“Seek your fortune!” he repeated, with a slighting sort of laugh. “One used to read about fellows doing that in story books when a child, but it's rather strange to hear of it nowadays.” “And may I presume to ask why should it be more strange now than formerly? Is not the world pretty much what it used to be? Is not the drama of life the same stock piece our forefathers played ages ago? Are not the actors and the actresses made up of the precise materials their ancestors were? Can you tell me of a new sentiment, a new emotion, or even a new crime? Why, therefore, should there be a seeming incongruity in reviving any feature of the past?” “Just because it won't do, my good friend,” said he, bluntly. “If the law catches a fellow lounging about the world in these times, it takes him up for a vagabond.” “And what can be finer, grander, or freer than a vagabond?” I cried, with enthusiasm. “Who, I would ask you, sees life with such philosophy? Who views the wiles, the snares, the petty conflicts of the world with such a reflective calm as his? Caring little for personal indulgence, not solicitous for self-gratification, he has both the spirit and the leisure for observation. Diogenes was the type of the vagabond, and see how successive ages have acknowledged his wisdom.” “If I had lived in _his_ day, I'd have set him picking oakum, for all that!” he replied. “And probably, too, would have sent the 'blind old bard to the crank,'” said I. “I'm not quite sure of whom you are talking,” said he; “but if he was a good ballad-singer, I'd not be hard on him.” “O! Menin aeide Thea Peleiadeo Achilleos!” spouted I out, in rapture. “That ain't high Dutch,” asked he, “is it?” “No,” said I, proudly. “It is ancient Greek,--the godlike tongue of an immortal race.” “Immortal rascals!” he broke in. “I was in the fruit trade up in the Levant there, and such scoundrels as these Greek fellows I never met in my life.” “By what and whom made so?” I exclaimed eagerly. “Can you point to a people in the world who have so long resisted the barbarizing influence of a base oppression? Was there ever a nation so imbued with high civilization as to be enabled for centuries of slavery to preserve the traditions of its greatness? Have we the record of any race but this, who could rise from the slough of degradation to the dignity of a people?” “You 've been a play-actor, I take it?” asked he, dryly. “No, sir, never!” replied I, with some indignation. “Well, then, in the Methody line? You've done a stroke of preaching, I 'll be sworn.” “You would be perjured in that case, sir,” I rejoined, as haughtily. “At all events, an auctioneer,” said he, fairly puzzled in his speculations. “Equally mistaken there,” said I, calmly; “bred in the midst of abundance, nurtured in affluence, and educated with all the solicitous care that a fond parent could bestow--” “Gammon!” said he, bluntly. “You are one of the swell mob in distress!”