Ah! my brothers, we forget that we are not impartial judges; that the world is impartial and may be just in its conclusions. How kindly we think of ourselves! In the person who readily agrees with us, what noble qualities of soul and mind we discover. But 'tis well, for conceit, foolish as it may seem, often saves us from despair. Yes, Leo Bergin had talent, education, good looks, and industry; but Leo Bergin, I had concluded from the occasion referred to, was erratic, "a shingle short"--in fact, not "all there." "But, Leo," said I, "where are you bound?" "To h----," said he, in phrase quite jocular, in tones almost bitterly sad. "Ah!" said I, "pack your kit then and step off at old Cadiz, for that is on the border." But the bugle blew for lunch, and the association of ideas drove Leo Bergin to his cabin, and, with a sickly promise to "come later," I was left to ponder over the strange events of life--events that often lead to such meetings; the meetings, in turn, to lead to other events, even more strange and interesting. A FRIEND IN NEED. Well, my reader, while Leo Bergin is below, striving to compromise with his digestion, I will relate to you some of his peculiarities, that you may be prepared for his wonderful recital. It was January 10th, 1898, as he entered my room on Great Russell Street, just opposite the British Museum, London, that I first saw him. He knocked at my door, gently; he entered my room, quietly; he sat down familiarly, and he opened the interview, promptly. I will not say Leo Bergin, on this occasion, was not modest; I will say he did not hesitate. Had Leo Bergin remained silent I would have known that he was out of money, out of luck, out of friends, and almost out at the knees and elbows. But he evidently doubted my powers of perception, for, with superfluous frankness and eloquent volubility, he informed me that he only wanted a "loan" for a short time until he could "get on his feet." These stories were very common. They had been very "taking" with me, but desiring to avoid occupying a like position I had grown impatient and crusty, possibly a little hard-hearted, so I looked squarely into his fine eyes, and asked him "to get on his feet" at once. He arose, looked me in the face, not with defiance or humiliation, not with shame or impudence, but like a man. He said, "I am down." That was evident, but the soft saying of this had always cost me heavily, and, softening again, I asked who he was and what he could do. He said, "I am an American; I was born in Virginia, lived in California, have done newspaper work in New Zealand, and as a journalist I am in London--and down." I weakened. The man who had been born in Virginia, lived in California, and done newspaper work in New Zealand, could not be wholly depraved, for the very air of these three favored spots would preserve some semblance of virtue. "I surrender," said I; "express your most fervent wish and it shall be granted."