NUMBER ONE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WAY OP THE WORLD 
 
 BY 
 
 FKANK FOSTEK 
 
 LONDON: 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. 
 
 STATIONERS' HALL COVET. 
 1862. 
 
London : 
 •wabren hall and co., steam printers, camden town. n.w. 
 
PKEFACE 
 
 A> r old author may sometimes experience less 
 difficulty in illustrating a subject than in finding 
 a suitable subject for illustration. With regard to 
 the present unpretending work — probably the last 
 that will ever proceed from the same pen — the 
 conception of the offspring involved a much 
 longer period than that which has been employed 
 in clothing it. 
 
 One day — after a long season of repose — when 
 the author was quietly turning over the pages 
 of his own diary, the following question suddenly 
 presented itself to the mind of the writer : — 
 " Where shall I find a subject, founded on fact, 
 with a greater variety of incident than is here 
 recorded, or where look for a more eventful life 
 than that of the recorder ? " The answer was — 
 "I know not." Hereupon, a private discussion 
 arose between self and ditto. Self had no desire 
 
 qqfi 
 
IV PREFACE, 
 
 to give undue prominence to his own figure. Not 
 one of the fifteen volumes he had already given 
 to the world had been disfigured by a portrait 
 of NUMBER OXE. Although in his humble 
 capacity as a literary laborer, he had been accus- 
 tomed to the use of the modest yet mighty symbol 
 of power to be found in the editorial te we/ 3 the 
 great and superlative " I " had never been pushed 
 beyond the title page of his own works. Let 
 others decide whether time, situation, and circum- 
 stance have justified the departure from this rule. 
 
 The reader has only to be informed, before 
 proceeding on his journey, that the ground work 
 of the following pages may be regarded as fact. 
 Those pages reveal many of the writer's errors in 
 the WAY OF THE "WORLD— wo* all. Should 
 the present feeble reflection of such errors prove 
 a light by which some brother traveller or tra- 
 vellers may avoid similar mistakes in life, the 
 simple knowledge of that fact will in itself amply 
 
 reward 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Apkil, 18G2. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 INTRODUCTORY. page 
 
 The Boy, Frank, at Home 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Frank an Orphan 9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The English Metropolis— Desire of youth in that direction— Early start on 
 
 the journey of life 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Honest John — Frank in London— Good advice tendered but not accepted 20 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 London — Pleasure and pain— Hope and disappointment 47 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 Try again— Early trials caused by early imprudence— Perseverance finally 
 
 cro-wned by success 71 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 Frank's first appearance on the stage of commerce— Advantages of being 
 
 friendless — Disadvantages of being befriended 11.5 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 Desire for change of occupation — Want of education — "Way to supply the 
 
 deficiency 155 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Increasing desire for change of life— Authors and authorship— Sporting 
 
 companions— Dangers of ill-judged association 169 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Early favors forgotten or unrequited in the season of success— A little 
 
 legacy— Death of Honest John „ 197 
 
VI CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. pagk 
 
 Fate of first volume of poems— Effect occasioned by the report of a " little 
 
 legacy "—Disagreeable surprise— Love where least expected 231 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Change of scene— New commercial house— A short life and a merry one- 
 Asocial picture — Apolitical squib 263 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The traveller— A few years on the road— First Sunday in a commercial 
 
 room — Close of a commercial life 295 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Change of scene and change of occupation— Who'd be an author ?— Voyage 
 
 to Australia— A desirable passenger 321 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Arrival in Melbourne— Making money— Intention of making more money 
 - —Voyage home 347 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Melbourne again— Losing money— New Zealand— Singular gift— Return 
 
 voyage 375 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Home again— A real friend— Another stage of life— Success of entertain- 
 ment and failure of health 397 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Blessings of affliction— A worthy pastor— Literary success— Royal patron- 
 age— Charity— now a little book did not sell— How a great book did 
 sell— Greater experience in the WAY OF THE WORLD 409 
 
CJajter i 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 FRANK AT HOME. 
 
 Oxe max ix his time plats maxy VA.RTS."~-Shakspeare. 
 
ff That's a promising son of yours/' said a noble 
 candidate for senatorial honors to a gentleman whose 
 political opinions happened to accord with those of 
 the speaker. 
 
 " If the hopeful promises of youth were ever sure 
 of fulfilment, my lord, " 
 
 11 In the present case/' continued the lordly 
 flatterer, interrupting the respondent and secretly 
 conveying a guinea to the hand of his son, "let us 
 not cloud the prospect with a conjunction. There's 
 no if in the subject, is there, Frank ? " 
 
 Prank blushed a reply or an acknowledgement, or 
 both, but said nothing. 
 
 His lordship again turned to the parent. 
 
 " As chairman of our committee, you might pos- 
 sibly receive a few useful hints from my private 
 secretary. What say you? Will you see him pre- 
 vious to the next meeting of your friends ? " 
 
 " At any time or in any way I can aid the good 
 cause, I shall ever be found at your lordship's 
 service." 
 
 " And I at yours. Good morning." 
 
 The foregoing fragment has been preserved and 
 still vividly floats on the mind of the writer. It is a 
 
4 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 small portion, but the only portion, of a conversation 
 I remember to have taken place at my father's house 
 in the early part of the present century. Beyond 
 this the event appears like a confused dream. I go 
 back to a mass of matter, but see nothing distinctly. 
 I have a faint recollection of having answered certain 
 mathematical questions, or having done or said some- 
 thing to the satisfaction of the noble visitor, without, 
 in the exhumation, being able to distinguish more 
 clearly what that something was. Yet, in the fore- 
 ground of the picture, one prominent object presents 
 itself to prove the reality of things almost lost in 
 the distance. "Whatever might have been the per- 
 formance in question, arid however imperfect the 
 execution and remembrance thereof, the good old 
 guinea I received at the close still shines so brightly 
 on the memory that the apparition seems to revive 
 and actually to impart a taste of the heartfelt joy 
 created by its first impression. As a guinea was the 
 founder of that impression, the simple fact is favor- 
 able to the belief that our love of gold is strong not 
 only at maturity but even in the spring of life. 
 
 Of the two immediate causes — the parent's politi- 
 cal capital, or the son's solution of certain questions 
 — it matters little now which had the greater weight 
 with the would-be M.P. when he called me " a 
 promising boy." Boy, however, I was, wanting but 
 a few weeks to complete thirteen years of health and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 5 
 
 happiness. Happy in the innocent pleasures and 
 pastimes of youth and youthful companions, I envied 
 not the more refined or artificial amusements of man, 
 while I shared not his cares and responsibilities. In 
 my native town — a small and remote English 
 borough — my father was the proprietor of a house 
 of long standing. That he was himself a man of 
 local reputation may be imagined from the fact of 
 his having been chairman of a committee of gentle- 
 men who were instrumental in placing at the head 
 of the poll the noble lord who was at that time 
 elected M.P. for the borough. 
 
 My worthy parent, whose thoughts were any- 
 where and on anything but commerce, and whose 
 society was courted by so many of his townsmen, 
 was the founder only of his own social and political 
 reputation. The commercial reputation of the house 
 of long standing, of which he was the proprietor, 
 had been founded and bequeathed by his father. 
 Like many a fortunate or unfortunate heir to a com- 
 mercial estate that has been acquired by the daily 
 toil of a parent's long and anxious life, he felt little 
 sympathy with, or taste either for the character, 
 conditions, or dignity of his inheritance. Beyond 
 any. revenue that might arise therefrom, without 
 personal application or return of labor, the owner felt 
 no interest in his business property. His mind had 
 been tutored above it. Although his collegiate 
 
6 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 studies were in keeping with his father's means, they 
 in a srreat measure unfitted him for the mercantile 
 life for which he was intended, and by which alone 
 the income arising from the house could be perma- 
 nently maintained. He succeeded to the establish- 
 ment, but the establishment had to depend on its 
 former reputation rather than on the efforts of the 
 new master for its future position. " Had I been 
 trained for commercial life, commercial life might 
 have suited me. I engage in commerce at your 
 desire, but against my own." As recorded by him- 
 self, that, on his return from college, was the reply 
 to his parent, when requested to enter on the duties 
 designed for him. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Fll attend to that to-morrow." Such 
 was the repeated reply of the proprietor of the house 
 of long standing, when reminded of some important 
 business that required not to be deferred till to- 
 morrow, but attended to to-day. To a man who had 
 no taste for commerce the business of a parish or the 
 affairs of the nation proved of much greater im- 
 portance than his own. 
 
 It is a great mistake to suppose that the only 
 Houses of Parliament are those near Westminster 
 Abbey. Every town in the kingdom has its little 
 House of Commons. Every house, too, has its 
 local staff of debators. If not real M.IVs, they are 
 nevertheless big men — at least in their own eyes, if 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 7 
 
 not in the eyes of the world. If they cannot deal 
 with important public measures they deal largely in 
 words which are of the utmost importance to them- 
 selves* But let no one detract either from the dignity 
 or power of a country House of Commons. As 
 public opinion — through the press — is ever brought 
 to bear on Statesmen and Legislators, so likewise is 
 the voice of a village knot of politicians ever brought 
 to bear, and often to bear heavily, on each wavering 
 representative. "Woe to that M.P. who by a con- 
 scientious speech or vote should give offence not to 
 the Speaker in St. Stephen's Hall, but to the 
 speakers in the Town Hall of St. Stump. Severe 
 and lasting were the blows which the cutting sen- 
 tences of my honored father inflicted on all who failed 
 in their loyalty to the Crown or their duty to the 
 country. But far more severe and lasting was the 
 blow he at the same time inflicted on his own business. 
 The natural consequence of war between a gentle- 
 man's taste and his profession is soon perceptible. 
 Profession becomes the servant of taste, even at the 
 cost of the conqueror. It was so here. Other than 
 commercial matters filled the mind and engaged the 
 attention of one who was dependent on, but had no 
 taste for commerce. The reader, without the predic- 
 tion of a prophet or the reason of a Greek philoso- 
 pher, may anticipate the result. A few years after 
 the decease of its founder, the house of long standing 
 
O XOIBER ONE. 
 
 is discovered on the decline. The reputation of an 
 establishment may do much for a new proprietor, 
 but reputation, however high, is not altogether self- 
 supporting. If the outward superscription of a firm 
 require a periodical coat of paint or varnish, the in- 
 ternal machine that creates the fame of the house 
 must likewise need repeated attention. This dis- 
 covery was made in the establishment in question 
 rather late in the day. An attempt to remedy the 
 evil supplied painful evidence of the fact that it is 
 much easier to make a new trade than to retrieve 
 a neglected one. As active generals turn to their 
 own advantage the inactivity of their adversaries, 
 a few young and meritorious houses in the town 
 of my nativity were rapidly taking the strong posi- 
 tions of an establishment that had previously, and 
 for a long period, been regarded as the commercial 
 commander-in-chief of the surrounding district. 
 
Cjjajjtw ii. 
 
 FRANK AN ORPHAN. 
 
In* social or commercial life, how many and mo- 
 mentous are the changes which sometimes take place 
 in the hrief space of a few years. Two years are 
 numbered with the past. So are all the scenes and 
 some of the actors just named. The house of long 
 standing and the respected proprietor, who devoted 
 more time to parish and political affairs than to his 
 own, have both ceased to exist. The mortal decease 
 of the one was soon followed by the commercial 
 extinction of the other. The subsequent and closing 
 scene of the drama, in which all worldly accounts 
 were balanced, made it painfully manifest that, in 
 this instance, commerce and politics had not thrived 
 well together. The merchant had been sacrificed to 
 the politician. The fruitful gain arising from com- 
 merce had been neglected for the fruitless reputation 
 of the platform, or the worse than fruitless smiles of 
 political courtiers. But all was over. The honest 
 enthusiast who, at his own cost, had given so much 
 valuable time to others could give them no more. 
 His son, Frank, was now an orphan. His loved and 
 loving parents had gone # to their final resting place. 
 
 Fifteen is rather a critical age for a critical position. 
 At this moment I was at the point of both. A 
 
12 NX7MBEB ONE; OR, 
 
 parentless and penniless youth at the age of fifteen. 
 That was my position. It has been, and will again 
 be, the situation of other youths. But the world 
 covers a large space, and I had the world before me. 
 If I had no friend to insure me a good place therein, 
 I had none to prevent me obtaining the best place I 
 could for myself. AYith this knowledge I was about 
 o start on the journey of life. 
 
 As in manhood, so in boyhood — the heart looks for 
 a dwelling place anywhere but in the vicinity where 
 it has lost one. Deep and lasting is the pang that 
 gives birth to this desire for change of scene, or 
 change of occupation. Such a feeling, apart from 
 any other, might have justified me in the refusal of a 
 situation which was kindly tendered for my acceptance 
 by a friend of my late father. But at this moment 
 the heart contained something more than grief that 
 was at war with the interests of its owner. It was 
 pride. For the benefit of my young readers I admit 
 the first of many foolish acts. A false notion of 
 pride caused me to reject the boon my condition stood 
 so much in need of. What? Clerk in an office in 
 my native town, in which my father had been a man 
 of repute — horrible ! Then to be recognised in that 
 situation by those who were yet independent of self- 
 support — more horrible still. Or, finally, to be 
 laughed at and discarded by former companions for 
 having nobly accommodated myself to an una void- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 13 
 
 able change of fortune — more horrible than all. 
 These and kindred sensations alternately crossed the 
 mind. Like the base seconds or cowardly backers of 
 brave but misguided spirits in some ignoble encounter, 
 they seemed to encourage a proud heart to defend a 
 false position, whatever personal suffering might 
 ensue. Alas ! How frequent and severe is the 
 penalty paid by sensitive but mistaken young minds 
 to that subtle monster— pride. In my subsequent 
 travels round the world I beheld some of its effects. 
 In the streets of Melbourne I have seen the well 
 educated son of a bankrupt merchant carrying, in a 
 baker's basket, the daily bread of others in order to 
 obtain his own. In tracing the sad spectacle to its 
 origin, I discovered that the bearer of the basket, 
 rather than carry a small parcel in his native land, 
 had abandoned a lucrative position, as the representa- 
 tive of an old and eminent mercantile house, in 
 order to improve his position at the Antipodes. On 
 the Gold Fields of Victoria, I have seen the son of a 
 poor Baronet working, like an English "navvy/' 
 mid-deep in water — because in the mother country 
 the pride of the aristocratic laborer prevented him 
 accepting a subordinate government appointment 
 which had, with difficulty, been obtained through the 
 influence of his father. Farther in the interior of 
 Australia, a picture of a still more depressing ten- 
 dency arrested my attention. Riding one day over 
 
14 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 a part of the country in which kangaroos and 
 apossums were more plentiful than the human race, 
 I overtook a team of bullocks on their way to the 
 remote station of a well known squatter. On asking 
 the coarsely clad, unshaved, but youthful bullock 
 driver the nearest way to the point whither I was 
 bound, the young man, after having signalled his 
 cattle to stop, looked intently at his inquisitor, raised 
 both arms in a manner that indicated great surprise, 
 and in a tone of voice that betrayed something 
 between joy and madness, exclaimed : — 
 
 " I — can't be mistaken ; no, I " 
 
 Here he drew nearer the horse on which I was 
 mounted, and after an earnest survey of the rider, 
 sealed by a slight but expressive motion of the head 
 right and left, he repeated with increased emphasis, 
 
 "No; I can't be mistaken — I'm sure I can't. 
 But you don't know me — no ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I do not," I replied. 
 
 At this moment there confronted my vision a look 
 I have never forgotten and can never forget. A 
 fiery glance from the eye of the most eminent actor 
 that ever lived never made a deeper impression on a 
 spectator than was suddenly produced on the writer 
 by the mute yet eloquent expression on the counte- 
 nance of the bullock driver. It seemed to open out 
 a volume — not in a word, but in a look. That look 
 conveyed to my mind twenty questions at a blush. 
 
THE WAY OP THE WOKLD. 15 
 
 "Who, or what is he? To whom does he belong? 
 Prom what part of the world did he come? As 
 these and other queries were crossing the imagina- 
 tion they were interrupted by : — 
 
 " Yes ; I know you well ; but you don't wish to 
 know me. You and I are not noic — that is I am not 
 
 what I was. I am the — the same person, but n 
 
 His speech faltered, and as he turned his head to 
 conceal the tears that damped his cheek, I couldn't, 
 for the life of me, avoid following suit, although 
 satisfied the thing was altogether a mistake. Re- 
 covering his self-possession, the young man evidently 
 wished to pass off, unnoticed, the symptoms of a 
 sensitive heart, and in a volume of sound somewhat 
 more bold than clear, he continued, 
 
 " "When you have passed the next creek turn your 
 horse to the right, and the rider will soon reach the 
 spot he enquired for. Good morning, Sir. In time 
 past I might have said, Frank." 
 
 The familiar sound of my own name, coupled with 
 a style of speech superior to that of most bullock 
 drivers, completely electrified me ; and as the young 
 man withdrew to proceed with his team of cattle, I 
 muttered a sort of half stifled, "aye," or "ho-i" as 
 a signal for him to return. This was answered by a 
 clear and emphatic : — 
 
 a No, Sir. I have no wish to intrude my con- 
 versation or my company on anyone. Time was 
 
\() NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 when Charles , the present bullock driver, would 
 
 have received a different sort of greeting from his 
 old school-fellow." 
 
 The name of Charles , the disfigured student, 
 
 threw instant light on the subject, A moment, and 
 I was dismounted j another, and the hands and arms 
 of two old schoolfellows were like so many pump- 
 handles in rapid motion, while the liquid drops that 
 bore testimony to the sincerity of the operation were 
 as warm, if not so continuous, as any stream that 
 ever flowed from a natural course. 
 
 What took place after the somewhat difficult task 
 of personal recognition, or subsequently at the house 
 of the squatter in whose service my friend filled an 
 unenviable situation, may be passed without com- 
 ment. Although the early history of one who had 
 fallen from a good position to that of bullock driver 
 was soon revealed, the details of that revelation will 
 not be required here. It is enough for the reader to 
 know that the primary cause of the young man's fall 
 was—; -pride. 
 
