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and to spend every hour he could spare from his practice at one or other of the exhibitions； having three…pen'orths one after the other。 I have known a book…reviewer give oranges （not poisoned ones） to children。 A man is not a character； he is a dozen characters； one of them prominent； the other eleven more or less undeveloped。 I knew a man once； two of whose characters were of equal value； and the consequences were peculiar。〃
We begged him to relate the case to us； and he did so。
〃He was a Balliol man；〃 said MacShaughnassy； 〃and his Christian name was Joseph。 He was a member of the 'Devonshire' at the time I knew him； and was； I think； the most superior person I have ever met。 He sneered at the Saturday Review as the pet journal of the suburban literary club； and at the Athenaeum as the trade organ of the unsuccessful writer。 Thackeray； he considered； was fairly entitled to his position of favourite author to the cultured clerk； and Carlyle he regarded as the exponent of the earnest artisan。 Living authors he never read； but this did not prevent his criticising them contemptuously。 The only inhabitants of the nineteenth century that he ever praised were a few obscure French novelists； of whom nobody but himself had ever heard。 He had his own opinion about God Almighty； and objected to Heaven on account of the strong Clapham contingent likely to be found in residence there。 Humour made him sad； and sentiment made him ill。 Art irritated him and science bored him。 He despised his own family and disliked everybody else。 For exercise he yawned； and his conversation was mainly confined to an occasional shrug。
〃Nobody liked him； but everybody respected him。 One felt grateful to him for his condescension in living at all。
〃One summer； I was fishing over the Norfolk Broads； and on the Bank Holiday； thinking I would like to see the London 'Arry in his glory； I ran over to Yarmouth。 Walking along the sea…front in the evening； I suddenly found myself confronted by four remarkably choice specimens of the class。 They were urging on their wild and erratic career arm…in…arm。 The one nearest the road was playing an unusually wheezy concertina； and the other three were bawling out the chorus of a music…hall song； the heroine of which appeared to be 'Hemmer。'
They spread themselves right across the pavement； compelling all the women and children they met to step into the roadway。 I stood my ground on the kerb； and as they brushed by me something in the face of the one with the concertina struck me as familiar。
〃I turned and followed them。 They were evidently enjoying themselves immensely。 To every girl they passed they yelled out； 'Oh； you little jam tart！' and every old lady they addressed as 'Mar。' The noisiest and the most vulgar of the four was the one with the concertina。
〃I followed them on to the pier； and then； hurrying past； waited for them under a gas…lamp。 When the man with the concertina came into the light and I saw him clearly I started。 From the face I could have sworn it was Joseph； but everything else about him rendered such an assumption impossible。 Putting aside the time and the place； and forgetting his behaviour； his companions； and his instrument； what remained was sufficient to make the suggestion absurd。 Joseph was always clean shaven； this youth had a smudgy moustache and a pair of incipient red whiskers。 He was dressed in the loudest check suit I have ever seen； off the stage。 He wore patent…leather boots with mother…of…pearl buttons； and a necktie that in an earlier age would have called down lightning out of Heaven。 He had a low…crowned billycock hat on his head； and a big evil…smelling cigar between his lips。
〃Argue as I would； however； the face was the face of Joseph； and； moved by a curiosity I could not control； I kept near him； watching him。
〃Once； for a little while； I missed him； but there was not much fear of losing that suit for long； and after a little looking about I struck it again。 He was sitting at the end of the pier； where it was less crowded； with his arm round a girl's waist。 I crept close。 She was a jolly； red…faced girl； good…looking enough； but common to the last degree。 Her hat lay on the seat beside her； and her head was resting on his shoulder。 She appeared to be fond of him； but he was evidently bored。
〃'Don'tcher like me； Joe？' I heard her murmur。
〃'Yas；' he replied； somewhat unconvincingly； 'o' course I likes yer。'
