good from the point of view of humanity, and the brotherhood of art."
His delicacy was equal to his kindness. One day he found an old friend who was in needy circumstances, and bore him off to dinner. As they parted the host said casually:
"Thou knowest, old comrade—I expect thee here again to-morrow."
The friend came again—and for ten or twelve years dined with Dumas. At last, overcome with remorse at eating the bread he did not earn, the guest declared that he must make some return for his dinners, or he would not come again. Dumas thought a moment.
"You can do me a great service," he said at length. "Go to the Pont Neuf every day at noon, and note the temperature of the Chevalier thermometer for me. That is very important, in connection with the receipts at the theatre. Will you oblige me?" The friend agreed delightedly, and situation was saved." Both men were happy once more.
On another occasion a man entered the "master's" room, begging. Dumas, without waiting to hear of his particular need, drew fifteen francs from a drawer. It appeared that the caller was collecting to raise funds to bury a huissier (or sheriff's officer.)
"To bury a huissier!" cried Dumas, who knew