 To perpetuate, or to redeem such a fall two things, 
 in either case, are required — idleness and intemper- 
 ance, or perseverance and sobriety. To continue in 
 idleness and intemperance the fallen one may expect 
 nothing but the ultimate and utter destruction both 
 <jf mind and body. AVith perseverance and sobriety 
 a young man, although disgraced and humbled by 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 17 
 
 some false step or steps of his own, has every hope 
 of future restoration. It was even so with mv vouno* 
 friend the bullock driver. But the mind of that 
 generous hearted young fellow had been so humbled 
 by a bitter consciousness of early errors that, of all 
 who knew him, he himself was perhaps the least 
 sanguine of his ever being able to raise himself from 
 the level of what he called his "just deserts." He 
 was too sincere in the conviction of past folly to 
 estimate the real value of that heaven-born secret 
 that creates a desire for an upward course. He was 
 not one of those miserable objects who, under a 
 faithless promise of reformation, obtain assistance 
 from friends and relatives only to sink still lower in 
 the depths of their own degradation. He had fallen, 
 through the silly pride of early conceit, but he still 
 retained the noble pride of self respect. He had 
 sacrificed his position, not his independence. After 
 an interview in which a few of the bright traits of 
 his character were seen, like specks of precious metal 
 peeping through the mire, and when an old acquaint- 
 ance, commiserating his position, tendered a little 
 gold for his acceptance, he firmly but feelingly replied, 
 ""What have I done to merit this? Xo. Thank 
 God, I am not yet a beggar or a pauper, and while I 
 have strength to labor, I dare not become the recipient 
 of charity. I thank you, my dear friend, for your 
 kind offer. The Lord will bless you for it, and for 
 
 c 
 
IS NUMBER ONE; Oil, 
 
 your generous sympathy, but I should not myself he 
 blessed in the possession of an unmerited gift." 
 
 Enough. A summary of what followed may be 
 given in a few words. There ever have been, and 
 ever will be, in all countries and in all ages, people 
 who, sooner or later, discover and appreciate good 
 qualities — whether in a work of art or in a work of 
 nature. Honesty, sobriety, industry, and morality 
 were leading 1 features in the character of the bullock 
 driver. Although his master was not one of the 
 most temperate of men, either in his living or his 
 lanona^e, he beheld and admired in his servant 
 virtues of which he was himself deficient. He was, 
 moreover, a rich man, but he was also an uneducated 
 man. He found his servant to be the possessor of 
 riches superior to his own — mental riches. The 
 discovery induced him to regard the owner with 
 respect. He improved his position, admitted him to 
 his confidence, and subsequently gave him a share in 
 his extensive domain. They were now no longer 
 master and servant, squatter and bullock driver, but 
 partners. The death of the former, which took place 
 about two years after the business union, and the 
 subsequent marriage of the latter with the only 
 surviving daughter of his late master, will bring the 
 narrative to a close. It only remains to add that 
 the late bullock driver is, at this present writing, one 
 of the most wealthy landowners in Australia. Yes; 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 19 
 
 there is something else to add. He is now, as master, 
 what he was, as servant,— though humble and kind 
 hearted, yet great in his aspirations and deeds as a 
 man, made greater in the purity of his motives as a 
 Christian. Not a Christian known to the world 
 through outward signs and professions, but one 
 known by the poor and friendless, through the way 
 in which he silently performs the Christian character 
 in a variety of noble actions. He is now a rich man 
 and a good man. I respect him now, but I loved 
 him when he was a bullock driver. He is as worthy 
 of love now as then ; but then the nobleness of his 
 character, and that alone, came forth and filled my 
 heart with love ; now his riches and his position 
 seem, as it were, to deprive the heart of its early 
 sympathy, and what was once the very essence of 
 love is now changed into profound esteem. 
 
 The simple record of these and other realities, as 
 tlris work proceeds, will need no literary adornment. 
 If the facts are not strong enough to speak for 
 themselves — if, like the oral demonstration of little 
 children, something be required to clear or brighten 
 each subject — simplicity of action, like the natural 
 movements of little children, will, perhaps, supply 
 the deficiency. In describing my own acts, and those 
 of others, I will not, for a moment, presume to say 
 that similar acts will invariably produce the same 
 results. I will give the substance of numerous 
 
20 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 truthful, some striking, incidents, without drawing 
 on the imagination for external forms and nourishes. 
 Of certain movements, whether giddy or grave, 
 trifling or momentous, foolish or otherwise, the 
 simple issue of each, so far as it has been developed, 
 shall be given. In leaving my readers, especially 
 my young readers, to consider whether the same or 
 similar movements in life may not be attended with 
 corresponding results, I will only express a sincere 
 hope that they may arrive at conclusions not alto- 
 gether adverse to their own welfare, and to the chief 
 object of the author of the present pages. 
 
Chapter in. 
 
 THE ENGLISH METROPOLIS. 
 

 Loxdox is the parent of a large family and the 
 guardian of a still larger one. Of her own children 
 that remain at home she has a great many to provide 
 for ; yet, she has ever to make provision for a greater 
 number of strangers, either in the shape of country 
 cousins,- foreign visitors, or grandchildren. She may, 
 in truth, be termed the grand parent of the kingdom ; 
 for in addition to favored foreigners, some of whom 
 prolong their stay to an indefinite period, and a 
 succession of periodical visitors, she receives from 
 the respective counties — her grandsons and grand- 
 daughters — a daily supply of young heads and hearts 
 — some to be polished, instructed, and raised to 
 power, wealth, or fame ; others to be neglected, 
 dishonored, and left to perish, either through their 
 own or others vices. Both of the good and evil 
 store, this monster, London, has enough, and more 
 than enough, for all comers. 
 
 From every part of the kingdom, by young 
 persons of every profession, and by many of no 
 profession at all, London is sought as the most 
 desirable mart on which to test the mental, physical, 
 or scientific powers or pretensions of those who have 
 little or nothing else to depend on. With what 
 
24 NTJMBEB OXE; OR, 
 
 pleasure does the country apprentice look forward to 
 the close of his apprenticeship, in the hope of 
 "going to London." With what emphasis does the 
 provincial actor declare he can never become great 
 till he has established himself as a successful character 
 on the London boards. Thus with actors of all 
 grades, and of either sex, — from the young statesman 
 in embryo to the blooming country cook, each and 
 all are anxious to perfect their parts on the London 
 stage. It was even so with me, with this rather 
 important difference — my part was yet to be revealed. 
 The part of the schoolboy was the only one I had 
 attempted, and that was unfortunately, although 
 unavoidably, abandoned in an imperfect state. Still, 
 boy as I was, there was something within — some- 
 thing between the youthful spirit of adventure and a 
 romantic desire for early independence — that satisfied 
 me I should not remain long in the great capital 
 without employment. Not that the loss of parents 
 compelled me, on the instant, to leave the scenes of 
 my childhood; but rather that the family jewel case, 
 deprived of its chief treasures, had ceased to be 
 attractive ; for in the vacant sound of home the 
 orphan was only reminded of the homeless. 
 
 The situation I had declined in my native town was 
 applied for and obtained by a cousin of mine who was 
 about my own age. He was already made happy in 
 the early and bright prospect of commercial life, of 
 
THE WAY Of THE WOULD. 25 
 
 which be had received the first instalment. I, too, 
 was happy in the buoyant hope that London would 
 shortly present for my acceptance something equally, 
 if not more brilliant. The word " penniless M was 
 no longer applicable to my own position, the sale of 
 my father's effects having, contrary to expectation, 
 after payment of all debts, left a balance in my 
 favor of about seven pounds. 
 
 All is ready for the start. A substantial trunk, 
 containing best and second suits of the most approved 
 countrified cut, with a variety of articles cast in 
 similar moulds. Of such were formed some of the 
 outward features by which the bearer might have 
 been recognized in the great city as a " native " of 
 anywhere else. The more minute or portfolio portion 
 of the baggage included five letters of introduction 
 to mercantile houses in London ; a purse of seven 
 guineas, and sundry trifles of no value to anyone but 
 the owner. These, with the animate part of the 
 stock, in the shape of a vigorous yet slender frame, 
 an active spirit, an indifferent and unfinished educa- 
 tion, together with the good wishes of numerous 
 country cousins, comprised the personal and entire 
 capital of a youth who was about to launch himself 
 on the great ocean of life — the unrestrained dictates 
 of his own mind having to govern or guide him on 
 his future course, either for good or evil. 
 
 Although I was about to start in life with a small 
 
26 number one; ok, 
 
 capital, I had often heard, not only heard but read, 
 that some of the most eminent men in the kingdom 
 had started with less. So and so, the rich merchant, 
 or the eminent engineer, or the profound philosopher, 
 or some other self-made and renowned character 
 "was once a poor hoy." This was often said in 
 reference to the accomplished fact, without a momen- 
 tary glance at the varied means by which the ac- 
 complishment had been effected. Like others, I 
 beheld the pleasing pictures, and turned not to the 
 process by which they had been perfected. The 
 simple knowledge that each was a type of what 
 might again become a living reality inspired me 
 with hope and strength for the coming struggle — a 
 struggle, if not for eminence, at least for honorable 
 independence. With a spirit so hopeful, it was no 
 wonder that I had faith in the well known declara- 
 tion of an eminent and self-raised character, who 
 said, " where there is merit in a young man's career 
 there is no such word as fail." 
 
 Brunei and the " broad gauge " might have been 
 subjects of public conversation in the early part of 
 the present century, but, if the latter had any 
 existence, it existed only in the imagination at the 
 time I took my seat on the coach that was to convey 
 me from a certain town in the west of England to 
 London in the brief space of twenty-four hours. 
 Yet, never, that I remember, did I enjoy a ride more 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 27 
 
 than on that occasion. Many of my readers will be 
 ready, from their own experience, to affirm that coach 
 travelling had its pleasures as well as its annoyances ; 
 that on the box-seat of a well mounted four-in-hand 
 an occasional summer ride over hill and dale offered, 
 in return for the additional time involved in the 
 excursion, that varied panorama of the beauties of 
 nature of which modern travellers are, in a great 
 measure, deprived by the rapid advance of science, 
 locomotion, and railway tunnels. Above and beyond 
 the charming and varied aspects of the scene that 
 enlivened my first coach journey to the great metro- 
 polis, a glorious sunshine of hope warmed the heart 
 with the most pleasing pictures of uncurtained scenes 
 in the distance. To my own youthful and inexpe- 
 rienced vision, the beauties of natural life typified 
 the sweets of the life on which I was about to enter. 
 I had yet no cause to anticipate, or even to dream of 
 coming clouds and disappointments. At present, all 
 was fair, and in the present prospect my mind beheld 
 the future. 
 
 Evervthing seemed to justify the pleasing predic- 
 tion. Four letters of introduction to mercantile 
 houses in the great city to which I was bound, 
 together with an assurance from some of the leading 
 men in my native town that " the noble and right 
 honorable M.P., who was mainly indebted for his 
 seat in parliament to the political influence of my 
 
28 NUMBEE OXE. 
 
 late father, would only be too happy to serve me M — 
 all appeared to unite in suggesting various sunny 
 spots on which to build a structure of future 
 greatness. 
 
 The imagination of man, at every period of life,, 
 is ever ready to shape to its own mould any and 
 everything that may incline, or even seem to incline, 
 towards self. The moulds for shaping my individual 
 budget of anticipated sweets were many, although 
 none of them were yet filled. Into which, then, shall 
 I cast my own lot? Shall I accept a subordinate 
 government appointment and pass, or waste, the best 
 part of life on foolscap and red tape, in the hope of 
 ultimately becoming a pensioner on the public purse ; 
 or shall I turn my youthful thoughts and aspirations 
 to a more independent course of action, trusting to 
 personal exertion for advancement, rather than to 
 length of official service for a small pension in old 
 age? These were questions, the only ones, that 
 created a little anxiety as I rapidly approached the 
 place and time by which such, and other queries, 
 would for ever be set at rest. 
 
 London, or rather the smoke arising therefrom, 
 appears in the distance. Other and mere important 
 considerations are suddenly suspended for a concen- 
 tration of ideas relating to the richest and most 
 wonderful city in the world. 
 
HONEST JOHN.— FRANK IN LONDON 
 
Honest Johx. This was the name of a man to 
 whose clean but humble apartments I proceeded on 
 my arrival in London. Honest John was a man in 
 whose upright but somewhat crude and abrupt words 
 and actions originated that part of his title which 
 was not given to him either by his godfathers or his 
 godmothers. That he was as honest when at the 
 baptismal font he received the name of " John " as 
 at any subsequent period of his life those who have 
 seen the tcay of the icorhl reflected, either in them- 
 selves or others, from childhood to maturity, will not 
 be disposed to doubt. If honesty in infancy is unal- 
 loyed, John retained enough of the primitive virtue 
 to merit, through the various stages of a long career, 
 a- title that followed him with honor to the grave. 
 Even from the imperfect outlines that will be given 
 herein, the reader may hereafter arrive at the reason- 
 able conclusion that — so far as human capacity could 
 compass his character — John lived and died an honest 
 man. He was an old servant that had been in the 
 service of my father, and father's father, time out ot 
 mind — at least, out of mind or memory of the writer. 
 He had ever been part, or a variety of parts, of the 
 late "house of long standing." As something 
 
32 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 between master and man — alternately representing a 
 little, but not enough of each character to be regarded 
 as chief of either — Honest John had been forty years 
 in the establishment. The house and John were 
 each identified with the other. As in former days, 
 passengers by a stage coach knew more of the coach- 
 man than of his employers, John was better known 
 than his master to the majority of those who had 
 business transactions with the " house of long stand- 
 ing." Everybody that came to the establishment 
 knew John, and John knew everybody that came; 
 not only knew them, but knew or anticipated their 
 wants before they were expressed. But the death of 
 his master and subsequent dissolution of the house, 
 compelled John, at the age of sixty, either to seek 
 another home for his services, or retire on some six 
 or seven hundred pounds he had saved from the past. 
 Idleness, however, is not the choice of an active 
 mind at any age — much less of one whose bodily 
 vigour made him more than a match for juniors who 
 had passed an intemperate life. In health and 
 strength, John was a young man, although his years 
 numbered threescore. When the head of a London 
 house gave him an opportunity of filling a respect- 
 able, though not very lucrative, situation, the offer 
 was readily accepted. With his adopted child, Amy, 
 who was now about fifteen years old, Honest John 
 immediately took up his abode in London. Here 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 33 
 
 he had resided only about three months when I left 
 the coach that had conveyed me from home to pay 
 my first visit in the great metropolis to the only 
 man therein of whom I had any intimate knowledge. 
 
 Entering John's apartments in the neighbourhood- 
 of Islington had the momentary effect of placing me 
 again in the town from which I had been journeying 
 during the previous twenty-four hours. The presence 
 not only of Honest John and his industrious Amy, 
 but also of those inanimate things which had been 
 transferred from the country cottage to adorn the 
 present little sitting-room, imparted something like 
 reality to the illusion. Around the room, in frames 
 more remarkable for their antiquity than for any- 
 thing else, were hung the familiar counterfeits — 
 chiefly in red and black paint — of John's nearest 
 and dearest ancestors. These with the minor family 
 relics, in the shape of old china and old books that 
 occupied their allotted places in the apartment, gave 
 to the interior that vivid appearance of " home " 
 that forcibly reminded me of an occasional visit to 
 John's country cottage, as courier from the house of 
 long standing, bearing the message of " John, you're 
 wanted." 
 
 One glance from the window, and the illusion was 
 dispelled. Instead of a look out, as from the country 
 cottage/ on a beautiful garden, ornamented with 
 choice shrubs and flowers, with a fine landscape in 
 
 D 
 
3 1 NUMBER ONE ; OK, 
 
 the distance,, the prospect from the London apart- 
 ment was a dirty little yard about eight or ten feet 
 square, enclosed, not by majestic oaks and elms 
 " with verdure clad," but by the backs of smoky 
 •houses, resembling certain persons in and around 
 the same, who appeared to me to stand sadly in need 
 of a good wash. 
 
 The tea and chop which had been prepared for me 
 by the attentive Amy were much enjoyed, and the 
 enjoyment enhanced by a hasty review of the changes 
 relating to ourselves and others that had taken place 
 in the brief space of a few months. 
 
 Amy was an orphan — the offspring of poor parents, 
 but left parentless when only five years old. Honest 
 John, who was never married, adopted the child of 
 those with whom he had been on intimate terms in 
 early life. Although in all but the lineal tie, he had 
 ever been to her a father, she had been taught to 
 call, and always called, him rt uncle." Amy was 
 slightly deformed. But the deformity was only that 
 of the body. The sweetness of her disposition and 
 the purity of her mind were among the countless 
 proofs that the Almighty, for any outward or minor 
 defects in His children, ever supplies compensating 
 virtues within. The mild, yet expressive, counte- 
 nance that imparted life to the engaging notes of 
 the gentle Amy soon made her hearers forget that 
 the back of the speaker was somewhat out of the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 35 
 
 usual proportions. The love that existed between 
 John and Amy proves that, even from the common 
 accidents of life, the human heart may form social 
 ties as sacred and profound as any fostered on the 
 parent hearth. Often have I heard my father men- 
 tion the severe reproof that was once administered 
 by Honest John to a conceited individual, who, after 
 casting a contemptuous glance at the adopted child, 
 said : — 
 
 " \Yhy, John, how came you to adopt such an 
 ugly deformed little brute as that ? " 
 
 " Brute ! " exclaimed John. " Is she related to 
 you, Sir?" 
 
 " Thank heaven — no," was the fop's reply. 
 
 " Then she can't be a little brute, although you 
 are a big one." 
 
 Defeated with his own weapon, the inquisitor closed 
 the combat with that kind of forced laugh that serves 
 to cover the shame of an ignominious retreat. 
 
 In a simile between animal and human nature 
 our great dramatic poet says : — 
 
 "Is the adder better than the eel, 
 
 Because its painted skin contents the eve ? " 
 
 And Honest John, in comparing the relative value 
 of mind and matter, had faith in the old ada^e that 
 "beauty is only skin deep." It was enough for him 
 that Amy had many beauties in her mind, whatever 
 
36 NUMBEB, one; OR; 
 
 others might think of the imperfections of her body. 
 Love between parent and child could not be stronger 
 than that which here existed between the adopter 
 and the adopted. 
 
 Seeing I had done justice to the repast that had 
 been prepared by the attentive Amy, Honest John, 
 after throwing aside the newspaper he had been 
 reading, said : — 
 
 " Well, Frank ; as you've come to London to make 
 your fortune, what's to be your first move ? " 
 
 " Can't say at present, John. Wish to see a few 
 of the London sights first. Am told that after I 
 
 begin work there'll be no time to " 
 
 " Spend your money, eh ? " interposed John. " Now 
 one gentle word before you start in life may be 
 worth a dozen strong ones after you've started. 
 Listen, Frank. In going through this world, like 
 going towards the next, you've only two ways — the 
 right and the wrong. Now, lad, don't spend your 
 money till you learn how to make it. Who's the 
 silly body would have thee begin the other way ? " 
 
 "No silly body at all, but a very nice young 
 fellow. Why, John, you knew the only son of the 
 gentleman who was father's solicitor — I mean young 
 Silas Bloomfield. He's considered a very clever 
 young man at home." 
 
 " So is the father — very clever," said John. " He 
 once charged me six and eight pence for saying 'yes.' 
 
THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 37 
 
 If there's any family likeness in the son's ability, 
 take my word for't it will do thee no good, lad." 
 
 "Oh, hut I rather like Silas. He's coming to 
 town to-morrow. Going to ever so many places. 
 Promised to take me. Nice young fellow, Silas." 
 
