How the beggars shouted when he got up to speak! He could hear them now.

How they believed in him! Young Tyson was a splendid fellow; he could do anything he chose--knock you off a leading article or lead a forlorn hope.

In time he began to be rather proud of his origin; it showed up his pluck, his grit, the stuff he was made of.

He owed everything to himself.
And that last year when he let himself go altogether--there again his origin told.

He had flung himself into dissipation in the spirit of dissent.