Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.

'What more have you to say? he gasps. 'You will want property equally divided-'

'No, sir, indeed,' interrupts Saul Fielding, daring to feel indignant, even in the presence of so rich a man, at the suggestion. 'The man who makes honestly for himself is entitled to possess and enjoy. I am no socialist.'

'You would, at all events,' pursues Mr. Million, 'feed the working man with a silver spoon? – You would open the places of amusement for him on the Sabbath?'

'I would open some places and shut others.'

'What places, now?'

'The museums, the public galleries. I would give him every chance-he has a right to it-to elevate himself during the only leisure he has.'

'And in this way,' demands Mr. Million severely, 'you would desecrate the Sabbath!'

For the life of him Saul Fielding cannot help saying,

'A greater desecration than even that can be in your eyes takes place on the Sabbath in places that are open in the name of the law.'

'You refer to-'

'Public-houses. If they are allowed to be open, what reasonable argument can be brought against the opening of places the good influence of which is universally acknowledged? It is the withholding of these just privileges that causes much discontent and ill-feeling.'

This is quite enough for Mr. Million. This man, ragged, penniless, has the effrontery to tell the rich brewer to his face that he would have the public picture-galleries and museums of art opened on the Sabbath-day, and that he would shut the public-houses. Mr. Million can find no words to express his indignation. He can only say, stiffly and coldly,

'I have heard quite enough of your opinions, sir. Come to the point of your visit. You see'-pointing to the papers scattered about the table-'that I am very busy.'

'I came, sir,' he says sadly, 'in the hope that, seeing my distress, you would not have been disinclined to assist me-not with money, sir,' he adds swiftly, in answer to an impatient look of dissent from Mr. Million, 'but with your good word. But I am afraid that I have injured my cause by the expression of my opinions.'

'In what way did you expect that I could aid you?' asks Mr. Million carelessly, as he settles himself to his papers.

'I have been especially unfortunate in my career, sir. As I told you, I am willing to work, but am unable to obtain it. If I could emigrate; if I could get into a new country, where labour is scarce, things might be better for me.'

The poor man is helpless at the rich man's foot; and the rich man plays with him, as a cat with a mouse.

'Well,' he says, 'emigrate. The country would be well rid of such as you.'

Saul Fielding takes no notice of the insult. He is not to be turned aside from his purpose, although he knows full well that he has missed his mark.

'I have no means, sir; I am poor and helpless.'

'How do you propose to effect your object, then?'

'There are Government emigrant ships which take men out, I have heard, for very little-for nothing almost. A line of recommendation from you would be sufficiently powerful, I thought, to obtain me a passage.'

'Doubtless, doubtless,' this with a smile; 'but you are a man of some perception, and having observed how utterly I disagree with your opinions-which I consider abominable and mischievous to the last degree-you can hardly expect me to give you the recommendation you ask for. May I ask, as you are a perfect stranger to me, for I have no recollection of you in any way, to what I am indebted for the honour you have done me by choosing me to give you a good character?'

'You are a public man, sir, and I have heard a friend to the working man. And as you had helped a friend of mine to emigrate by giving him a free passage in a ship that sails this week-'

'Stop, stop, if you please. I help a friend of yours to emigrate by giving him a free passage! I think you are mistaken.'

'If you say so, sir, I must be. But this is what George Naldret gave me to understand.'

'And pray who is George Naldret?' demands Mr. Million haughtily; 'and what are his reasons for emigrating?'

'George Naldret,' returns Saul Fielding, in perplexity, 'is almost the only friend I have in the world, and he is emigrating for the purpose of putting himself into a position to marry more quickly than his prospects here will allow him.'

'As you are introducing me,' says Mr. Million, with an air of supreme indifference, 'to your friends, perhaps you would like also to introduce me to the young lady-for of course' (with a sneer) 'she is a young lady-he desires to marry.'

'Her name is Sparrow-Bessie Sparrow, granddaughter to an old grocer.'

Mr. Million becomes suddenly interested, and pushes his papers aside with an exclamation of anger.

'What name did you say?'

'Miss Bessie Sparrow.'

The rich brewer ponders for a moment, evidently in no pleasant mood. Then suddenly rings a bell. A servant appears.

'Is my son in the house?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Tell him to come to me instantly.'

Saul Fielding waits gravely. Seemingly, he also has found new food for contemplation. Presently young Mr. Million appears.

'You sent for me, sir.'

'Yes, James. Do you know this person?' with a slight wave of the hand in the direction of Saul Fielding, as towards a thing of no consequence. Saul Fielding knows that his mission has failed, but does not resent this contemptuous reference to him. He stands, humble and watchful, before father and son.

'I have seen him,' says young Mr. Million, 'and I should say he is not a desirable person in this house.'

'My opinion exactly. Yet, influenced by some cock-and-a-bull story, he comes here soliciting my assistance to enable him to emigrate. The country would be well rid of him, I am sure; but of course it is out of my power to give such a person a good character to the emigration commissioners.'

'Out of anybody's power, I should say,' assents young Mr. Million gaily. 'To what cock-and-a-bull story do you refer?'

'He tells me-which is news to me-that I have given a free passage ticket to a friend of his, George-George-what did you say?'

'George Naldret, sir.' Saul Fielding supplies the name in a manner perfectly respectful.

'Ay-George Naldret. Such a statement is in itself, of course, a falsehood. Even if I knew George Naldret, which I do not, and desired to assist him, which I do not, the fact of his being engaged to be married to any one of the name of Sparrow-a name which means disgrace in our firm, as you are aware-would be sufficient for me not to do so.'

Young Mr. Million steals a look at Saul Fielding, whose face, however, is a mask; and in a hesitating voice says: 'I think I can explain the matter; but it is not necessary for this person to remain. You do not know, perhaps, that he was the chief mover in a strike a few years ago, which threatened to do much mischief.'

'I am not surprised to hear it,' says the rich brewer; 'the opinions he has expressed have prepared me for some such statement concerning him. He would desecrate the Sabbath-day by opening museums and picture-galleries, and he would curtail the liberty of the subject by closing public-houses, and depriving the working man of his beer! Monstrous! monstrous! He has nothing to say for himself, I suppose.'

'No, sir,' answers Saul Fielding, raising his head, and looking steadily at young Mr. Million, 'except that I believed in the truth of what I told you, and that I don't know whether I am sorry or glad that I made the application to you.'

The rich brewer has already touched the bell, and the servant comes into the room.