nally been employed on odd jobs in the Pauper-Philosophy Office as a law-stationer's clerk; but old age came upon him, and his hand trembled so that he became unfit for his work. So he became a hanger-on to the office in which he had temporarily served, and picked up occasional coppers as a kind of out-door message carrier.
"Why you look out of sorts; had your dinner, Shab?" asked the clerk.
"No, sir, no—not yet."
"Thought not; you look hungry. Here's sixpence for you—no I haven't got it."
"Looks hungry," thought young John, "by Jove, he is hungry too. Here, my man," added he aloud, "here's a shilling for you, and in God's name get something to eat."
A clerk from another room burst into the office.
"What's this I hear about Jack Pounce come back again?" said the new comer. "Jack, old chap, doosid glad to see you. Why, what are you doing in a uniform?"
The answer was interrupted by an extraordinary proceeding on the part of poor old Shab.
"Jack! Young John! O God!"
And poor old Johnny Pounce fell into his son's arms.
*****
So old, so feeble, so broken, had cheery little Johnny Pounce become since he went to the bad. His rusty old suit of clothes was the cast-off of a waiter, just as he himself was the cast-off of society. He was living in a miserable attic in Tothill Fields, and his