 " Xo doubt/' said John. u And with this nice 
 young fellow you and your money are going? " 
 
 " Of course, John, I intend to go with him. Silas 
 has plenty of money. Only wants my company, 
 that's all. As I'm a stranger in London, his com- 
 pany will be very useful to me." 
 
 " Will it ? " said John. 
 
 " I only wish he was going to stay a little longer ; 
 for he says we shall have quite enough to do to see 
 everything in a fortnight." 
 
 " Quite," replied John. 
 
 u And his uncle told us it would be rather hard 
 work." 
 
 "Bather," said John. 
 
 " But Silas was only ten days in London last time, 
 and he says he saw everything and everybody before 
 he left." 
 
 Amy, although quietly seated at needlework, had 
 been paying more attention to the conversation than 
 to her stitches. At this moment, as if by sudden 
 impulse, she turned her eyes towards me, and in a 
 subdued yet impassioned tone exclaimed : — 
 
 " Don't believe him, Frank. Although uncle and 
 
38 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 I have been in London more than three months, we 
 haven't seen " 
 
 (C Amy ! " said John, in a tone that at once trans- 
 ferred her action from the tongue to the linger, 
 ° don't interfere in matters that don't concern thee, 
 girl." 
 
 For the mild reproof Amy had received the sensi- 
 tiveness of her nature was at once perceptible, in 
 certain little liquid drops that trickled down her 
 cheeks. John was impatient of interruption. He 
 noted every word that fell from my lips with that 
 marked attention that seemed to dive into the very 
 mainspring of those oral indications of youth that 
 sometimes betray the course of future action. After 
 he had paced the room two or three times, and 
 resumed the seat he had just vacated, he said, 
 
 " Well, Frank, we can't place old heads on young 
 shoulders — I'm aware of that, lad. Though they 
 talk about the wisdom of the world, there's often 
 more talk than body in't, especially if gathered young. 
 \ w, lad, there's a sort of wisdom in the world that 
 young folks may learn of others, and there's another 
 sort they can only learn of themselves. There's the 
 sweet and there's the bitter fruit of experience. I've 
 tasted both. If you live long, you'll taste both; but 
 if you only learn of old heads the worth of the one, 
 and the cost of the other, you may avoid a good deal 
 of what nobody ever wished to taste twice. After 
 
THE WAT OP THE WORLD. 39 
 
 his London freaks and frolics, that nice young fellow, 
 as you call him, young Silas Bloomfield, will return 
 to his parents. You have no parents — remember that, 
 Frank. You wish to see a few of the shams before 
 you begin with the realities of life. Don't go out of 
 your depth. You have yet to learn your own strength 
 and your own weakness. Boy like, you are going to 
 be amused with the toys of society. Go. But when 
 the play's over, what then, Frank ? " 
 
 "Work — work in earnest, John," I replied. 
 "That sounds better/' said John, with a smile. 
 " When you are ready for the work will the work be 
 ready for you ? " 
 
 " Of course it will, when I enter a situation." 
 " True lad — ic/ien you enter. But when you are 
 ready to enter will there be any friend ready to open 
 the door?" 
 
 " AYhy, John, I have no less than five " 
 
 " Excellent ! " exclaimed John, ere I had finished 
 the sentence. " You've a larger share of fortune to 
 begin life with than most lads can boast of — remem- 
 ber that, Frank." 
 
 "Yes, John— though I didn't say I had five 
 situations. But I have five letters to London 
 houses." 
 
 " Is that all ? " enquired John. 
 " Yes j but, let me tell you, the principals are all 
 first-class men of business." 
 
40 NUMBER one; ok, 
 
 " Smaller the chance of their having any business 
 with you, unless you happen to be wanted." 
 
 " If they don't want me, I shall take a govern- 
 ment appointment." 
 
 "By all means," said John. 
 
 "I would rather be a merchant, but if I can't, 
 wliv I suppose I'd better take a government situation, 
 till I hear of something better ; don't you think so, 
 John?" 
 
 "Decidedly," said John, with a smile. 
 
 "I shall call on Lord ,one of our members. Don't 
 
 you remember that, when I was a little boy, he gave 
 me, at election time, the first guinea I ever had ? " 
 
 " And, take my word for't, it will be the last you 
 will ever have from the same hand," said John. 
 
 " I don't want his money — not I. Haven't I nearly 
 seven pounds of my own ? When I want money I 
 shall work for it. But as his lordship was so friendly 
 with my father, I'm sure, if I don't take a commercial 
 situation, he will give me a good official one. I have 
 no doubt about that, have you, John ? " 
 
 " Not the least, though our conclusions may differ. 
 But it's no use at present, Frank, to talk any more 
 about what you will, or what you won't do, or about 
 what others will or won't do for thee. There is one 
 thing you must first learn. That you may not pay 
 a high price in learning it is the best wish of one 
 who is perhaps not thy worst enemy." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 
 
 11 
 
 " What is it, John ? " I enquired, feeling anxious 
 to know, if not to apply, so valuable a secret. 
 
 "The Way of the World." 
 
 " But there are so many ways in the world, 
 John." 
 
 "There's a family likeness between 'em all. It 
 may be stronger in some hearts than others, but 
 there is always a little feature or two to remind one 
 of the original. Dost understand me, lad ? " 
 
 "Indeed I do not. What is the original feature?" 
 I enquired. 
 
 u Number One. That's it — the best or worst of 
 all figures or features. It will serve thee either as a 
 blessing or a curse, If you wish advancement, 
 wealth, or worldly honors, trust to number one — that 
 is, to thyself. If you look for aid to other figures 
 you'll fail. But the same figure denotes two classes. 
 Remember that, lad. There are the number ones 
 which signify selfishness and all that is bad; and 
 there are the number ones that signify independence, 
 charitableness, and all that is good. Study thou the 
 evil class only to become more firmly attached to the 
 other. So far as in thy power lies, assist others, but 
 never trust to others for assistance. Honest John 
 can o-ive thee no further advice. Time will soon 
 come when he will not be here to offer any. Then, 
 Frank, you will know more of the way of the world. 
 In that way, you will find, under various aspects, 
 
42 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 and at every turn, whether in social, commercial, or 
 political life, that the first and foremost of all figures 
 is number one." 
 
 Honest John here ceased to offer advice. It was 
 now nearly ten o'clock, and knowing, as I did, that 
 the small sitting room we then occupied, and two 
 little bedrooms, comprised the domestic apartments 
 of the host, I began to feel somewhat curious as to 
 where I might have to sleep, having in my own mind 
 concluded that on the morrow I should have to seek 
 a lodging elsewhere. With some little hesitation, I 
 broached the subject. John soon settled it. 
 
 " Well ; we'll not turn thee out o'door, lad. Amy 
 will make thy mind easy on that point. Amy is 
 mistress of all household matters." 
 
 Hereupon, Amy was instantly on her legs, on 
 which she was as nimble as a kitten. My attention 
 was immediately directed to the end of the apart- 
 ment to which she darted. 
 
 " Look here, Frank," said Amy, in a most en- 
 gaging tone, " you see this little sofa ? This morning 
 I purchased it for you." 
 
 " For me ? " I enquired. 
 
 " For you, and you only, Frank. It is to -be yours 
 as long as you like, or have occasion to use it ; is it 
 not, uncle ? " 
 
 " Quite right, girl," said John. 
 
 At this moment it not only puzzled me how I was to 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 43 
 
 sleep on such a contracted bit of furniture, but also 
 how I was to dispose of ruy long legs in the attempt. 
 
 " Perhaps, like me, you never saw a sofa-bed before 
 you came to London ? " said Amy. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I innocently enquired. 
 
 " You shall see," replied Amy. 
 
 She there and then, as if by magic, opened out to 
 my astonished vision bedstead, with bed and bedding 
 enough to repose, in comfort, a body of greater pro- 
 portions than that which was about to become its 
 temporary occupant. 
 
 "Everything new," said Amy, as she prepared the 
 portable couch for my reception. " Bedstead, bed, 
 and bedding, all new this morning ; and this is a 
 great advantage for a young person just from the 
 country, is it not, uncle ? " 
 
 " Right, girl," said John. "Amy speaks from 
 experience; and, take my word for't, lad, it's the 
 best authority on any subject. But Prank is not to 
 be frightened by a few lady-birds ? " 
 
 " Not I. Pretty little innocent creatures. But 
 how strange you should have such things in a place 
 like London." 
 
 John and Amy saluted my innocence with laughter. 
 
 " In London,' Frank, thou shalt find creatures by 
 far more strange than these. This thou wilt learn 
 from experience." 
 
 " There ! " said Amy, as she gave the finishing 
 
44 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 toucli to the little bed, " I only hope you may sleep 
 well, and find, in the morning, that my endeayonr to 
 make you comfortable has been successful/' 
 
 " I am sure I shall ; and, as for sleeping, I am 
 just now tired enough to sleep anywhere." 
 
 " Xo doubt, lad," said John. " We will not long 
 delay the trial. A little while and we shall all retire. 
 Amy,— the Book V 
 
 Amy immediately conyeyed to the table the family 
 Bible, seated herself, and read, without comment, 
 one chapter each from the Old and Xew Testament. 
 I will not now, as I did then, attempt to disguise the 
 varied sensations which at that moment came over 
 me. They were not in unison, and had little sym- 
 pathy with a sacred discourse. I was less impressed 
 with the sublime character of the subject than with 
 the clear and well emphasised notes of the reader. 
 Had Amy been engaged on a couple of chapters of 
 exciting romance, I should, probably, have felt more 
 at ease, and my thoughts would not have wandered 
 so far from the matter. I thought Amy a charming 
 reader ; but a sepulchral, solemn sort of regard for, 
 rather than love of, what she was reading, created, 
 during the short time she was eno-a^ed on the sacred 
 volume, a considerable degree of restless anxiety for 
 the relief I experienced at the close. 
 
 " Frank," said John, as Amy closed the sacred 
 volume, " when you were four years old your mother 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 45 
 
 died. You don't remember her. Twice a daw, at 
 least, she read her Bible. That you don't remember." 
 Here John rose from his seat, and taking the 
 candle Amy had provided, gave me a hearty shake of 
 the hand. After a momentary pause, and a look of 
 impressive earnestness, he said : — 
 
 " Happy that young man or young woman whose 
 habits furnish proof of having been trained by such 
 a mother. God bless thee, Frank. Good night ! M 
 
 "I hope you'll sleep well," said Amy, with a 
 smile ; " and not have your rest disturbed by lady- 
 birds. Good night ! " 
 
 John and Amy retired to their respective apart- 
 ments. A few moments, and I was not only enclosed 
 in the new bedding Amy had provided, but also 
 ready for the sweet repose I believed sleep to have 
 in store for me. Contrary to expectation, it was 
 two hours, or more, before the wished-for comfort 
 came. Although my extended limbs, in the very 
 luxury of enjoyment, told of the fatigue of the body, 
 there were certain restless little thoughts that delayed 
 the repose of the mind. The more I tried not to 
 think of anything, the more quickly came something 
 to make me think. The floating images were many 
 and various. The chief of them seemed to suggest 
 the question, — "will this dwelling-place afford me 
 the same degree of comfort I might find in a lodging 
 of my own? " I felt satisfied that the united desire 
 
46 NUMBEE ONE. 
 
 of John and Amy was to contribute not only to my 
 immediate comfort, but also to my permanent hap- 
 piness ; but it then appeared to me that there were 
 certain forms appended to their efforts that would 
 prove fatal to the consummation of their hopes. The 
 heartfelt gratitude I already felt for their kindness 
 evoked, at the same time, a bitter sense of the 
 restraint that kindness might place on my youthful 
 inclinations. I had for some time been free from 
 social restraint, and I wished to continue so. Al- 
 though, in my native town, I had always occupied, 
 in church, a portion of the family pew on the Sab- 
 bath day, I had no recollection, till this my first 
 evening in London, of ever reading, or hearing the 
 Bible read during the iceek. At home, I had often 
 been told that Honest John was a good sort of man, 
 but I had never passed an evening at his cottage, or 
 in his company, till now; and I had no idea that 
 any of his goodness arose in reading, or having the 
 Bible read twice a day. 
 
 These and other thoughts, concerning my own 
 feelings and future movements, alternately crossed 
 the mind. But, as the approach of midnight 
 lessened the noises without, balmy sleep closed the 
 debate I had been carrying on with myself, and 
 adjourned the consideration of other subjects till I 
 should rise, refreshed, and better prepared for action, 
 after I had passed my first night in London. 
 
Cjjttjjter 6. 
 
 PLEASURE AND PAIN.— HOPE AND 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
How was the first month after my arrival in 
 London occupied ? Let truth, in the following brief 
 narrative, reply. 
 
 In three days I had had enough of Honest John, 
 Amy, and the sofa-bedstead. Each in that brief 
 space had contributed so much to my comfort that 
 a relaxation, if not of good things, at least of the 
 attendants that accompanied them, was already 
 thought desirable. Breakfast I enjoyed, but I re- 
 lished the eggs and bacon more than the two chap- 
 ters by which they were preceded. Supper I also 
 enjoyed, but the Book— the Book before breakfast 
 and after supper — no; I didn't enjoy that. The 
 daily appearance of the Book, however, was only one 
 of several causes that induced an early change of 
 abode. My companion, Silas Bloomfield, had arrived 
 in London. By him I was informed that a latch-key 
 to the street-door of a lodging-house was an indis- 
 pensable article with any one who wished to go 
 " sight seeing." Honest John had no latch-key, and 
 he usually retired to rest at ten o'clock. Contrary, 
 therefore, to the wishes of my systematic host and 
 the attentive Amy, I left the free board and lodging 
 they wished me to retain, in order to share with my 
 
 E 
 
50 number one; or, 
 
 companion the expense and pleasure of an apartment 
 in which, as he informed me, we could "do as we 
 liked." 
 
 Pleasure-hunting against time is rather hard work. 
 My first experience on this head receives daily con- 
 firmation from that numerous and ever-flowing body 
 of the community commonly called " country cousins," 
 who come to London to see everything within a given 
 space of time. Although a good deal may be seen 
 in such a race for pleasure, how much of the spectacle 
 is understood or enjoyed ? It may be possible to go 
 through the form of dining six times in one day, but 
 it is scarcely possible to partake of, much less to 
 enjoy, a liberal share of each repast, however varied 
 may be the dishes composing the same. An attempt 
 to cram either mind or body with food of any sort 
 was never yet attended by pleasing results. 
 
 At the expiration of a fortnight my friend, Silas, 
 and the writer had seen many, or rather most of the 
 leading "London sights." But, as we reclined on 
 the softest place we could find in our apartment on 
 the last day, we were better qualified to discourse on 
 the daily fatigue arising from the labor involved in 
 " sight seeing " than on any particular pleasure to be 
 derived therefrom. It puzzled each of us, on a calm 
 review of the " wonders M we had seen, to determine 
 which was the most wonderful, or whether, in fact, 
 there was in either of the "wonders" anything very 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 51 
 
 wonderful, after all. So far as I was concerned, 
 disappointment formed the chief ingredient in the 
 review. Founded on sketch-books and country gos- 
 sip, my imaginary picture of the marvels of London 
 was dazzling only in the distance — the ideal having 
 surpassed the reality. 
 
 Of the romantic forms and charming figures with 
 which young persons, and others, sometimes people 
 the imagination — relative to celebrated mind and 
 matter, heard of, but unseen — a striking instance re- 
 cently came under my own immediate notice. Having 
 occasional opportunities of going into societv far 
 above my own circle, I some time since took one of 
 my fair "country cousins" to a conversazione at 
 which were assembled some of the leading men of 
 the day. Here a dialogue, something after the fol- 
 lowing, and in a subdued tone of voice, ensued 
 between us : — 
 
 " Well, cousin ; as you are anxious to know a few 
 of the London lions, — you see that gentleman in 
 the corner of the room talking to a lady much taller 
 than himself — that's Mr. Charles Sharp, the cele- 
 brated actor of the Princess's Theatre/' 
 
 "That Mr. Charles Sharp?" enquired my fair 
 cousin, in surprise ; " why, what an insignificant little 
 person, to be sure." 
 
 " The gentleman on his right is Lord Lit tlejohn, 
 at one time Premier of England." 
 
52 SOIBEE. ONEj OR, 
 
 " Is that Lord Littlejohn ? why, he's a more insig- 
 nificant looking person than the last, I declare." 
 
 " The lady on the left of Lord Littlejohn is Miss 
 Mental, the celebrated authoress." 
 
 " What a fright ! I shall never like her works 
 again." 
 
 " The gentleman in front of Miss Mental is Bishop 
 Dogood." 
 
 " You're joking, cousin. That person a bishop ? 
 why he's more like a barber than a bishop, I declare. 
 Don't name any more of 'em, cousin. Yes; there 
 is one whose name I should like to know, for he's 
 just the picture of the finest man in our village — I 
 mean that gentleman in the centre of the room." 
 
 " That's Mr. Alderman Turtle, cousin." 
 
 " Alderman Turtle ! dear me ! he's the very image 
 of young Mr. Jolly who keeps the ' Bull's Head.' ' 
 
 Before my fair cousin left town, a careful examina- 
 tion of the contents of a portfolio of " portraits of 
 living and deceased celebrities " satisfied her that 
 with nature, as with art, the most valuable works are 
 not always in the finest frames. 
 
 To proceed with the story of my life. After the 
 race for pleasure, came the reckoning, ar.d a pretty 
 reckoning it was. Each had hitherto paid his own 
 share in the transaction ; and after a final division 
 and settlement of bills for lodging, &C., my friend, 
 Silas, had a balance of twenty-two shillings in hand, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 53 
 
 while^ on my part, two pounds, ten shillings, alone 
 remained out of my former and entire capital of 
 seven guineas. Of the remnant, my companion re- 
 quired the loan of one guinea, his own being insuffi- 
 cient to convey him again to his country home. 
 Various reasons — most of which have long since 
 escaped my memory — were assigned for the small 
 amount of cash with which he had started, and the 
 consequent necessity for my becoming partner in the 
 monetary responsibility, contrary to a previously 
 expressed note that " Frank's company is all that is 
 required." I only remember that while I was per- 
 fectly satisfied with the causes assigned by my com- 
 panion for what he had not done, the assurance of 
 what he intended to do made me equally happy. 
 I was yet in blissful ignorance of any way of the world 
 that, with precocious talent, would reveal precocious 
 deceit, cunning, or falsehood ; and I never for a 
 moment doubted the sincerity of my early bosom 
 friend, Silas Bloomfield, when he promised to return, 
 by first post after his arrival home, a five pound note 
 in lieu of the guinea. He kindly considered the 
 addition might be found useful; and after I had 
 entered on the duties of a situation the amount could 
 be returned at my own convenience. \Tith this 
 understanding, which strengthened my opinion that 
 Silas was a " nice young fellow," we parted. 
 
