“As far as I can recollect, I never met you in my life before; though I may have done so in some hospital, where in many years I have treated many transient patients. Was it there I made your acquaintance?” inquired the doctor. “No, I was never in a hospital since I was born, and I was never a patient of yours, doctor—though, indeed, I believe you were the very first to introduce me to my nearest relations and friends on the occasion of my first appearance in this world, some thirty-five years ago,” said the tramp, with a gleam of that native, irrepressible humor which years of servitude and sorrow had not been able to extinguish. The doctor looked at him long and seriously, and then said: “I am responsible for many such introductions, my friend; though I cannot be expected to remember the faces of all to whom I officiated as gentleman usher. But you appear to be in need. Tell me how I can best help you and I will do so willingly.” “I am no invalid and no beggar, Dr. Willet! I ask only for recognition. I can command everything else,” said the tatterdemalion, drawing himself up with dignity. “Lord bless my soul alive!” exclaimed the astonished and bewildered doctor, as he put on his spectacles and looked again at this _strange_ stranger, who looked like a gypsy and talked like a king. The tramp bore the scrutiny well. “Come nearer the light, sir,” he said, moving toward the open, sunny back door. “Can’t you tell me who you are at once, man? Only mention your name, and if I ever heard if before it will bring you to my memory,” said Dr. Willet, as he followed him. “No, sir; I must not name myself to you. I wish _you_ to do that first. I wish to test your memory and prove my own identity. Come, sir, I will stand facing the open door. You will please place yourself in the most favorable position and examine my features under the full light of the sun.” “Lord bless my soul alive, what does it all mean?” again exclaimed Dr. Willet, as he planted himself within two feet of the stranger, adjusted his glasses and stared at him. “Now, sir, be kind enough to look in my eyes, for they change least of all. And while you do so, I may prompt your memory a little——” “I am perplexed, but not in despair,” murmured the doctor to himself. “You knew me from infancy to manhood. Then you lost sight of me,” continued the tramp. “Lord—have——” slowly began the doctor, but the words died on his lips as he stared with reviving recollection of the speaker. “I am the son of one of the oldest and dearest of your friends——” “Mercy on——” “Missing for many years——” “Our souls!” “Falsely supposed to have been lost at sea——” “YOU ARE LONNY BRUCE!” cried the doctor, reeling back as if he had been shot. “Yes, I am Lonny Bruce! Now don’t _you_ go and faint—that’s a good fellow! Brace up!” exclaimed the tramp, with half a laugh.