Fifty yards farther down the road we came upon an old man sitting on the fence, smoking a pipe. He wore a tattered old brown felt hat and overalls, and his long gray hair and beard were tangled and unkempt. I passed the time of day and he answered me civilly enough, although vacantly; and I saw that his eye had the red film of the drunkard. When I asked him for Quirk, the schoolmaster, who used to live thereabout he gave a mirthless chuckle. "My name's Quirk," said he; "but it's fifteen years since I taught school. How did you come to know of me?" Could this be Quirk--this aged and decrepit old man! Somewhere beneath that mat of hair and beard, did there remain traces of those good-natured lineaments that were wont to set the boys in a roar? I scanned his face closely. The man was a stranger to my recollection. "Do you remember me, Mr. Quirk?" I asked. He peered out at me under his bushy brows and slowly removed his pipe. "Not to my knowledge," he answered. "What might be your name?" "Quibble," I returned--"Artemas Quibble." "Artemas Quibble!" he exclaimed in a faltering voice and feebly crawled over to the buggy. I climbed down to meet him and extended my hand. "What has happened to you?" he stammered. "I thought you were a great lawyer in New York." "I'm in a peck of trouble," I answered. "I need all the friends I've got. I hope you're still one of them?" "Well, well!" he muttered. "And to think that you're Artie Quibble! And who may this be?" pointing to Hawkins. "I'll tell you all," said I, "later on. For the present, he's a friend of mine who's travelling with me--more on business than on pleasure." Quirk's story was soon told. As I already expected, drink had become his master. The school had fallen away, his wife had died, and in a fit of despondency he had--he said accidentally, but I believe intentionally--overturned a lamp and set fire to the house. Now he lodged in a small hotel farther down the road, living from hand to mouth, and doing a day's work here and there when chance offered. I gave him fifty dollars and bade him good-bye, for he had no accommodations to offer us even had I been able to induce Hawkins to remain there. Thus I realized that the only refuge I ever had from the outside world, the only real home I had ever known, was gone. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to deposit my evil load.