 My little knowledge of arithmetic was enough 
 
54 NUMBER OXEj OR, 
 
 to satisfy me that if one week's board and lodging 
 cost fifteen shillings, two weeks ditto would absorb 
 the whole of my thirty shillings ; and thinking it 
 possible, though not probable, that such a thing as a 
 miscarriage might befall the promised five pound 
 note, or that a suitable situation might not fall to 
 my lot during the first week's search for the same, I 
 deemed it desirable to seek a less expensive abode 
 than that which I had shared with my friend Silas. 
 Accordingly, I sought, and soon found, a suitable 
 lodging at six shillings per week. This was to 
 include breakfast ; and having already discovered a 
 restaurant in which I could dine for ninepence, the 
 result of the change would be a saving of four and 
 sixpence a week, or nearly another week's board and 
 lodging for the thirty shillings in hand. Thus, by 
 post, on the same day that my friend took his depar- 
 ture for home, I despatched the address of my new 
 abode — the abode to which that friend's letter, con- 
 taining the promised " five" was to be directed. 
 
 Friend Silas and my own desire for pleasure de- 
 parted together. Night came, and refreshed me with 
 sleep and solitude in my new and, I hoped, temporary 
 dwelling place. 
 
 Early in the morning that launched me on my 
 own individual resources I was up and stirring — 
 anxious for the solution of the all-important question, 
 " which of my epistolary introductions will yield me 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 55 
 
 any, or what service ? " Calling, respectively, on 
 each of the mercantile firms to whom my letters 
 were addressed soon solved the problem. In the 
 following will be found the substance of the reply 
 to each application, together with the result thereof. 
 Xo. 1. 
 
 " I perceive by this letter from one of our country 
 agents, that you wish to obtain a situation in Lon- 
 don. By making enquiries round town, you will, no 
 doubt, find some one who would be glad of a smart 
 country lad, like yourself. I regret we have no 
 vacancy for you here. Good morning/' 
 
 Hereupon the speaker retired to his counting- 
 house ; and as quickly and quietly as a novel position 
 in an office among numerous strangers would permit, 
 I retreated towards the street-door, feeling the first 
 prick on the spirit in no way relieved by a sound 
 that caught my ear from one of the numerous 
 clerks, who said to a brother scribbler, " just twig 
 the cut of his coat." 
 
 Xo. 2. 
 
 " So, young gentleman, you want a situation ? 
 Been accustomed to our sort of business ? Xo ; not 
 been accustomed to any business. Then, I can do 
 nothing for you, my man. TYlien you have served 
 your apprenticeship, you can give us a call." 
 Xo. 3. 
 
 " Letter from our friend, Thomson. TValk in my 
 
56 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 private counting-house and take a seat. Mr. Thom- 
 son, in his letter, tells me you wish to obtain a mer- 
 cantile situation. Most happy to do what I can for 
 you. What premium do your friends intend to pay ? 
 Not any. "Well ; I don't know of a situation that 
 would suit you just at this moment, but — c any would 
 suit you,' you say. Well; I don't know of any, at 
 present. You can look in again, if you like, when 
 you pass this way. Should you return to the country, 
 give my respects to Mr. Thomson. Here, John, 
 show this young gentleman the way out." 
 No. 4. 
 
 " A situation, eh ? In the present state of trade, 
 there's not half work for those who have situations. 
 Mr. Smith knows that as well as I do ; and I'm 
 surprised he should send you to me. You can tell 
 him so. Shall soon want a situation myself, unless 
 things improve. Don't waste your time here, lad ; 
 I've nothing for you." 
 
 Xo. 5. 
 
 " Neither of the firm are within at present. I'm 
 the head clerk. Is your letter on business ? — Yes. 
 Give it to me. You told me it was on business ; 
 it's an application for a situation. You had better 
 call in about half an hour, and see one of the firm ; 
 although we have no vacancy here, except for a 
 light porter." 
 
 At the expiration of half an hour, I called again, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 57 
 
 saw one of the firm, and enquired what duties con- 
 stituted the office of light porter? "With a smile, 
 accompanied by a gentle tap on my shoulder, he 
 said, " the duties are, by far, too heavy for you, my 
 lad. Try elsewhere for something better. Good 
 morning." 
 
 Thus, in a few hours, and by the natural elements 
 I had invoked, was utterly destroyed the epistolary- 
 batch, of hopes on which my mind had for some time 
 rested. It was now four o'clock. I had not par- 
 taken of refreshment since breakfast, and was not 
 less exhausted in body than depressed in mind. But 
 anxiety supplied the place of hunger ; for, like a 
 poor mariner whose last chance is on his last anchor, 
 I made way, as fast as surviving vigor would permit, 
 towards an untried spot, leaving for a while the 
 commercial shallows of despondency for what might 
 prove a welcome harbor — though a political one — 
 of refuge. On reaching the town residence of the 
 Eight Honorable M.P. whose cause my father had 
 often and successfully advocated, I rang the visitor's 
 bell, resolved, if possible, to go direct to head- 
 quarters, without revealing to servants the purport 
 of my mission. 
 
 " What's your pleasure, young man? " enquired a 
 gaily liveried colossus, who appeared to me a much 
 nobler looking fellow than his master. 
 
 " Private business with his lordship," I replied. 
 
58 NUMBER ONE \ OR, 
 
 " His lordship is at present engaged in the 
 library j and unless your business is important he 
 will not see you." 
 
 " My business is very important to me" I said, as 
 courage seemed to strengthen from the effect of the 
 day's defeat. 
 
 " To you it may be, young man, but is it of equal 
 importance to his lordship ? " 
 
 " I hope so. Please to convey to his lordship the 
 name of my father." 
 
 So saying, I gave to my herculean interrogator a 
 slip of paper which I had prepared for the occasion. 
 This proved my immediate passport, for in less than 
 a minute the commanding footman conducted me to 
 the presence of his master, the senior M.P. for my 
 native town. 
 
 " Son of my late respected friend, I presume ? " 
 enquired his lordship, as I entered the library. 
 " Pray be seated. Like other young country gentle- 
 men, you have come to London to see a few of its 
 wonders, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Have seen all I wish to see in that way, my lord." 
 
 " And are now on your way home again, eh ? " 
 
 " Since my father's death and the close of his 
 establishment I have had no country home. I 
 should like to make this my home now, my lord." 
 
 "This! — this house?" quickly repeated his lord- 
 ship in seeming amazement. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 59 
 
 " Pardon me, your lordship, I should have said 
 London — if I can obtain a situation in London." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you will find no difficulty there. You 
 possess, no doubt, the means of introduction to some 
 of our city merchants ? M 
 
 " I regret to say, my lord, I have already exhausted 
 the means — unless your lordship — perhaps your lord- 
 ship may be disposed to appoint me to a situation ? " 
 
 " Quite disposed, if my means accorded with my 
 disposition. However, I will not fail to recommend 
 you to the notice of my friend the Home Secretary ; 
 and should anything transpire to your advantage, I 
 will at once communicate with you. Pray leave me 
 your address." 
 
 Assumed it might have been — but the kind and 
 gentle manner of the noble lord formed a pleasing 
 contrast to the rough and readv treatment I had 
 received from the mercantile gentlemen on whom I 
 had previously called. Extreme politeness and 
 affability on the part of superiors surely tend to 
 pacify, if not to lessen, the wants they may fail to 
 supply. The polite and genial bearing of the noble 
 lord caused me, for a moment, almost to forget, or 
 lose sight of, my chief object with the speaker. In 
 listening to his graceful sentences, I hardly knew, or 
 had time to think, whether the favor I solicited 
 would ultimately be granted or denied, or whether, 
 in fact, his lordship had said anything to lead to a 
 
60 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 direct conclusion either one way or another. Without 
 looking again at the paper I had placed on the table, 
 I was not even sure that I had correctly written my 
 own address. During the brief time my attention 
 was thus occupied, his lordship had rung the bell 
 and requested the presence of the butler, who quickly 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " William," said his lordship, addressing the butler, 
 "let my young friend here be supplied with any 
 refreshment he may require. You have left me your 
 address, have you, young gentleman ? Yes, yes j 
 here it is — quite right, quite right. Good morning 
 to you, good morning, good morning." 
 
 Thus surrounded by artistic splendour, saluted by 
 gracious smiles, and fairly bowed out of one room by 
 a noble lord and into another by his butler, I not 
 only felt a little out of my own element, but hardly 
 knew what to make of that into which I had 
 wandered. Such princely civilities disconcerted me ; 
 yet they seemed to furnish evidence that something 
 more than mere civility was intended. Sitting alone 
 at table, before a sumptuous cold collation of beef, 
 fowl, tongue, tartlets, jellies, wines, &c, and inter- 
 rupted only by an occasional appearance and enquiry 
 on the part of a stately footman, who was anxious 
 to know whether all my wants were supplied, I did 
 not for a moment imagine — what youth unacquainted 
 with the way of the world would ? — that the sweets of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 61 
 
 the repast would be the only ones I should ever taste 
 on the subject that brought roe hither. To have 
 supposed that I then saw before me the alpha and 
 omega of princely generosity would have not onlv 
 evinced, on my part, a want of gratitude for the 
 present hospitality of the noble host, but would have 
 likewise implied a doubt on the sincerity of his future 
 intentions. Could an inexperienced heart think, 
 much less believe, that in the ready acknowledge- 
 ment thus made of the value of political services 
 rendered by a parent would be found a receipt in 
 full ? Or that the youthful guest of a nobleman by 
 whom the acknowledgement was given would live to 
 remember, with sorrow, the only return made for the 
 past services of a sire — when an orphan was the 
 recipient, and a statesman the donor? Xo, gentle 
 reader, I did not think or believe anything of the 
 sort. I took as freely of the good things before me 
 as a mixed feeling of fatigue and excitement would 
 permit, and retired therefrom with the pleasing con- 
 viction that better things were yet in store for me — 
 the greatest consideration uppermost in my mind 
 being, "how many days will elapse before I shall 
 hear from his lordship, and to what sort of situation 
 will he appoint me?" "With the mind thus engaged, 
 the fatigue of the body was unfelt, "till I was sub- 
 sequently informed that I had increased the distance 
 on my return from his lordship's mansion to my own 
 
62 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 lodging by an unnecessary circuit of some two or 
 three miles. 
 
 The week that followed my first day's search for 
 employment was, or seemed to be, the longest in my 
 history. I was in daily expectation of what would 
 have been a twofold boon to my personal state — the 
 appointment to a government situation by a noble- 
 man, and the receipt of a five pound note from a 
 companion who had kindly aided me in spending my 
 own. I tried hard to teach myself a lesson on 
 " patience," and had ample time for the task. The 
 hours of each day and the minutes of each hour 
 were multiplied by suspense. From sunrise to sunset 
 there appeared to be time enough to make a voyage 
 to the Antipodes, and from sunset to sunrise to make 
 the voyage back again. Though becalmed by day, 
 the breeze of excitement at night was not only enough 
 to keep me on the move, but to originate the any- 
 thing but agreeable discovery that the London " lady- 
 birds/' of which I had been forewarned by the gentle 
 Amy, were not identical with the class of " pretty 
 innocent little creatures " with which I had been 
 familiar in the country. Before the expiration of 
 many nights, or rather during the progress or at the 
 close of each night, I was in a condition, from active 
 experience, to endorse Amy's declaration that " new 
 bedstead, bed, and bedding would be found very 
 desirable and of great advantage to a young person 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 63 
 
 just from the country. " During- these days and 
 nights of suspense, other reflections would now and 
 then intrude disagreeable little queries on the mind. 
 Some of these were the reverse of flattering to the 
 solitary object and scantily-furnished lodging by 
 whom and in which they were entertained. They 
 went so far as to submit that I had acted precipi- 
 tately, if not unwisely, in forsaking, so soon, the 
 " sofa-bedstead and bedding " which had been spe- 
 cially prepared for me and my " own use " by the 
 considerate Amy — especially as no London " lady- 
 bird " had there disturbed my rest during the three 
 nights of my tenancy. It was also suggested that, 
 in the financial condition of the reflector, the free 
 board and lodging of Honest John would have been 
 more desirable than that which would completely 
 exhaust the exchequer in about a fortnight, unless 
 the expected five pound note, or the situation should 
 come to hand in the interval. Even the two chapters 
 before breakfast and after supper began to appear 
 trifling obstacles to the comfort of a guest, compared 
 with those which might shortly present themselves. 
 But each and all of these thoughts were pregnant 
 with pain ; and as pain is never a welcome visitor, I 
 tried, though sometimes unsuccessfully, to ally the 
 fate of its numerous offspring to that of the " lady- 
 birds," by an endeavour to drown the tormentors. 
 To return to the "sofa-bedstead," Honest John, and 
 
64 NUMBER ONE, OR, 
 
 Amy, before I had improved my position, was alto- 
 gether out of the question, although the question of 
 " why did I leave them ? " would, in spite of mental 
 opposition, occasionally intrude on the mind. 
 
 Never were expected favors — that ever came to 
 hand — so long as mine in coming. They never came 
 at all. Ten days had already elapsed, and I had 
 neither obtained the hoped-for situation, .nor the 
 promised bank-note, nor had I yet received any 
 information on the subject of either. But what man 
 or woman, boy or girl, is ever quick to abandon the 
 last hope of anything in which self-interest is in- 
 volved, until the thing hoped for has ceased to exist ? 
 Poor Lady Franklin would not believe the case of 
 the lamented Sir John to be hopeless, till she received 
 the record of his burial. Thus, in the most trifling 
 matters of ordinary life, in which we have a personal 
 interest, we hope against hope, so long as we dream 
 of anything to hope for. While, in my own mind, 
 a hundred causes were assigned, and as many excuses 
 made, for my late companion's neglect in not for- 
 warding either the borrowed guinea or the promised 
 addition, that companion never made or, at least, never 
 communicated an excuse on the subject, although 
 three times reminded of his debt and his promise. 
 He was, however, at too great a distance to be per- 
 sonally reached. Not so the noble lord from whom 
 I still expected an appointment, and I therefore 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 65 
 
 resolved to make a second application to his 
 lordship. 
 
 I called again on my lord , hut my lord 
 
 was not at home. When his giant footman opened 
 the door, the butler, who happened to be in the hall 
 at the time, politely informed me that his lordship 
 would not return till late in the evening, but, he 
 continued, " if you will step inside, I should myself 
 like to have a few moments conversation with you, 
 as I hear by your speech that you are a young 
 countryman of mine." The invitation to step inside 
 was at once accepted, although the appended intima- 
 tion that a youth's speech disclosed the district of 
 his nativity rather puzzled a young countryman who 
 was not aware — what young countryman is? — of 
 bearing any oral or local mark for recognition by 
 strangers. 
 
 " I have often heard of your father, young gentle- 
 man/' said the butler, after he had placed a chair for 
 my use, and taken one for his own. "As he has 
 
 been of more service to Lord than his lordship is 
 
 ever likely to be to you, I thought I would just give 
 you a hint, in order to save your time, and prevent 
 disappointment." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, sir," I replied, " but, 
 as you are aware, his lordship has already shown me 
 great kindness." 
 
 " His lordship is ever polite to all comers, but he 
 
 F 
 
06 NTJMBEB ONE; OR, 
 
 has received you with greater hospitality than is 
 usually accorded to applicants for situations. I there- 
 fore, as a friend, now that you have lost your father, 
 tell you not to misconstrue his lordship's kindness 
 by supposing he intends anything more." 
 
 " I thank you, sir, — yet I almost think, al- 
 though his lordship didn't exactly promise me a 
 situation, that " 
 
 " He intended to give you one, eh ? You are but 
 young in politics, and will hardly comprehend me 
 when I tell you that statesmen never positively 
 promise or refuse anything to anybody." 
 
 "That's a strange sort of way," I said, and at 
 that time I thought what I said. " By that way, it 
 will be impossible for people to know what they 
 mean." 
 
 " Just so. That is what they mean," said the 
 butler. 
 
 " I don't precisely understand you, sir," I replied. 
 
 " Then you are just like those who have business 
 with statesmen. Can you understand anyone who 
 never, directly, says yes or no ? " 
 
 " No. I should only understand that as evasion." 
 
 "That word gives you the pith of the matter. 
 Time is the only thing to tell others a stateman's 
 meaning. It is not unfrequently the only thing to 
 tell him of his own meaning, for it often happens 
 that he doesn't himself know what he means. Time 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 67 
 
 will tell you all about your situation ; but, in the 
 mean time, you will find the word evasion playing 
 
 the chief part in anything relating to the subject." 
 
 "But his lordship said he would recommend me 
 to the notice of his friend the Home Secretary." 
 
 " And thus eYade the disagreeable yes or no, by 
 transferring the enquirer to one who has no interest 
 in the enquiry. The Home Secretary may do for 
 you what he has done for hundreds of others — place 
 your name on the list of candidates." 
 
 " If he does that may I not haYe a chance witli 
 others ? " I enquired. 
 
 " Yes ; the chance of remaining on the list till the 
 Secretary, or his successor, takes you off again. 
 Those on the list marked A. 1. are like the funds. 
 They may fluctuate according to circumstances, but 
 they bear interest, and the warrant -holders, our 
 statesmen, are entitled to the dividends. But the 
 unnumbered candidates are merely paltry figures, or 
 sums standing without interest. Till the number 
 ones are exhausted, there is no chance whatever for 
 the others. Had your father lived, you would have 
 been A. 1. and your chance of a situation would 
 then have been a good one." 
 
 " But then I should not have needed a situation." 
 " Consequently, you would have had less difficulty 
 in procuring one. Government situations are not 
 generally given to those who stand most in need of 
 
68 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 them — not to those who want a living", but to those 
 who have the means or interest to obtain it." 
 
 " If, sir, that is the usual way, I am afraid I 
 haven't much chance." 
 
 •" Come along, my young countryman," said the 
 butler, after having vacated his seat and tapped me 
 on the shoulder, " come and join me in a bit of lunch. 
 We'll renew the subject over a sandwich and a glass 
 of ale." 
 
 Hereupon, I followed the gentleman to another 
 apartment, and, at his request, and agreeably with 
 my own inclination, seated myself opposite a dish 
 of sandwiches and a jug of ale. 
 
 " As I told you before," said the newly constituted 
 host, on taking his seat at table, "you are only 
 young in politics, and as they are not likely at 
 present to be of any use to you, I advise you to seek 
 employment elsewhere ; for, after all, the sort of 
 situations given to youths who are not backed by 
 exalted birth or influence are only fit for those who 
 are themselves fit for little else." 
 
 "But, I suppose, there are some young men of 
 talent in government offices, are there not, sir ? " 
 
 " Many — too many," said the host. 
 
