ity, by reason of its unobtrusiveness, would have obtruded itself so persistently upon you as at first to give offense. You would hastily havesuspected him of a habit of vainglory in it—of getting under your feet, like some of those beggars in India, simply to call your attention upon him. You would have noticed that the dogs (and what mongrel curs they are!) took their way leisurely from under his wheels, knowing that he would stop and risk your displeasure rather than run them down. You would come, after a while, nevertheless, to understand that the back bent toward you had other burdens than you to bear—weightier ones. Then you would pity the back. You would respect the humility,—perhaps because there was no whine in it,—and your words to him would take on the emphasis of hope and cheer—as if it were these he needed. And if you had not been a little afraid you would probably have patted him on his bent back and told him to brace up—or something like that—in the cheerful American fashion. And though he would have said nothing and looked little, your words would have comforted him, and you would somehow know this and be glad you had uttered them. For he had a child's simplicity, and would believe
