship.

They then began to assist themselves with a hearty goodwill, all
except Brum, who, to my surprise and confusion, sat motionless,
glancing with scorn at his companions. "There," said he, with deep
disgust; "do you call these men good beggars? See the way they
rush at the food, as though they had starved themselves all day in
anticipation of this meal." Saying this, he began slowly to feel
the lining of his coat, and, after much trouble, took out a greasy
paper parcel, placed it on his knees and began to make room for it
on the table. This being done, he spread the contents before him and
began to eat in a very slow and indifferent manner. As for myself, I
could not eat for joy, to see all these dear faces before me, and sat
smiling at one and another, laughing and sighing in turns. Sometimes
I closed my eyes, and opened them again on my companions, endeared to
me by a past that had few cares and worries.

By a strange coincidence, Irish Tim of London was paired with
Oaklahoma Sam of America. Now the latter was a man of very few words,
and he always had in hand a long dangerous-looking knife, with which
he trimmed his nails, whittled sticks, or threw at cracks in the
door, flies, or any other object that caught his eye. But he