 "Yet, a talented young man can generally get on 
 there, can he not ? " 
 
 " Get on ? " exclaimed the facetious and seemingly 
 happy host, with a loud laugh. "Talent in a 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 69 
 
 government clerk becomes like the foot of a fair 
 celestial, through being placed in a position where 
 there is no room for its natural expansion. Did 
 you ever hear of government subordinates becoming 
 great and eminent men, like striplings who rise from 
 the ranks in other professions ? I have noticed, 
 with regret, the monotonous occupation of several 
 young fellows who unfortunately had just enough 
 influence to get appointed to 'easy chairs/ as we call 
 them. Each had talent that would have made way 
 either in the commercial or professional world, but 
 now it is of little or no use to its owner/' 
 
 " Yet, sir, if either had shown a disposition to 
 
 apply it " 
 
 " Tut, tut," interposed the host, with a shake of 
 the head, " When the annual limit of a lad's advance- 
 ment may be found in ten pounds a year, with or 
 without ability on the part of the receiver, where is 
 the advantage of having ability, or at least, of its 
 application?" 
 
 " Then I am surprised that young men of talent 
 don't try to advance themselves in some other way." 
 " True, my lad ; but human nature is not usually 
 active when activity is not positively required. A 
 young man who can jog on through life, even in a 
 donkey cart, on an even course, and at the public 
 expense, doesn't generally try to ascend the hill of 
 fortune, by the application of his own powers. Don't 
 
70 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 you pine for a government situation, if you can get 
 any other. If you can't get another, why you may 
 
 then call on, or write to Lord , though your 
 
 question will, most likely, only be attended by a 
 notification founded on the official rule of evasion." 
 
 After again and again thanking his lordship's 
 butler, and my own considerate host, for his great 
 kindness and valuable advice, I left the nobleman's 
 mansion to which an hour previously I had repaired 
 for employment, with my revised opinion as to the 
 real value of such employment lowered by, at least, 
 fifty per cent. All I had before heard concerning the 
 slow process of advancement in the civil departments 
 of government was now confirmed by one whom I 
 supposed to be something like an authority on the 
 subject ; and I therefore resolved not again to trouble 
 
 Lord , nor to solicit his aid in my behalf, if I 
 
 could in any way aid myself. I also resolved not to 
 accept any situation that might be offered by his 
 lordship, without further solicitation on my part — if 
 by a vigorous search through London, with its atten- 
 dant toil, or even privation, I could only maintain an 
 independent spirit, by procuring employment through 
 my own exertion, unassisted and unfettered by that 
 lordly patronage that is more readily given and ob- 
 tained when not required than when needed. 
 
Cjptjjter &i 
 
 TRY AGAIN. 
 
" Try again/' When I was a very little boy — 
 not more than six or seven years old — my mind 
 received a powerful and, as time has proved, a lasting 
 mpression from the moral of a little song entitled 
 " perseverance/' in which composition a repetition of 
 the above, extract is one of its leading features. 
 Probably the illustration of the subject did some- 
 thing towards the perpetuation of a practical lesson 
 therefrom. As a treat I was one evening taken to an 
 institution in my native town to hear from a learned 
 professor a lecture on " the effects of early training." 
 In order to illustrate what might be accomplished by 
 11 perseverance/' even in the early stages of life, the 
 lecturer, during the evening, arranged a vocal band 
 of children of from four to six years of age. This 
 done, the first signal from his baton drew forth from 
 his pretty little choir such sweet and captivating 
 strains of harmony that I have never forgotten the 
 simple yet commanding words : — 
 
 1 * If at first you don't succeed, 
 
 Try, try, try again ; 
 
 'Tis a lesson you should heed, 
 
 Try, try, try again. 
 
/ 1 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 " Once or twice though you may fail, 
 Try, try, try again ; 
 
 If at last you would prevail, 
 
 Try, try, try again." 
 
 And I did " try again/' From eight in the 
 morning till dusk, day after day, for three successive 
 weeks, I walked from street to street, from east to 
 west, and from north, to south. I penetrated ware- 
 houses, shops, counting-houses, banking-houses, and 
 houses in professions of which I was then, and am 
 still ignorant, while in all manner of strange and 
 mysterious places I tried for success without obtain- 
 ing it. That youth who without trade, profession, 
 or patronage, has himself walked through London in 
 search of employment can alone compass the extent 
 or severity of such a trial. Fatigued in body, de- 
 pressed in mind, often hungry yet afraid to spend 
 one of the few remaining shillings, or even half the 
 amount, for a dinner, in case there might be insuffi- 
 cient for my landlady at the close of the week. Such 
 was my case during the last three days of my three 
 weeks' search for a situation. Yet more severe, far 
 more severe, than the physical toil of the task were 
 the angry frowns and snarling negatives of many of 
 the gentlemen, or rather individuals, on whom I 
 called. Gentlemen invariably give to a courteous 
 question a civil answer. Some such I found among 
 the meanest no less than the highest tradesmen. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 75 
 
 Their kind " would if I could M answers were little 
 gleams of sunshine that encouraged me on the way ; 
 and as I was always hopeful, there ever came to my 
 comfort and assistance the most stimulating of the 
 verses in the song just named : — 
 
 11 If you find your task is hard, 
 
 Try, try, try again ; 
 
 Time will bring you your reward, 
 
 Try, try, try again." 
 
 On the first morning of the fourth week, my own 
 case not only seemed u hard/' but had in reality 
 become serious. It never occurred to me when, 
 with thirty shillings, I embarked in life on my 
 own individual resources, and made arrangements 
 with myself for equalizing the monetary capital in 
 hand, so as to insure board and lodging for three 
 weeks, that anything more than board and lodging 
 would be required. But I was now reminded of a 
 serious error or omission in my youthful and inex- 
 perienced calculations. One after another, certain 
 little wants began to present themselves, not only to 
 present themselves, but to prove, in the presentation, 
 that when a young gentleman has entirely to provide 
 for himself, something beyond, eating, drinking, and 
 sleeping will occasionally be needed. My little stock 
 of dean linen was nearly exhausted. All but the 
 last shirt had been worn, when suddenly, and for the 
 
76 NUMBER ONE; OK, 
 
 first time, the question arose : — " how and by whom 
 are these necessaries again to he made ready for 
 wear ? " At home, they had always been found in 
 my chest of drawers, ready for use when required, 
 but now, when they were wanted as usual, they were 
 not ready. The rain had also made perceptible inroads 
 on the beauty and original shape of my chapeau ; for 
 after the first day — that day happened to be a sunny 
 one — I consigned my umbrella to future obscurity, 
 finding, as I did, that something either in the size, 
 make, or color of the article often attracted more 
 attention than the owner — one gentleman on whom 
 I called having the curiosity to enquire, as he opened 
 out the gingham for inspection, whether it was in- 
 tended as a tent for the use of emigrants. Finding 
 the cause of such remarks to be anything but favor- 
 able to the chief object of a youth in search of a 
 situation, I at once discharged the umbrella from my 
 service, while, in its early doom, I was forcibly 
 reminded of a poor curate in my native town, who 
 was suddenly dismissed from office for having, either 
 by his appearance or by his eloquence, attracted more 
 attention than the vicar — thereby detracting from 
 the importance and dignity of his master. 
 
 But while a questionable looking hat, dirty linen, 
 and sundry other little things, told of wants the 
 supply of which might be postponed for a short 
 time, worse than either of these, in its immediate 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 77 
 
 consequences, was a requirement that would admit 
 of no delay. My only thick pair of walking shoes 
 had for several days furnished their owner with a 
 well grounded report that unless something were 
 done, and that quickly, for arresting the rapid 
 decline of the soles, the toes of these useful articles 
 would not be the only ones with which they were 
 connected that would have openly to salute the 
 pavement at every step, or perhaps, like the un- 
 fortunate umbrella, be subject to the critical remarks 
 of certain curious and unfeeling spectators. The 
 shoes were therefore sent to be mended, but without 
 any enquiry as to the cost of mending the same. 
 To my utter amazement and dismay, the London 
 cobbler, on the completion of his " job," as he called 
 it, made a demand of five shillings and sixpence — 
 one shilling less, I believe, than the original cost of 
 the shoes in my native town. 
 
 Pecuniary embarrassment, at any period of life,, is, 
 no doubt, rather a disagreeable sort of thing.. It 
 was especially so to me during my youthful expe- 
 rience of the world. Yet here I was clearly insol- 
 vent before I had reached my sixteenth birthday. 
 The position was a painful one, but the knowledge 
 that it might have been averted made it still more 
 painful. Although the fellowship of my first and 
 faithless companion was the primary cause of early 
 difficulties, the early adoption of Honest John's 
 
78 NU31BER ONE; OR, 
 
 timely, but unheeded, advice would have prevented 
 all. His friendly counsel was disregarded, and 
 juvenile insolvency is the result. Although the 
 deficiency is not, at present, large, there is the 
 gloomy prospect of its daily enlargement. The 
 cobbler's bill was the immediate cause of the deficit. 
 The bill was three shillings more than I expected it 
 would be. This paid, I had a balance in hand of 
 rive shillings, and my inventive powers on a subject 
 of finance would admit of no calculation, > though 
 taxed to the utmost, by which I could, with the 
 amount named, discharge, in full, a bill of six 
 shillings and sixpence. This amount was now due 
 to the landlady for a week's board and lodging, or 
 rather for lodging and breakfast — the only daily 
 meal of which I had partaken during the latter 
 half of the closing week. I therefore resolved, 
 before matters grew worse, or that anyone could 
 accuse me of going on too long without making my 
 affairs known to others when they were patent to 
 myself, at once to hold a meeting of my creditor — 
 the landlady. On the dirty little servant girl re- 
 moving the remains of the breakfast of which I had 
 freely partaken, — thinking it might possibly be the 
 last for some time — I desired her to tell her mistress 
 I should be glad to speak with her. Never have I 
 forgotten, never can I forget, the interview that fol- 
 lowed — an interview in which a woman created on 
 
THE WAY OP THE WORLD. 79 
 
 my mind an impression the very opposite of that 
 which has since been produced by tlie great majority 
 of those of the sex with whom I have had the good 
 fortune to become acquainted. 
 
 At the close of each of the two preceding weeks, 1 
 gave to the servant the amount due for lodging, &c, 
 to convey to her mistress. On this occasion the de- 
 livery of a message, in place of the money, had the 
 immediate effect of seeming the requisite meeting 
 for disclosing my embarrassed position. 
 
 " Kitty says you wish to speak to me/' said Mrs. 
 Pepper, as she entered the cheerless little room of 
 which I was the tenant. " I've brought up your bill," 
 she continued, at the same time giving me a small 
 slip of paper on which was written :- — 
 
 " One week bed and breakfast, 6s. 6d. 
 
 Paid, 
 
 C. Pepper^ 
 
 "Pray, take a seat, Mrs. Pepper," I said. 
 
 " Lor bless ye, I aint time for sitting at any time 
 a dav, specially mornings ; too many comings and 
 o-oin^s in a house like this ; one married couple, and 
 a single young man going to-day ; some people are 
 never satisfied long anywhere; but I never did 
 and never shall like women, specially as lodgers; 
 sooner do for a dozen young men than one woman. 
 I've brought up your bill, young man." 
 
SO NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Pepper; the bill is the subject on 
 which I wished to see you. You have written "paid" 
 on it, but I regret to say I shall not be able to dis- 
 charge your bill this week." 
 
 « Not — not pay your bill ? " reiterated the land- 
 lady with an air of indignant surprise. " Not pay 
 your bill, did you say ? *' 
 
 " I said I could not discharge it this week." 
 
 " Then, if that's the case, young man, you'd better 
 discharge yourself, and save my son the trouble a 
 doing it for you. We don't want people here as can't 
 pay ; but, in course, your box must remain till we're 
 satisfied, though the sooner you go the better. Not 
 pay, indeed ? Who sent you to lodge here — some- 
 body else as you couldn't pay, I s'pose ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Pepper, if you will only allow me to " 
 
 "I'll allow nothing, sir, afore you pay your bill. 
 Why, we let you in at a shilling a week less than 
 our reg'lar terms, because you was rather young ; and 
 we took ourselves in at the bargain, as no three full- 
 grown men in the house eats half the breakfast as 
 you do. They satisfy theirselves overnight afore 
 they come home. I'll never take another from the 
 country who goes to bed at nine, sleeps to grow 
 hungry, and gets up to take it out of his breakfast, 
 at the cost of his landlady. But if you can't pay, 
 you'd better go." 
 
 " If you'll only allow me. Mrs. Pepper, I will tell 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 81 
 
 you that I have been in daily expectation of a five 
 pound note from the country, in addition to a guinea 
 borrowed by a companion before he left London. I 
 also hoped to have obtained a situation before this." 
 
 " Hopes and disappointments is all very well in 
 their way," said the landlady, pointing to the dirty 
 slip of paper she had placed on the table, " but hopes 
 and disappointments don't pay bills. And now I 
 remember, we never had a reference with you, young 
 man ; that is, we didn't go for one. You told us not 
 to call on that John — somebody, somewheres in 
 Islington; but my daughter took the address, and 
 now we'd better see what he knows about you." 
 
 " For mercy sake, Mrs. Pepper, don't call there ; I 
 would not have you call on John for the world." 
 
 " Not for the world, and you can't pay six and 
 sixpence ? " said the landlady as she was on the point 
 of retiring. 
 
 " If you delay your call on John, I will use every 
 effort to pay you to-morrow. Five shillings I can 
 s;ive you at once, if you will only allow the balance 
 of eight eenpence to remain for a short time ? " 
 
 "You might have told me that before," said Mrs. 
 Pepper, in a subdued tone. " In course, everybody 
 knows that eighteenpence is less to lose than six and 
 sixpence, so I'll take the five shillings." 
 
 " I hope, Mrs. Pepper, you may not lose a farthing 
 by me ; and if you will not call on John to-day, I 
 
 G 
 
82 NUMBER ONE, OR, 
 
 will endeavour— nay, I will engage to pay you the 
 balance of your bill to-morrow." 
 
 " Then, I will give you till to-morrow to pay it," 
 replied the considerate landlady, as she took the 
 receipted bill, with five shillings I had placed thereon, 
 and retired from my apartment. 
 
 After this severe castigation, I sallied forth on 
 another day's search for employment, but without the 
 requisite nerve or composure for making a single 
 application — the want of eighteenpence having com- 
 pletelv obscured the more important want of a 
 situation. Having wandered to and fro for two 
 hours, or more, in an unenviable state of anxiety, I 
 returned to my lodging for the purpose of ascer- 
 taining whether any small article of which I was the 
 owner could be converted into the trifling, yet all- 
 important monetary sum required. At this moment, 
 I imagined that the immediate acquisition of eighteen- 
 pence would not only satisfy a resolute and curious 
 woman, but also stay from Honest John a disclosure 
 I so much dreaded — the penniless and friendless 
 position to which I had been reduced through my 
 own imprudence, in having rejected that kind advice 
 and assistance, of which I now felt myself unworthy. 
 And I was too much ashamed of my unworthiness 
 ao-ain to accept or solicit what I had before accepted 
 only to discard. 
 
 A^ain I entered the lodging that I was now 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 83 
 
 anxious to quit for ever. The sight of the place 
 terrified me, but the remembrance of her who made 
 it terrible terrified me still more. Openly accused 
 of " eating as much as any three full-grown men in 
 the house/' how could I reconcile myself either to 
 the place or my accuser? If I had a craving 
 stomach, I had a sensitive mind; and as one could 
 only, in future, be satisfied at the expense of the 
 other, I clearly foresaw that my morning meal, the 
 only daily one of which I had recently partaken, 
 would have to be considerably reduced. Two slices 
 of bread and butter, instead of six, must be the 
 maximum — otherwise, if on any particular occasion 
 the " three full-grown lodgers " should not happen 
 to " satisfy theirselves overnight," my very slumber 
 might be disturbed by a trio of apparitions, preceded 
 or followed by that of the landlady, each and all 
 demanding the bread and butter of which they had 
 been defrauded. 
 
 While turning out the contents of my chest in 
 cmest of some convertible relic with which to satisfy 
 Mrs. Pepper, and ease my own mind, I was suddenly 
 interrupted by the self-same individual whose exact- 
 ing doctrines had two hours previously been pro- 
 pounded at the expense of her tenant's nerves. But 
 the woman was changed, or there was a change in 
 the woman. In person, she was evidently the same, 
 but in manner and speech she was another being. 
 
84? >TMBER 0>"E J OR, 
 
 The sudden transformation, or eause thereof, was at 
 this moment a riddle the solution of which was 
 unfathomable. 
 
 " You're not a packing up, young gentleman, are 
 you?" said Mrs. Pepper, as she entered my apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh dear, no j but as my box is to remain here 
 till you are satisfied, I was just placing the contents 
 in something like order." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! I was only a joking you this morn- 
 ing, young man. Why, didn't you think when I 
 was a talking to you about going and all that, that 
 it was only a joke ? n 
 
 "Indeed, Mrs. Pepper, I did not. I thought, and 
 think it something more than a joke." 
 
 " Well, well ; don't think anything more about it. 
 We've been talking the matter over, and my daughter 
 considers you a very steady young man ; we are a 
 going to do all we can for you, so make yourself 
 quite at home, and if there's anything you want 
 why you've only to say so. There ! I've placed your 
 five shillings on the table on the very spot where it 
 stood this morning, so you see I was only a joking. 
 The money, you know, may be useful to you, and, in 
 course, I don't want it ; and as for this week's or 
 next week's bill, or the one arter for the matter a 
 that, you needn't uncompose yourself in the least 
 about it ; I know you means well, and I shall get my 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 85 
 
 money some day, and if I don't, why it will be no 
 fault a mine — I mean no fault a yours, as I'm sure 
 you'll pay when you has it in your power. But 
 remember, I was only a joking this mornincr. Why, 
 as I live, your breakfast thing's arn't cleared away, 
 and it's near upon one o'clock. I'll take 'em down 
 at once, as I've got something to send up as you'll 
 not object to." 
 
 HereupoD, Mrs. Pepper left the room. At the 
 expiration of a few moments the door was re-opened, 
 when Kitty, the dirty little servant girl, entered the 
 apartment with a small tea tray which she placed on 
 the table that had just been enriched with five shil- 
 lings from the hands of her mistress. 
 
 "If you please, sir," said Kitty, as she arranged 
 the ends of the cloth that covered the tray, " missus 
 says she thought you might like broad beans and 
 bacon, and as she's a having some for dinner, she 
 thought she'd send you up a little. You'll find the 
 cabbage in the white basin and the porter in the blue 
 jug. Missus says you'll please ring if you wants 
 anything." 
 
