a kind-hearted Jewish gentleman, Bamberger by name, promised to supply two everyday meals, and to let the boy sleep in an attic in his house. That was three dinners a week provided for, and on the remaining four days, by dint of economy and imagination, he supplied himself with quite a series of satisfying meals. He would earn a trifle by doing copying work, then he would buy a big loaf, and notch the bread at once into divisions, so much, or rather so little, for each dinner and each breakfast, so as to prevent the possibility of his appetite, and means of satisfying it, outrunning his purse. It often resulted in a close race. Poverty and poor feeding, however, were fortunately no new experiences to him. Still, poverty encountered all by himself in a great city full of strangers, was a harder thing than poverty as his kind loving mother had let him feel it. But he met it bravely and uncomplainingly, and, best of all, with unfailing good humour. He never took a kindness as his due, nor thought that his talents gave him a right to claim toll from his richer brethren. ‘Because I want to drink at the well,’ he would say, in his pretty poetic fashion, ‘am I to expect every one to hurry to fill my cup from his pitcher? No; I must draw the water for myself, or else I must go thirsty.’ And in this way he preserved his self-respect, and those who had the great pleasure of helping him, received, in the boy’s cheerful, grateful use of his opportunities, quite as much benefit as they gave.