"I have," I answered. "The man you saw today sweeping the streets was none other than myself, and I am proud of it." "You are either joking or else you have gone out of your mind," said Mrs. Snipe with a look of disgust. But upon my reiteration that I was really the man she saw, both she and her daughters abruptly left my presence and never looked at me afterwards. They no doubt communicated the text of our conversation to the different people of the hotel, also, for I discovered later that the other guests with whom I had become acquainted, not only refused to converse with me, but regarded me as a sort of curiosity or peculiar freak of nature. They would pass me on the street, where I was working at different times, in their gorgeous carriages, and, calling each other's attention would pass jokes at my expense, and laugh loud and mockingly at me. At first these things troubled me to some degree, but gradually I gathered courage to bear their sneers-courage such as I had never experienced before. I had faced all manner of dangers during my life without fear, but I had never known the real meaning of courage until I made up my mind to do right under all conditions, and accept the ridicule of my fellow beings without resentment. In my humble position I could now appreciate the philosophy and the true greatness of the Sagewoman's beautiful lessons of unselfishness. I felt that I was just beginning to get strong-strong in the grandest attribute a human being can possess-moral courage. The great Sagewoman's teachings on forbearance were beginning to take root in my nature. I was learning to understand that I must work and feel for others, regardless of my own selfish desires.