 Hereupon Kitty also left the room. As for me, I 
 was altogether in a fog, with my senses so mystified 
 by the mortal maze in which I was enclosed, that I 
 knew not what to think, or whither to proceed. 
 But hunger was, at this moment, too keen for the 
 inaction of the body, or for the reflection of a 
 
86 NTJMBEB ONE J OR, 
 
 sensitive or modest mind. Amid the prevailing mist, 
 the sense of smell was so strong, that Mrs. Pepper's 
 heans and bacon attracted my personal attention 
 before I had time to consider either the mystery 
 that surrounded, a welcome repast, or the still greater 
 mystery attached to a woman, who on the same day 
 had surprised me by the representation of two 
 characters, each the very opposite of the other. 
 When I had finished beans, bacon, cabbage, porter 
 and all, I not only felt better, but truly grateful for 
 the timely gift ; at the same time, I felt that nothing 
 on earth would ever make me respect the giver. A 
 certain antipathy towards my landlady had sprung 
 up in my breast — a mortal horror, mixed with fear, 
 such as I never remember to have entertained either 
 before or since that period. Although a few weeks' 
 experience of the way of the world had already con- 
 firmed me in the belief that I should meet with 
 many strange characters on my journey, Mrs. Pepper 
 was the strangest I had yet encountered. 
 
 The day was altogether an eventful one. No 
 sooner had Kitty removed the empty plates and 
 dishes, than she brought to me an official letter that 
 had been forwarded from Downing Street. This was 
 a reply to a written application made on the pre- 
 ceding day. The answer came too soon to be the 
 herald of welcome intelligence. It simply confirmed 
 a portion of the information I had previously received 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 87 
 
 from the butler of the nobleman to whom I had 
 applied for a situation. Time has proved the rest of 
 the butler's prophecy — the following note being the 
 last I have ever heard on the subject to which it 
 relates : — 
 
 " Downing Street, June 10th. 
 " Sir, 
 
 u I am directed by Lord to inform you that 
 
 your name has been placed on the list of candi- 
 dates for situations under government. 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " HENRY ." 
 
 This letter had scarcely been deposited with other 
 equally valuable documents in my chest, when Kitty, 
 on. presenting me with a very diminutive parcel, 
 informed me that " It had been left by a young man 
 who told missus Frank might guess the person who 
 sent it." Kitty also said, as she was leaving the 
 room, " missus told the gentleman that valuable 
 things is generally wrapped in small parcels." 
 
 The remark of the " missus " was certainly appli- 
 cable to the present case, as the parcel was small, and 
 the contents — to me — very valuable. The guinea 
 borrowed by my supposed friend and early companion, 
 Silas Bloomfield, was now, at least as I imagined, 
 returned to the lender, although the little bit of 
 
88 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 brown paper, and the message delivered by Kitty, 
 alone escorted the prodigal coin on its return. There 
 was nothing else to indicate from whom it came, or 
 whither it had so long strayed from its rightful 
 owner. But my friend had been my first and only 
 debtor, and as the amount returned was identical 
 with that borrowed, how could I " guess " that any 
 other person had had a hand in the business ? The 
 absence of all written communication on the subject 
 I attributed to my friend's inability or disinclination 
 for an exchange of friendly relationship. Had the- 
 guinea been enclosed in the promised bank-note 
 instead of in a bit of brown paper, the order of things 
 would have been reversed. As it was, I concluded 
 that my companion had acted honestly in the dis- 
 charge of his own debt, but not equally so with 
 regard to the fulfilment of a promise that would have 
 made his friend his debtor. 
 
 A large portion of the guinea was soon disposed 
 of. Mrs. Pepper was at once summoned to the 
 presence of one whom she had just comforted with 
 beans and bacon ; and notwithstanding a fresh dis- 
 play of generosity, on her part, in stating that imme- 
 diate payment of her bill was not required, I insisted 
 on discharging not only the past but the present 
 week's account. I was now out of debt, had a small 
 cash balance in hand, and was comparatively happy. 
 Wilhout knowing what character my serio-comic 
 
THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 89 
 
 landlady might next assume, I knew it would be out 
 of her power for some few days, at least, to accuse 
 me of being her monetary debtor. But there still 
 hung on my memory the more unpalatable accusation 
 of u having eaten for breakfast more than any three 
 full-grown men in the house." However much I 
 might have relished the morning meal, while ignorant 
 of the crime I was committing, I was totally unable 
 to stomach an accusation that would, in future, lessen 
 the enjoyment of a necessary repast. Fearing that, 
 without a considerable reduction in that repast, I 
 might again be called on to plead to a former charge, 
 I felt that my final departure from the establishment 
 would be the only way to make me independent of it, 
 and place me be}~ond the reach of its complex owner. 
 How was this to be accomplished ? — only by obtain- 
 ing a situation. With my small capital, I had no 
 heart to enter another lodging-house, thinking I 
 might fare worse than I had already done, and 
 eventually get no breakfast at all. The day was 
 only half spent, and I at once resolved to go forth 
 and " try again " for employment. 
 
 In passing through a part of the city not far from 
 Finsbury Square, my attention was attracted to a 
 shop or office window in which, among a variety of 
 announcements of vacant situations for persons of 
 almost every grade and profession, from a pot-boy to 
 a private secretary, appeared the following : — 
 
90 
 
 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 " Wanted, for first-class commercial establishments, 
 a few respectable youths and young men from the 
 country." 
 
 Here was a sight to cheer a heart drooping with 
 despair ! How strange I had not seen the office or 
 the announcement before. Is it a dream or a pleasing 
 reality ? Half a dozen perusals of the notice, and as 
 many passes to and fro in front of the window in 
 which it appeared, convinced me there was no dream- 
 ing on my part, whatever there might be on the 
 part of those who had displayed a signal that stood 
 as an inviting beacon to my long delayed desire. 
 But, as the brightest hopes are often shaded by a 
 passing cloud, my mind was suddenly depressed by 
 the supposition that the vacant places might have been 
 filled, although the announcement of the vacancies 
 still remained. The gentleman within the office had 
 perhaps omitted to remove the notice when the wants 
 of the publisher had been supplied. With a heart 
 agitated alike by hope and fear, I entered the office 
 whence the excitement originated. 
 
 " I have called on the subject of a notice which 
 appears in your window," I said to a man of respect- 
 able appearance, who sat behind the counter reading 
 a newspaper. 
 
 " Which notice do you mean ? " enquired the 
 gentleman. 
 
 " That which states that a few youths and young 
 men from the country are wanted/' 
 
THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 01 
 
 "Under which class do you consider yourself; 
 because we make some difference in the charge ; 
 youths have not quite so much to pay as young 
 men/ 5 
 
 " Pay ! " I exclaimed in astonishment. " I don't 
 want a situation where there is anything to pay, but 
 one in which a young person would be paid for his 
 services." 
 
 " Precisely. Such are the situations we profess to 
 supply ; but, of course, we are paid for. supplying 
 them. It is our business. In the same manner that 
 you expect to be paid for your services, we, in the 
 first place, expect to be paid for ours. But I perceive 
 you are fresh from the country." 
 
 Here the speaker was stopped, or stopped himself, 
 through the appearance of a young woman, who at 
 this moment entered the office, and said : — 
 
 "If you please, master, what's your charge for 
 getting a place for under-housemaid ? " 
 
 " Take a seat in the inner room, and as soon as I 
 am disengaged I'll speak to you." 
 
 The girl obeyed the command, and the commander 
 closed the door of the room into which she entered. 
 
 u Our charge for a commercial situation for a 
 respectable youth, like yourself, is five shillings," 
 continued the gentleman. 
 
 " I shall be most happy to pay that amount, sir," 
 I replied, taking from my pocket a purse that con- 
 
92 NUMBER ONE; OE, 
 
 tained but little more. " What will be the character, 
 
 and what the duties of the situation ? " 
 
 "Character — commercial, and of the first class. 
 Its duties will relate to commerce, of course." 
 
 "You'll find five shillings there, sir/' I said, 
 placing" on the counter that amount, which was 
 immediately transferred by the official to his own 
 pocket. " TVill you please to inform me what day I 
 may prepare for work ? " 
 
 The answer to this question was delayed by a 
 youth about my own age, who entered the office and 
 said : — 
 
 "Can I see the gentleman who wants a young 
 man from the country ? " 
 
 "Walk in this room and take a seat," said the 
 official, as he opened and closed the door of the 
 inner room. " "What did you say in reference to 
 work ? " he enquired, again turning his attention to 
 me. 
 
 " I merely wish to know when I am to get ready 
 for my situation," I replied. 
 
 " Soon as the situation is ready for you, of course." 
 
 " But how soon will that be, sir, if you please ? " 
 
 " My good lad, I don't profess to be a prophet as 
 well as an agent. I will do the best I can for you 
 in my own profession, and I promise to place your 
 name on our commercial list this very day," 
 
 The word u list " produced on my nervous 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 93 
 
 system a momentary shock by no means agreeable. 
 It was an immediate reminder of the " government 
 list" on which my name had already been placed, 
 without — as I was informed — any chance of securing 
 the desire of its owner. After I had partially re- 
 covered from the effects of the electric thrill, I told 
 the official, who was evidently anxious to engage his 
 clients in the inner room, that although my name 
 had already been placed on one list, I 
 
 " I can't help that/' said the agent, interrupting 
 me. " "We have no connexion with any other estab- 
 lishment/' 
 
 "But I am anxious, if possible, to get into a 
 situation at once," I said. 
 
 " If so, you had better pay the extra or special 
 fee," said the agent. "Then your case will be 
 marked urgent. This will cost you another half- 
 crown." 
 
 " Then, sir, may I depend on the situation " 
 
 " At the earliest moment we can obtain it for you. 
 Indeed, you may call on me early to-morrow morn- 
 ing, when I shall probably be disengaged. We will 
 then go into the subject of remuneration, namely, 
 what salary you would require. Would a merchant's 
 office suit you ? " 
 
 " Exactly," I replied. 
 
 " Well. This is but seldom or ever obtained, except 
 in special cases. You are a stranger to me, but if you 
 take my advice, you'll pay the extra fee at once." 
 
01 NTJMBEE ONE; OR, 
 
 Although I had some slight misgivings respecting 
 the character and husiness of the gentleman to whom 
 I had already paid five shillings, my wavering doubts 
 were not unlike those of a tradesman who has sud- 
 denly become suspicious of a debtor. He is rather 
 inclined to enlarge a doubtful account than jeopardize 
 all by immediate stoppage. I therefore paid the extra 
 fee for a special case, feeling at the same time any- 
 thing but sure that the services of the a^ent whom I 
 had engaged to conduct it would be found worth the 
 seven shillings and sixpence paid to secure them. 
 On returning to my lodging with an empty purse, it 
 occurred to me that I had again deviated from the 
 course advised by Honest John. The disposal of my 
 three half-crowns told me that I had been trusting 
 for aid to another, instead of to number one. 
 
 My worst fears on the subject were soon confirmed. 
 The agent of respectable appearance and plausible 
 address, whom I had just trusted, happened to be one 
 of those London sharpers that .are ever and anon 
 devising some trap for catching the unwary. Al- 
 though his bait was prepared only for small fry, — 
 such as unsuspecting country lads, cooks, clerks, 
 kitchen-maids, and the like, the angler himself was, 
 nevertheless, practising, on a minor scale, the art of 
 those who spread their nets for greater game. He 
 was a miniature type of those gigantic swindlers who 
 year after year vary the style of their materials, and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 95 
 
 introduce into their new schemes changes as striking 
 and attractive as any that were ever designed by 
 French milliners as " novelties for the season." 
 Whether the honest inventors of fashion for the 
 adornment of the human figure are,, or are not more 
 numerous than the professional authors of designs 
 for concealing the blackest dyes of the human heart, 
 may be a question beyond mathematical solution. 
 But whatever may be the number of the first class, 
 that of the second, if computed at all, must be 
 measured by that indefinite number known as 
 legion. When will the English government intro- 
 duce into " Census Papers " space to enable gen- 
 tlemen, in the extensive profession alluded to, to fill 
 in a correct return ? It is hardly right that so large 
 a portion of the community should have their names 
 recorded only in that miscellaneous compilation of 
 persons to be found under the head of " Court 
 Directory." In the way of bubble companies, 
 British ■ bank directors, promoters of annuity and 
 other societies, established for the benefit of the 
 founders, together with a host of individual Red- 
 paths, Robsons, and Pullingers, there surely must 
 have been, of late, individuals sufficiently numerous 
 to have entitled them — if not for their own benefit, 
 at least for the benefit of the public — to their proper 
 place in the " Classification of Trades." It is to be 
 hoped that in such classification, at least in our 
 
96 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 Directories, the omission may be supplied, and that 
 the name of " swindler/' now that the profession 
 has become an extensive one, may in future be found 
 in alphabetical order, and not, as is too often the case, 
 entered with other trades under an inappropriate 
 heading. 
 
 The swindling agent who had alternately excited 
 my hopes and fears, at the serious cost — to me — of 
 three half-crowns, gave me but little further trouble, 
 beyond that which was occasioned by the loss of my 
 money. The day after I had paid him two morning 
 visits, each of which was unceremoniously ended by 
 "call a^ain to-morrow," I found his office closed. 
 It was inaccessible beyond the exterior. During my 
 short stay in the vicinity, numerous victims bom- 
 barded the door, and, with anything but " blessings " 
 for the absentee, made several ineffectual attempts 
 to effect an entrance into the apartments of the 
 fugitive. On the following day, the Times news- 
 paper brought the agent's history, so far as my 
 interest was concerned, to an ignominious close. 
 The Lord Mayor consigned him to prison, for three 
 months, for having obtained, and disposed of a young 
 man's gold watch, under promise of securing for its 
 owner a situation of greater value than the article he 
 had purloined. 
 
 The discovery, on my part, that the services of the 
 faithless a^ent were for a time to be confined to the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 97 
 
 treadmill was purely accidental. The newspaper in 
 which the statement appeared was not examined by 
 me for information either on criminal, political, or 
 general subjects. I had another and more important 
 object in its perusal. By day I walked through 
 London in search of employment, and at night I 
 searched the newspaper merely as a supplement to 
 my daily endeavours. I had for some time been one 
 of that countless number of individuals — comprising 
 everv age, profession, and denomination — who wade 
 through the advertising columns of the Times in 
 pursuit of better fortune. Here again, on the same 
 day and in the same paper that made me acquainted 
 with the temporary suspension of the business career 
 of one who had deceived me, I again beheld the 
 very mirror that reflected my wish in the following 
 advertisement : — " Wanted, for a large wholesale 
 house, a respectable and well-educated youth. The 
 situation is one that will require activity and perse- 
 verance. Address, by letter only, pre-paid, (in ap- 
 plicant's own handwriting) to Messrs. Fountain, 
 
 Pillar, and Branch, Street, City." 
 
 To this attractive announcement, as to many 
 others that had at various times preceded it, I 
 immediately applied all the mental force at my 
 command. But the heart, in the repeated venture 
 of its fondest hopes, may become so accustomed to 
 disappointment that disappointment itself may al- 
 
98 
 
 most lose its sting. My disappointments had now 
 been so numerous that, in this instance, I anticipated 
 an addition to the number. All my written and 
 personal applications had hitherto been made without 
 avail ; yet, in moments of dark despair, my depressed 
 spirits still retained a spark from that long-cherished 
 injunction that again and again fanned into a flame 
 a resolution to " try again." So, I sat clown and 
 filled a sheet 3 the powerful appeal in which might, I 
 thought, — if the advertiser in early life had only 
 happened to have been in the applicant's position — 
 command from a sympathetic and generous heart 
 that attention which would insure for the author 
 a reply stamped with the seal of success. 
 
 When my studied phraseology had been duly 
 committed to paper, I resolved to expedite the 
 delivery of the letter by taking it myself. Although 
 the advertisement said "apply by letter only," I 
 considered that the personal delivery of the epistle 
 would be in strict accordance with the advertiser's 
 orders, no mention being made of any particular 
 person by whom letters should be forwarded, nor 
 that applicants might not, if they felt disposed, 
 save the postage by becoming their own postmen. 
 Notwithstanding the loss of my three half-crowns, 
 I was still rich in the possession of five shillings 
 which had been taken from, and returned to me by 
 my considerate landlady ; but deeming it desirable 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 99 
 
 to keep this amount intact, in case the lady might 
 repeat the tragic part she had already played, at the 
 expense of my nerves, I considered it prudent to 
 save even the small sum I should have had to pay 
 for postage, by becoming my own letter carrier. 
 
 Next to its extensive docks and shipping, there 
 is, perhaps, nothing of a commercial character in 
 England's greatest city capable of exciting so much 
 surprise in the mind of a stranger as a walk through 
 some of the large wholesale warehouses. The mag- 
 nificent sight at once presented to the view, on 
 entering any first-class wholesale establishment — 
 the brilliant and substantial display of every class 
 of goods, both British and foreign — cannot fail to 
 excite a greater degree of interest, if not surprise, 
 with a stranger, than that occasioned by an inspec- 
 tion of our enormous docks, in which wealth can 
 only be viewed in unsightly and unbroken bulk. 
 The man who forms an opinion of London's city by 
 a mere promenade through, and survey of its prin- 
 cipal streets, is about the same distance from a just 
 conception of his subject as the groundwork of the 
 Pacific is supposed to be from the surface of its 
 waters. 
 
 On entering the warehouse of Messrs. Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch, the outward gloomy appearance 
 of which furnished but a faint idea of its valuable 
 contents, I was almost unnerved by surprise. The 
 
100 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 vast extent of the premises — the innumerable and 
 immense piles of goods which stood below, around, 
 and towered above me, together with the numerous 
 body of busy warehousemen by whom I was sur- 
 rounded, completely stupified my senses with wonder. 
 Enquiring for the principal of the firm, I was in- 
 formed by one of the warehousemen that Mr. Foun- 
 tain was not in the way, nor likely to be for some 
 time, as he had just left for his country house, and 
 that when in town his visits to the warehouse were 
 but few, short, and very uncertain. On asking for 
 Mr. Pillar, I was told that Mr. Pillar was in 
 Man Chester, but that Mr. Branch would be found 
 in his private counting-house at the end of the 
 warehouse. 
 
 On this information, I proceeded through the 
 centre of the establishment in search of the counting- 
 house ; but I soon found it necessary to make further 
 enquiries, for the place was so strangely divided and 
 subdivided by endless masses of merchandize, that I 
 at first turned to the right and then to the left, till 
 the interior of the premises appeared like some huge 
 commercial maze — while those young men who were 
 acquainted with my object seemed amused in leaving 
 me to find it as best I could. At length, announcing 
 my arrival at the counting-house by a gentle tap on 
 the door, an immediate invitation — " come in " — in 
 a sonorous voice, at once introduced me to the junior 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 101 
 
 partner of the firm, who was seated at his desk busily 
 engaged in writing. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir, for interrupting you, but I 
 merely wish to deliver this letter," I said. 
 
 " Letter — from whom ? " enquired Mr. Branch. 
 
 "From — from myself, sir," I nervously replied. 
 
 " On what subject ? " said Mr. Branch. 
 
 " It's an application for a situation, sir, if you 
 please." 
 
 " Comply with the conditions of the advertisement 
 and apply by letter," continued the gentleman, with- 
 out taking his pen from paper or staying the work 
 on which he was engaged. 
 
 " I have already done that, sir, and also taken the 
 liberty of placing the letter on the desk before you." 
 
 " Then, unless you deem your letter of more im- 
 portance to me than that on which I am engaged, 
 you may go." 
 
