fellow-feeling! You 're a poor devil; I'm a poor devil too."
"I'm the poorer devil of the two," said the stranger, with a little emphatic nod of the head.
"Possibly. I suppose an English poor devil is the poorest of all poor devils. And then, you have fallen from a height. From Wadham College as a gentleman commoner (is that what they called you?) to Wadham College as a Bath-chair man! Good heavens, man, the fall's enough to kill you!"
"I did n't take it all at once, sir. I dropped a bit one time and a bit another."
"That's me, that's me!" cried Searle, clapping his hands.
"And now," said our friend, "I believe I can't drop further."
"My dear fellow," and Searle clasped his hand and shook it, "there's a perfect similarity in our lot."
Mr. Rawson lifted his eyebrows. "Save for the difference of sitting in a Bath-chair and walking behind it!"
"O, I'm at my last gasp, Mr. Rawson."
"I'm at my last penny, sir."
"Literally, Mr. Rawson?"
Mr. Rawson shook his head, with a world of vague bitterness. "I have almost come to the point," he