〃She gave him an affectionate slap； but he did not respond； and a few minutes afterwards； muttering some excuse； he rose and left her； and I followed him as he made his way towards the refreshment…room。 At the door he met one of his pals。
〃'Hullo！' was the question； 'wot 'a yer done wi' 'Liza？'
〃'Oh； I carn't stand 'er；' was his reply； 'she gives me the bloomin' 'ump。 You 'ave a turn with 'er。'
〃His friend disappeared in the direction of 'Liza； and Joe pushed into the room； I keeping close behind him。 Now that he was alone I was determined to speak to him。 The longer I had studied his features the more resemblance I had found in them to those of my superior friend Joseph。
〃He was leaning across the bar； clamouring for two of gin； when I tapped him on the shoulder。 He turned his head； and the moment he saw me； his face went livid。
〃'Mr。 Joseph Smythe； I believe；' I said with a smile。
〃'Who's Mr。 Joseph Smythe？' he answered hoarsely； 'my name's Smith； I ain't no bloomin' Smythe。 Who are you？ I don't know yer。'
〃As he spoke； my eyes rested upon a curious gold ring of Indian workmanship which he wore upon his left hand。 There was no mistaking the ring； at all events： it had been passed round the club on more than one occasion as a unique curiosity。 His eyes followed my gaze。 He burst into tears； and pushing me before him into a quiet corner of the saloon； sat down facing me。
〃'Don't give me away； old man；' he whimpered； 'for Gawd's sake； don't let on to any of the chaps 'ere that I'm a member of that blessed old waxwork show in Saint James's： they'd never speak to me agen。 And keep yer mug shut about Oxford； there's a good sort。 I wouldn't 'ave 'em know as 'ow I was one o' them college blokes for anythink。'
〃I sat aghast。 I had listened to hear him entreat me to keep 'Smith；' the rorty 'Arry； a secret from the acquaintances of 'Smythe；' the superior person。 Here was 'Smith' in mortal terror lest his pals should hear of his identity with the aristocratic 'Smythe；' and discard him。 His attitude puzzled me at the time； but； when I came to reflect； my wonder was at myself for having expected the opposite。
〃'I carn't 'elp it；' he went on； 'I 'ave to live two lives。 'Arf my time I'm a stuck…up prig； as orter be jolly well kicked'
〃'At which times；' I interrupted； 'I have heard you express some extremely uncomplimentary opinions concerning 'Arries。'
〃'I know；' he replied； in a voice betraying strong emotion； 'that's where it's so precious rough on me。 When I'm a toff I despises myself； 'cos I knows that underneath my sneering phiz I'm a bloomin' 'Arry。 When I'm an 'Arry； I 'ates myself 'cos I knows I'm a toff。'
〃'Can't you decide which character you prefer； and stick to it？' I asked。
〃'No；' he answered； 'I carn't。 It's a rum thing； but whichever I am； sure as fate； 'bout the end of a month I begin to get sick o' myself。'
〃'I can quite understand it；' I murmured； 'I should give way myself in a fortnight。'
〃'I've been myself； now；' he continued； without noticing my remark； 'for somethin' like ten days。 One mornin'； in 'bout three weeks' time； I shall get up in my diggins in the Mile End Road； and I shall look round the room； and at these clothes 'angin' over the bed； and at this yer concertina' （he gave it an affectionate squeeze）； 'and I shall feel myself gettin' scarlet all over。 Then I shall jump out o' bed； and look at myself in the glass。 〃You howling little cad；〃 I shall say to myself； 〃I have half a mind to strangle you〃； and I shall shave myself； and put on a quiet blue serge suit and a bowler 'at； tell my landlady to keep my rooms for me till I comes back； slip out o' the 'ouse； and into the fust 'ansom I meets； and back to the Halbany。 And a month arter that； I shall come into my chambers at the Halbany； fling Voltaire and Parini into the fire； shy me 'at at the bust of good old 'Omer； slip on my blue suit agen； and back to the Mile End Road。'
〃'How do you explain your absence to both parties？' I asked。
〃'Oh； that's simple enough；' he replied。 'I just tells my 'ousekeeper at the Halbany as I'm goin' on the Continong； and my mates 'ere thinks I'm a traveller。'
〃'Nobody misses me much；' he added； pathetically； 'I hain't a partic'larly fetchin' sort o' bloke； either of me。 I'm sich an out… and…outer。 When I'm an 'Arry； I'm too much of an 'Arry； and when I'm a prig； I'm a reg'lar fust prize prig。 Seems to me as if I was two ends of a man without any middle。 If I could only mix myself up a bit more； I'd be all right。'
〃He sniffed once or twice； and then he laughed。 'Ah； well；' he said； casting aside his momentary gloom； 'it's all a game； and wot's the odds so long as yer 'appy。 'Ave a wet？'
〃I declined the wet； and left him playing sentimenta