 " Good morning, sir," was my reply. 
 
 On withdrawing from the presence of Mr. Branch, 
 the only return to my parting salute was a side 
 glance from that gentleman towards my person as I 
 closed the door of the office : When I had regained 
 the street, a loud tap on the warehouse window, 
 accompanied by a signal from a young man within, 
 had the effect of again bringing me into the estab- 
 lishment, when I was told to return to the office I 
 had just left, as Mr. Branch wished to see me. 
 
102 number one; or, 
 
 I had often before heard that a sudden surprise 
 may have the effect of sending the human heart into 
 its owner's mouth, but at this moment mine appeared 
 to be making' violent efforts to escape from bondage 
 altogether. As I tremulously returned to the private 
 counting-house of Mr. Branch, certain rapid heavings 
 in a sensitive region told me I might have to appear 
 before my late inquisitor without any heart at all. 
 Faint as was my chance of success in the simple 
 order issued by a gentleman for another interview, or 
 second sight, it, nevertheless, was the only glimmer 
 even of distant hope I had yet seen in any of my 
 fruitless endeavours. The novelty of the little spark 
 was so exciting that it actually made me tremble for 
 its vitality, or through fear of its early extinction. 
 In this state I re-entered the counting-house of Mr. 
 Branch, who was now engaged, not in writing his 
 own letter but in reading mine. The fevered pulse 
 of the most feverish of patients never reached a 
 higher rate of speed than was attained by mine 
 during the few silent moments occupied by Mr. 
 Branch in reading my appeal for a situation. The 
 acuteness of the sensation was intense, and its inten- 
 sity was rather increased than diminished by the 
 first few words that broke silence only to agitate 
 suspense : — 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Mr. Branch, as he laid the 
 letter on his desk. " What was the name? " he said, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 103 
 
 agrain looking at the signature. " Frank '. — Frank is 
 it? "Well; the letter seems frank enough certainly. 
 It tells me you are an orphan ; but you are neither 
 better nor worse for that, I suppose ? You appear 
 YerY anxious for something to do ; what are you fit 
 for,' lad ? " 
 
 Beyond the involuntary liquid drop the occasion 
 gaYe rise to, an ineffectual moYement of the lips was 
 the only reply. 
 
 " Oh ! if that's all you're fit for, Fm afraid you — 
 sit down, lad, sit down." 
 
 A seat was a relief, at least, to the body. As my 
 interrogator extended the interYal of silence by look- 
 ing at his newspaper, I felt that any silly and obtru- 
 siYe tear that comes when it is not wanted ought to 
 ha Ye been previously buried in the bosom of the 
 ocean. To the utmost depths thereof did I wish 
 consigned that which now discomposed me. 
 
 " How long have you been in London ? " enquired 
 Mr. Branch, with his eyes rather than his attention 
 directed to the newspaper. 
 
 " Fi — fi — nearly six weeks, sir." 
 
 " You say in your letter you are ready to engage 
 in anything in which you would have an opportunity 
 of working your way upward? Lads too often pro- 
 mise what they fail to perform. You mean what you 
 say, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Always, sir." 
 
104 number one; or, 
 
 11 And intend to practise what you promise ? " 
 " If I could only have the chance, sir." 
 " Then you shall have it," said Mr. Branch. 
 A^ain I was almost overcome — no longer with 
 suspense but joy — but encouragement now made 
 strength of mind too powerful for a second display of 
 weakness in another region. 
 
 u The terms on which youths are received into our 
 establishment are these : — They receive, in return for 
 three years' service, board and lodging, together with 
 such knowledge of the department in which they 
 may be placed as may be acquired by their own in- 
 dustry and ability. We never accept a premium, 
 nor retain in our employ any one not worthy reten- 
 tion. On the other hand, the services of a youth 
 have sometimes been found sufficiently meritorious to 
 entitle him to some pecuniary mark of recognition 
 before the expiration of his term. As a preliminary 
 step to this arrangement, we generally receive a 
 youth for two or three months on trial. Are you 
 prepared for the first test ? " 
 
 " Quite prepared, sir, and will do my best." 
 "That will be your business; it will be ours to 
 estimate the value of your best. With what friend 
 or relation do you now reside ? " 
 
 " At present, sir, I am in lodgings." 
 " Lodgings ! Then, whom do you expect, during 
 your three years' term, to supply you with clothes ? " 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 105 
 
 " I — I think, sir, I have nearly enough to last that 
 time." 
 
 " Well/' said Mr. Branch, with a smile, " I will 
 write to one of the gentlemen in your native town to 
 whom you refer. Should he have nothing to say to 
 your disadvantage, you may enter on your duties in 
 this establishment at nine o'clock in the morning on 
 the first of the ensuing month." 
 
 Experience induces me to believe that great excite- 
 ment at any important moment, while it impresses 
 the mind with the chief object, tends to mystify or 
 efface the details of any incident from which such 
 excitement may arise. Soon after the period of the 
 above-named interview I attempted to discover, but 
 have not yet discovered, the manner in which I took 
 leave of Mr. Branch, after having received the joyful 
 announcement of my first commercial engagement. 
 According to the natural cause of things, I must 
 have passed from that gentleman's presence, through 
 the warehouse, into the street. But the mode of my 
 escape has ever been a mystery. From the close of 
 the sentence that told me I was to enter on my duties 
 in the establishment on the first of the ensuing 
 month, till I found that on going backward at the 
 corner of the street to get a good view of the ex- 
 terior of the premises I had upset an apple stall, the 
 passage remains blank. 
 
 The collision with the apple stall, followed by a 
 
106 
 
 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 volley of abuse from its female proprietor, had the 
 effect of shaking the mind out of its pleasing abstrac- 
 tion. From this point the veil is withdrawn from 
 the memory. The apple woman at once raised me 
 to that state of consciousness that made my position 
 as clear as the stall I had upset. I was too happy, 
 however, to feel any concern for the mishap, beyond 
 a desire to make compensation for the same. The 
 award of a shilling at once elicited from my abuser 
 the consolatory declaration that " a jintleman always 
 acts as si eh/' From this point, all, at present, went 
 smooth. I thought the streets, the people, and 
 everything I passed, looked brighter and better than 
 they had ever looked before — brighter at least, than 
 they appeared during my three weeks' search for 
 what I had now secured. Even Kitty, the dirty little 
 maid who opened the door at my lodgings, became 
 an attractive object ; and although I had never ex- 
 changed words with the girl, except on some domestic 
 subject similar to that of the "beans and bacon," 
 yet, on this occasion I remember to have said, u well, 
 Kitty, I've got a situation at last/' 
 
 When a night's repose had calmed the excitement 
 of the preceding day, I found time to discover a few 
 of the immediate wants occasioned by success. The 
 chief of these was a desire to leave for ever the 
 lodging in which my hourly fear was that of having 
 again to encounter, either in kindness or anger, a 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 107 
 
 landlady whose character was altogether beyond my 
 power of comprehension. Fifteen days had to expire 
 to bring the first of the ensuing month — the time 
 appointed for the opening of my commercial duties. 
 I had only four shillings to offer Mrs. Pepper in 
 part payment of six shillings and sixpence, now due 
 for a week's lodging. After this lady's unpalatable 
 accusation concerning my breakfast, and the conse- 
 quent reduction made by me in the quantity thereof, 
 a cup of coffee and a slice of bread and butter, at a 
 little shop in the vicinity, had often served me as an 
 early dinner. The proprietor of this house had both 
 the manner and appearance of respectability, and I 
 resolved to make all the circumstances of my position 
 known to this person, and ask him to receive me for 
 a fortnight into his house. He at once assented and 
 declined to accept, as security for payment, the most 
 valuable article — my watch — I possessed, although 
 he supplied me with half-a-crown to complete the 
 amount due to Mrs. Pepper. 
 
 " It never rains but it pours." I now began to 
 think that, on a small scale, my own case was about 
 to illustrate this well-known adage. One goodly 
 stream of fortune that had but yesterday refreshed 
 a drooping spirit after a long drought, was to-day 
 followed by another, while a successor was yet at 
 hand. On reaching the lodging I was about to 
 vacate, Kitty gave me a small sealed parcel which, 
 
108 NUMBER ONE; OR; 
 
 during my absence, had been left by the person from 
 whom a little parcel had previously been received. 
 The delivery of the second packet was simply accom- 
 panied by a repetition of the message left with the 
 first, viz., — " Frank might guess the person who sent 
 it." I did guess and, so far as related to the value 
 of the parcel, the guess was a correct one, but whether 
 it was equally so with regard to the person from 
 whom the packet came will presently appear. For 
 the receipt of the five pound Bank of England note 
 which was wrapped up in a bit of brown paper, I at 
 once considered myself indebted to the young gentle- 
 man whose delay in the fulfilment of his promise had 
 induced me, in my own mind, to libel him as a faith- 
 less friend. The only mystery about the note ap- 
 peared to be the absence of all communication on the 
 subject, beyond a repetition of the verbal message 
 that had been left with the previous guinea. But I 
 resolved to write to my country friend from my 
 new lodging. With this determination, I tried to 
 fortify my nerves for a final interview with a 
 landlady of whom I stood in fear — although the 
 possession of means for the discharge of her claim 
 supplied me, in the place of a large amount of 
 former fear, with a proportionate degree of indepen- 
 dence. 
 
 " Kitty says you wish to see me," said Mrs. Pepper, 
 as she entered my apartment. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 109 
 
 " I owe you for a week's lodging, Mrs. Pepper/' 
 was my reply. 
 
 u I belieYe you do ; but if you owed me for two 
 weeks it would be all the same." 
 
 "But the amount would not be the same, Mrs. 
 Pepper?" 
 
 " Well, that's very true ; but you know what I 
 mean; it's the same thing whether you pay this week 
 or next week, or the week arter, for the matter o' that. 
 I shall be satisfied anyhow." 
 
 " I hope so, Mrs. Pepper, and as my week expires 
 to-day, I wish to satisfy you before I go." 
 
 "Why, you're not a going out again to-day? It's 
 not good for you, young man, to walk so much. Do 
 rest a little. I was just a going to send you up a 
 little bit of gooseberry tart. Don't spare the sugar, 
 for the berries are mortally sour. As we've got no 
 cream, you'll find a little milk take off the sharpness. 
 I'll tell Kitty to bring you up a little." 
 
 "Really, Mrs. Pepper, I am much obliged to you, 
 but I'd rather be excused. I don't think you under- 
 stood me when I talked of going ? " 
 
 " Understood ! Of course I understood. You are 
 a going to your situation — but not to-day ; and when 
 you do go I s'pose you'll sleep here at nights ? The 
 young people don't live in the house there, do they ? 
 But what day are you a going — in about a fort- 
 night, I believe ? " 
 
110 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 " Yes ; I go to my situation in a fortnight, but I 
 am going from here to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the landlady, with a frown as 
 long and angry as that of a sulky child, "if that's 
 the case, young man, I see through it all. But I 
 don't blame you; it's him as gave security for you 
 who's done it." 
 
 " Him who gave security for me ? " I enquired in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Yes ; for your board and lodging, and promised 
 something for the maid. Honest John, as you call 
 him ; it's to him you're a going, I s'pose ? " 
 
 " Indeed it is not," I said, as the blood seemed to 
 fire my every vein, " and after your promise, Mrs. 
 Pepper, I am surprised you should have called on 
 him." 
 
 "Are you though? " said the landlady with a 
 sneer. " At your age, young man, you should not 
 be surprised at anything; but you'll not be quite so 
 young when you are a little older." 
 
 " I am old enough to know that," I replied, having 
 now greater contempt than fear for a woman who 
 had broken faith and revealed my position to those 
 from whom I wished to withhold it. "Again, 
 Mrs. Pepper, I tell you I am very much surprised 
 that you should have called on John at all." 
 
 " And, again, I tell you, young man, that at your 
 age you must not be surprised at anything. One of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. Ill 
 
 your size to talk to a person of my experience. Wait 
 till you're full grown ; perhaps you never will be. 
 It's my opinion you never was full grown, not as a 
 baby ; you must a been born rather young, or you'd 
 know mure 'an you do." 
 
 "If you change this note and take the six and 
 sixpence to which you are entitled, I shall be out of 
 your debt, madam/' I said, at the same time placing 
 a five pound note on the table. 
 
 "And this is all one gets for doing a good turn," 
 said Mrs. Pepper, taking up the note. "You'd a 
 never had the note nor the guinea, nor any part of 
 it, if it hadn't a been for me — ask the man you're a 
 going to else. Didn't I tell him all about you, and 
 all about the country friend as cheated you; and 
 didn't he say he'd send the self same sums as vou 
 had lost, and send 'em all anonmously ? Ask him if 
 I didn't tell him all, and if he didn't thank me for 
 taking compassion on you? But, as I'm a woman, 
 it's the last time I ever concerns myself for the 
 benefit of another." 
 
 Mis. Pepper now left the room, but returned in a 
 few moments with what she called "the balance" 
 from the bank-note. 
 
 ".Your bill, with extras, is eighteen shillings. 
 There's the balance," said the landlady, as she placed 
 four pounds two shillings on the table, and again left 
 the room without saying another word. 
 
112 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 From this moment I had no desire to see, and 
 never again saw, the woman who had now ceased to 
 be my landlady. The portrait of the character she 
 had previously left on my mind received its final 
 touch from the extras by which a bill of six and 
 sixpence was suddenly raised to eighteen shillings. 
 Whether justly or unjustly, I decided that the 
 original of the picture belonged to the second class 
 of number ones to which Honest John had directed 
 my attention, when he informed me that the various 
 characters to be found in the way of the world might 
 be divided into two classes. After Kitty had been 
 satisfied with a few shillings from the change re- 
 turned by her mistress, I shouldered my trunk and 
 started for the new lodgings, in which I received 
 every comfort and attention. 
 
 It was not till the day preceding that on which I 
 entered my first situation that I found sufficient 
 courage to face the anonymous benefactor who had 
 rescued me from my difficulties. The imaginary 
 friend whose companionship caused those difficulties 
 proved false. To the secret aid of Honest John I 
 was alone indebted for the relief of troubles his good 
 advice had failed to avert. But fearing his anger 
 would accord with my own deserts, I delayed mhv 
 visit till the day that prefaced the opening of my 
 commercial duties, and the visit was then enforced 
 rather by a sense of gratitude for great kindness, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 113 
 
 than by a desire for a personal acknowledgement of 
 the same. 
 
 Dreary darkness is not more directly opposed to 
 cheerful light than was my anticipated gloomy re- 
 ception at the hands of Honest John to the sunny 
 one which Honest John accorded me. In place of 
 expected frowns and merited censure, I received 
 nothing but smiles and encouragement. Instead of 
 being upbraided by a list of past errors, I was only 
 commended for good intentions in the future. Refer- 
 ence to bygone folly was never made, except in the 
 sorrow expressed for the penalty I had paid for it. 
 The faithlessness of my early companion was not 
 even alluded to, except in the hope that I might 
 meet with friends more worthy of confidence. But 
 this generous sympathy created in my mind a deeper 
 impression of the mistakes I had made than if they 
 had been presented and condemned in the darkest 
 colors. Now, and not till now, I felt the real value 
 of parental or guardian love. When my father lived 
 I never felt the want of a father's protecting care, 
 and therefore never knew its inestimable worth. 
 Here I found a second father — not of kindred birth 
 and station — in the faithful servant of the first. 
 Honest John evinced that tender regard for my 
 welfare that every affectionate parent cherishes for 
 his child. May every youthful heart learn the true 
 worth of the first family jewel while its mortal spirit 
 survives, for there are but few who ever find a second. 
 
 I 
 
114 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 Father and mother are often unheeded, sometimes 
 unloved, while living. Would it be thus if children 
 discovered the worth of their parents before they 
 lost them ? On this, the evening preceding my 
 mercantile probation, I was enabled to estimate the 
 real value of the protector I had lost, by the worth 
 of the one I had gained. Never did youth feel 
 greater reverence for his father, nor a more affec- 
 tionate regard for his sister, than that entertained by 
 me for Honest John and the gentle Amy, as I took a 
 dutiful farewell about twelve hours before the time 
 fixed for the dawn of my commercial life. 
 
 On telling John that no person could judge of the 
 contents of the house I was about to enter by its 
 external appearance, he said — 
 
 "That house is like the heart of man — remember 
 that, Frank. You can only judge of the interior by 
 becoming acquainted with its contents. It is even 
 so with the human structure. Judge no one by out- 
 ward appearances. Like the external aspect of the 
 establishment you are about to enter, the outward form 
 or figure of a man is by no means a sure sign of the 
 stuff within. It may be good, or it may be good for 
 nothing. This knowledge can only be obtained 
 through your dealings with the owner. But if you'd 
 take a hint from an old traveller, and one who has 
 had some narrow escapes in the way of the world, 
 remember, Frank, that rough ground is less dan- 
 gerous than a slippery surface." 
 
Cfrajrtcr bit. 
 
 FRANK'S FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE 
 STAGE OF COMMERCE. 
 
At nine o'clock on the morning of the appointed 
 day I entered the establishment of Messrs. Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch. The house was an extensive 
 one — one of the largest of its class in the city of 
 London. The business of the firm was that of 
 wholesale silk, Manchester, Scotch, and general 
 warehousemen. The departments were numerous, 
 and included almost every class of goods suited to 
 the retail trade — drapers — or shippers, either for the 
 home or foreign markets. The entire staff of the 
 house was a large one, though it varied a little in 
 what are called the " flat " or " busy seasons " of the 
 year. Including warehousemen, clerks, youths, and 
 porters, the average number of employes was about 
 two hundred. Of these, about one hundred and 
 thirty were boarded and lodged on the premises. 
 The remaining seventy, which comprised the buyers 
 and heads of the respective departments and the 
 chief clerks, dined and took tea in the house, but 
 resided at their own villas, or in their own apart- 
 ments, at various distances and in various directions 
 from the house of business, agreeably with their 
 own peculiar fancies or social habits. 
 
 Before I had been ten minutes in the warehouse 
 
118 NUMB Ell ONE, OK, 
 
 of Messrs. Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, and while 
 waiting to be installed into office, I beheld a practical 
 illustration of the first vital rule in commerce — the 
 chief pivot on which commercial success has ever, 
 in a great measure, depended, and must ever depend. 
 This was the grand principle of action adopted by 
 every first-class establishment in the United King- 
 dom, viz., — punctuality. When I entered the ware- 
 house a few minutes before nine, a continuous stream 
 of young and middle-aged men, fresh from their 
 homes and families, marched down the centre of the 
 great mercantile depot, and branched off right and 
 left to their respective departments with all the 
 regularity and precision of a picket of grenadiers 
 who deploy and halt at their allotted stations. When 
 the warehouse clock had sounded the final stroke of 
 nine, the stream of living vessels had ceased to flow. 
 Each of the tributaries of active labor had sent its 
 quota of heads and hands to the central station; 
 that all might there discharge their daily duties, and 
 return for a fresh supply of vigor with which to 
 pursue their wonted course on the morrow. 
 
