'No Nobleness of soul have I, Like some that in this Age are found!' (Paul blushed in sheer humility, And cast his eyes upon the ground) 'This debt will simply swallow all, And make my life a life of woe!' 'Nay, nay, nay Peter!' answered Paul. 'You must not rail on Fortune so! 'You have enough to eat and drink: You are respected in the world: And at the barber's, as I think, You often get your whiskers curled. Though Nobleness you ca'n't attain To any very great extent-- The path of Honesty is plain, However inconvenient!' “Tis true, 'said Peter,' I'm alive: I keep my station in the world: Once in the week I just contrive To get my whiskers oiled and curled. But my assets are very low: My little income's overspent: To trench on capital, you know, Is always inconvenient!' 'But pay your debts!' cried honest Paul. 'My gentle Peter, pay your debts! What matter if it swallows all That you describe as your “assets”? Already you're an hour behind: Yet Generosity is best. It pinches me--but never mind! I WILL NOT CHARGE YOU INTEREST!' 'How good! How great!' poor Peter cried. 'Yet I must sell my Sunday wig-- The scarf-pin that has been my pride-- My grand piano--and my pig!' Full soon his property took wings: And daily, as each treasure went, He sighed to find the state of things Grow less and less convenient. Weeks grew to months, and months to years: Peter was worn to skin and bone: And once he even said, with tears, 'Remember, Paul, that promised Loan!' Said Paul' I'll lend you, when I can, All the spare money I have got-- Ah, Peter, you're a happy man! Yours is an enviable lot! {Image...Such boots as these you seldom see} 'I'm getting stout, as you may see: It is but seldom I am well: I cannot feel my ancient glee In listening to the dinner-bell: But you, you gambol like a boy, Your figure is so spare and light: The dinner-bell's a note of joy To such a healthy appetite!' Said Peter 'I am well aware Mine is a state of happiness: And yet how gladly could I spare Some of the comforts I possess! What you call healthy appetite I feel as Hunger's savage tooth: And, when no dinner is in sight, The dinner-bell's a sound of ruth! 'No scare-crow would accept this coat: Such boots as these you seldom see. Ah, Paul, a single five-pound-note Would make another man of me!' Said Paul 'It fills me with surprise To hear you talk in such a tone: I fear you scarcely realise The blessings that are all your own!