 A few moments after the hour for all to be in their 
 places, a tall shrewd-looking, business-like man, 
 marched down the centre of the warehouse, and took 
 up a position commanding a view of the entrance. 
 This gentleman was the general of the establish- 
 ment. His duties correspond with those of shop- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 119 
 
 walker in a retail bouse. He superintends order, 
 notes the arrival and departure of the young men, 
 and does the " polite " to wholesale buyers in a 
 manner quite as agreeable and sometimes more sub- 
 stantial than that displayed by retail dealers towards 
 their equally welcome but less extensive customers. 
 Either by this officer, or the chief of some particular 
 department, a " large buyer " is usually conducted to 
 lunch, dinner, tea, or wine, as the time of day or 
 circumstances of the case might require. But like 
 all head-officers in large wholesale establishments, 
 the general, while all-important in his own depart- 
 ment, is comparatively useless beyond it. He super- 
 intends and sees that the wants of each buyer are 
 supplied, without himself being able to supply them. 
 He knows the class of goods and the variety of the 
 class each department contains, but would be unable 
 to select from such class or classes any particular 
 number, make, or quality of goods enquired for. 
 That is the business of others. The business of the 
 general, or warehouse-walker is to superintend not 
 to serve. 
 
 " Well, my lad, what's your business ? " enquired 
 the superintendent, as he discovered me standing in 
 the warehouse waiting the arrival of the junior of 
 the firm. 
 
 " Mr. Branch appointed this morning for me to 
 enter my situation, sir/' 
 
120 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 tt Oil ! you are one of Mr. Branch's children, are 
 you? Come this way. Here, Mr. Fourquarter, 
 here's a little of the raw material for you; see what 
 yon can make of it." 
 
 In this unceremonious manner I was at once in- 
 troduced to the largest department in the house, to 
 its buyer and my own immediate master, and to the 
 opening scene in the commercial drama, the first act 
 of which mistfit determine whether success or failure 
 would be the result of the trial. 
 
 Alas ! how severe are the trials of disposition 
 and temper, by every imaginable mortal test, to 
 which a youth is sometimes subject before he makes 
 himself master of his first commercial or professional 
 position — especially when he becomes the subordinate 
 of rough, spiteful, or heartless seniors. Without 
 that invincible determination that springs from 
 necessity, how often is the heart of youth crushed in 
 its first praiseworthy effort — not through its own 
 faults, but by the harsh treatment of others. I have 
 seen this more than once. For my own part, when 
 I upset the apple-stall in the joyful excitement of 
 the scene in which my first situation had been 
 secured and revelled over, I considered that my 
 troubles were all coming to a close. But here again 
 the imagination had drawn a picture entirely opposed 
 to the reality, ^sly first month of office proved a 
 calendar of disagreeable discoveries. I found the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 121 
 
 diffiulty of securing a situation was now surpassed 
 by the difficulty of keeping it. The troubles and 
 trials encountered in the way to the first step on 
 fortune's ladder were succeeded by others which 
 made it hard, very hard, to hold the footing that 
 cost so much labour to obtain. Fortunately I had 
 no indulgent parents to fall back upon, or I might 
 have lost the position I had gained. Aware of this, 
 I held fast, though more than an average share of 
 the annoyances that usually befel fresh comers or 
 " young flats/' as they are called, appeared to be 
 reserved for the " countryman." Not only did the 
 young warehousemen, who were already familiar with 
 the trade, leave me to acquire knowledge as best I 
 could, but in all places and at all times, in business 
 or out of business, " chaff," practical jokes, and 
 occasional injuries were remorselessly and unceasingly 
 heaped on the devoted head of the new comer. By 
 the agency of an unseen hand, a tall and heavy pile 
 of goods would now and then roll over, and in its 
 downward course carry me flat on the floor, to 
 the evident delight of those who had devised and 
 executed the mischief. On one occasion I remember 
 that, on putting on my hat and again removing it, 
 I was smothered from head to foot with flour that 
 had been placed in it. But these and other mis- 
 chievous games were invariably carried on by junior 
 warehousemen in the temporary absence of the heads 
 
122 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 of the departments. The sporting young men of 
 the establishment selected for their victims those of 
 their juniors whom they knew would rather be tor- 
 mented than exiled. Any complaint of their con- 
 duct would have ultimately insured the discharge of 
 the reporter instead of the person reported. 
 
 The position of an orphan is generally regarded as 
 an unfortunate one. In most cases it may prove to 
 be so. But there are exceptions to this, as to every 
 other current of life by which the human form is 
 carried. Of such exceptions, the writer's early 
 history will furnish one. The melancholy accident, 
 as it is often regarded, of being thrown parentless on 
 the world was one of the most fortunate incidents in 
 my own life. In it, I found a richer legacy than 
 gold or the means for self-indulgence — I found the 
 key to self-dependence, together with a knowledge of 
 the real value of the inheritance, gathered from early 
 experience. God only knows what might have been 
 my position or sphere of life, had my parents lived. 
 Yet I know full well, and may truly aver, that, on 
 more than one occasion, I should have abandoned my 
 position in the house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, 
 if indulgent parents had been alive, and ready to 
 receive their u poor boy " from the commercial school 
 and schooling which only proved for the benefit of 
 the scholar. Reflection was my sole referee and 
 prompter. Here I found it would be wiser to sub- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 123 
 
 mit to trifling annoyances — wiser to battle against 
 present difficulties, than rashly subject myself to 
 future and greater ones. The former want of a good 
 dinner;, with the prospect of remaining poor and fit 
 for nothing, now taught me the worth of a good 
 dinner, with the chance of becoming independent 
 and fit for something. In the house of Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch, there was no limit to the number 
 of slices of bread and butter supplied for a youth's 
 breakfast. With the daily recognition of this agree- 
 able fact, I was ever reminded of Mrs. Pepper and 
 the abridgement of my morning meal. The con- 
 trast was too striking to escape the memory. I 
 therefore resolved to keep and, if possible, to im- 
 prove my footing, and thereby lessen its difficulties, 
 in the house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch — unlike 
 
 A YOUTH WHO^D PLAY, BUT WOULDN'T WOEK. 
 
 Poor Robin Rose ! Robin Rose was a youth about 
 my own age. His first situation was in the house of 
 Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. Adjoining that in 
 which I was placed, stood the department selected 
 by the firm for Robin's opening scene. The day 
 that introduced Robin to the stage of commerce 
 raised the curtain on another debutant in the person 
 of the writer. Our respective parts were cast by the 
 same commercial manager, and differed only in detail. 
 But between the actors the contrast was much 
 
124 NTJMBEK ONE; OR, 
 
 greater. The accomplished young townsman had 
 many advantages over the crude young countryman. 
 Education, personal appearance, and knowledge of 
 local customs were each on the side of the Londoner. 
 Against these I possessed but one stronghold — 
 perseverance. Of this, Robin was deficient, — it was 
 his weak point. Although he escaped the annoyances 
 and practical jokes to which I was subject, Robin 
 made troubles for himself. The daily duties of his 
 situation were regarded as so many daily hardships. 
 He would have liked his place in a first-class house, 
 without the work attached to it. The commercial 
 obligations of the establishment were less in keeping 
 with Robin's taste than the domestic and social 
 comforts within the house. He preferred the sitting- 
 room to the wareroom. Evening pleasure suited him 
 better than morning labor. 
 
 Robin, moreover, was an especial favorite. But — 
 like his own taste — the favor was rather of social 
 than commercial origin. He was held in higher 
 esteem by the juniors of the establishment than by 
 the chief of his own department — by those who 
 liked an entertaining companion, rather than by one 
 who prized a useful assistant. The lads admired 
 the refinement of Robin's taste in dress, envied the 
 ring that adorned his little finger, applauded to the 
 echo his genial style of telling a story, or singing a 
 song, and ever regarded him as the head of the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 125 
 
 youthful and social gathering. But the evening and 
 morning pictures told different tales. In one, Robin 
 was the hero ; in the other, he was a sluggard. He 
 played " first fiddle " in the first, but no fiddle at 
 all in the second. The same spirit that at night 
 afforded pleasure to those whose praise was worth 
 nothing, provoked, by day, the displeasure of those 
 whose good opinion was worth something. In fine, 
 the delicate hand that displayed a cambric handker- 
 chief to the greatest advantage, was found a very 
 bad hand in the use of a duster, and that sweet voice 
 which charmed the social circle was always out of 
 tune in the march of commerce. 
 
 Poor Robin ! Robin had indulgent parents. They 
 were told by their " poor boy " that his commercial 
 hardships were unbearable. The parents complained 
 to the firm. The firm replied with a corresponding 
 grievance : — " We have no desire to subject to hard- 
 ships a youth from whom we receive no benefit. 
 The services of your son being of no value here, 
 your early removal of the same from this establish- 
 ment will oblige — Fountain, Pillar, and Branch/' 
 
 Thus ended the first act in Robin's commercial 
 career. After a brief trial of two months, he was 
 withdrawn from the great mercantile house in which 
 he had been placed. His withdrawal was univer- 
 sally regretted by those youths to whose evening 
 pleasures he had so largely contributed. But the 
 
126 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 heads of the commercial department, to which Robin 
 had contributed nothing, evinced no corresponding 
 regret for the social loss of the juniors. " Robin's 
 going — let him go/' said his seniors in office, on the 
 day of his departure. " Robin's gone — luck go with 
 him/' said his seniors on the day after his departure. 
 He had made no impression — or a bad one, if any — 
 in business, and his name was thus dismissed and 
 forgotten by business men. Yet, a few of his youth- 
 ful companions, who had enjoyed the pleasantries of 
 his companionship, noted with curiosity, and learned 
 with regret, the career and subsequent fate of one 
 who had been the hero of the sitting-room, and the 
 sluggard of the wareroom : — 
 
 In the commercial as in the scientific world, that 
 knowledge, skill, or position which may be the most 
 difficult to secure, is generally of the greatest value 
 when secured ; but that which is obtained without 
 labor is often worth nothing. Robin soon found, 
 and for some years kept, a situation in which he had 
 little to do, and as little to learn. Here he found 
 leisure for his idle habits by day, and for the culti- 
 vation of his expensive pleasures at night. On the 
 death of his parents, however, he discovered to his 
 sorrow, that idleness and pleasure failed to supply 
 their owner either with board and lodging, clothes, 
 or pocket money. He also found that the master 
 who had accepted his services, without pay, to do 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 127 
 
 next to nothing, was not disposed to retain his 
 services on any other terms. 
 
 Poor Robin ! For some years the diminished wiek 
 of his broken and waning spirit nickered on through 
 a precarious existence. At one time he was waiter 
 at an hotel, at another time he was billiard-marker, 
 then an omnibus conductor ; but, more frequently 
 than either, or any thing else, he was the unem- 
 ployed recipient of favors from those on whom he 
 had either the claim of relationship, or former friend- 
 ship. The last time I saw him he received from me 
 the sum of two shillings and sixpence, in reply to 
 his declaration — endorsed by his appearance — that he 
 stood in want of a dinner. The last I heard of him 
 was in the melancholy report, that, behind the door 
 of the bed-room to which he had retired, he had — 
 in place of his coat — suspended himself. Poor 
 Robin Rose ! 
 
 The sad career and still more dismal end of Robin 
 Rose,, furnish a truthful, yet fearful, lesson on the 
 fruit of idleness, arising from seed allowed to ger- 
 minate in the path of youth. Through an indulgent 
 but mistaken feeling of kindness, parents are apt to 
 favor the views of their sons, by regarding a little 
 work as a great hardship — although to the want of 
 it may be traced many of those baneful evils which 
 give birth to the follies of youth, kindle the vice of 
 manhood, and darken the sorrows of old age. It is a 
 
128 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 serious mistake — one of common occurrence — to sup- 
 pose that a situation in which the duties offer leisure 
 for every indulgence, is that which affords the greatest 
 facilities for advancement. If the body be inactive, 
 the mind must be occupied on what is profitable or 
 unprofitable. If idleness be allowed to feed the mind 
 of youth with unwholesome matter, time will only 
 tend to increase and strengthen a taste for what will 
 soon become habitual. How many hundreds, how 
 many thousands, of promising and intelligent youths 
 are at this moment wasting their precious hours in 
 the offices of some petty would-be merchant ? Are 
 there not, of the number, many whose duties consist 
 in dusting the office in the morning, entering the 
 names of callers during the day, and returning to 
 their friends with the fruit of their labor — loss of 
 time — at night, and with the brilliant prospect of the 
 same profitable occupation on the morrow ? 
 
 What a contrast and variety, both in feeling, dis- 
 position, and action, does the character of youth 
 display ! The large number of youths in the house 
 of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch might have formed 
 an extensive study for the moralist. The varied and 
 opposite features by which their character was de- 
 veloped would have required a skilful hand to embody 
 the same, not owing to the obscurity, but rather to 
 the undisguised prominence of the figures. The 
 peculiar construction, complicated machinery, and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 129 
 
 different degrees of action of human nature mav be 
 more conspicuously seen in youth than at any subse- 
 quent period. In youth, nature is revealed in her 
 true colors. That artifice which in manhood assumes 
 so many forms, and is capable of so much deception;, 
 is almost a stranger to youth, in which age the natural 
 gentleness or wickedness, gaiety or gravity, of dis- 
 position may be seen without diguise. 
 
 Yet how frequent are the mistakes which occur in 
 the management of vouth — although the most dis- 
 agreeable characters may often, at an early age, be 
 tempered, if not entirely changed by suitable treat- 
 ment. Excessive indulgence and excessive severity 
 are the extremes which lead to the ruin of thousands. 
 A self-willed disposition may, for a time, be fright- 
 ened into submission by force, but will fail to receive 
 any benefit from it. The rod may terrify the spirit, 
 but cannot conquer it. An attempt to grow oranges 
 on the top of Mont Blanc, or to improve an unpro- 
 mising sapling by throwing hot water on its roots', 
 will scarcely prove more unsuccessful than an en- 
 deavour to cultivate meekness in the most stubborn 
 mould of nature by severe treatment. 
 
 Parents often regard others as the originators of 
 any imperfections which may present themselves in 
 their own children. It is not a thing of rare occur- 
 rence for an indulgent parent to attribute to the 
 monitor or commercial instructor of his child, not 
 
 K 
 
130 NUMBEB ONE J OK, 
 
 only the discovery of any bad quality, but, at the 
 same time, to lay the cause entirely at the master's 
 door — although it might have only opened a stronger 
 light on growing evils created or neglected under 
 his own paternal roof. Early impressions on the 
 mind are generally the most permanent. They may, 
 for a time, be partially obscured., or even perverted, 
 by the changes and allurements of life, but their 
 effect is but seldom, if ever, wholly effaced. Virtue 
 being the cultivated vine, rather than a wild and 
 growing instinct of nature, and being ourselves, even 
 in infancy, the creatures of imitation, we are more 
 likely to follow good qualities than to generate them, 
 although in some instances they may be neglected 
 or abandoned in maturity. If the proper principles 
 be not instilled before the youth enters on his com- 
 mercial career, the chance of their future installation 
 will be small indeed. Although, in the spring of 
 commercial life, opportunities may occur for the im- 
 provement of character under various aspects, such 
 opportunities are seldom embraced if a foretaste of 
 what is desirable has not been previously acquired. 
 Should a parent forget, at an early period, to prepare 
 in his son's mind the way to a substantial foundation, 
 or omit to cultivate the path by the force of good 
 example, there will be but faint hope of its subse- 
 quent formation. Suddenly launched on the world, 
 often among those who introduce evil habits where 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOELD. 131 
 
 good ones are not already planted, a youth requires 
 great moral power to cling to what is right where 
 wrong predominates in those around. 
 
 Let me here make a passing remark on the salutary 
 effect of good, and the pernicious tendency of un- 
 wholesome literature on the mind of youth. The 
 Press of a country may be taken as a faithful type 
 of the people, and England may indeed be envied 
 by other nations, not only in reference to the high 
 character and unbridled freedom of her Press, but 
 also with regard to the corresponding advantages and 
 blessings enjoyed by her people. But the Press is a 
 large family, and large families not unfrequently 
 contain members who are a disgrace to their own 
 kin. It is even so with the Press. There are 
 scavengers in the paths of literature, as in other 
 departments of social science. There are literary 
 reptiles or carnivorous crows whose polluted quills 
 are ever ready to pander to a vitiated taste ; writers 
 who — in the words of the Times — " make lust the 
 alpha, and murder the omega of their filthy produc- 
 tions." It is by these that the mind of youth is not 
 only polluted, but frequently led into the mud-pool 
 of reality, past all redemption. If you find a youth 
 good for nothing, or good only for mischief, just make 
 some enquiry respecting his taste for literature. If 
 he has any taste at all on the subject, you will, in 
 nine cases out of ten, find that taste to be a depraved 
 
132 NUMBER ONE J OK, 
 
 one. I have known several youths — Robin Rose was 
 one — whose early ruin might be partially, if not 
 entirely attributed to the love of horrible, yet at the 
 same time most seductive and exciting tales of the 
 devil's creation. I thank God that no work of that 
 kind can be ranked among my many offences. 
 
 Fortunately, the working classes of the present day 
 need not waste their pence on literary trash, unless 
 they desire to do so. It cannot be said " there is 
 nothing better in the market at the same price." 
 The issue of cheap literature is not now entirely 
 monopolized by the black feathered tribe. There is 
 no occasion for the artizan or laborer to take his 
 weekly on monthly penny for a sheet of mental 
 poison — always " to be continued" for the ruin of its 
 victims. So long as the "British Workman/' and 
 other publications recommended by the Pure Litera- 
 ture Society, continue to supply matter that tends 
 to purify the morals and elevate the mind, the people 
 have only themselves to blame if they choose those 
 fables which have nothing but a hellish tendency. 
 
 In the ho&se of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, the 
 staff of junior officers was a large one. Including 
 those in each department — ware-room, entering-room, 
 and counting-house — the average number of youths 
 from fourteen to eighteen years of age was about 
 twenty. The school itself is, or rather was during 
 my probation, one that might have furnished subjects 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 133 
 
 for the constant employment of a Hogarth. The 
 varied scenes enacted therein might have been vividly- 
 sketched by the masterly pencil of such an artist. 
 They cannot be transcribed, but only alluded to, by 
 the feeble pen of the writer. The meeting of youth- 
 ful spirits, after the commercial duties of the day, 
 might be compared to a whirlpool or centre of oppo- 
 site currents, — to which objects of various sizes, 
 dispositions, and degrees, had gathered together, and 
 were now, aided by their own buoyancy, being turned 
 round in the most conflicting confusion. Never did 
 priestly conclave of Romans and lay agents, from 
 Pope No-no down to Guy Fawkes, hatch a greater 
 amount of mischief in a given time, than was nightly 
 devised, and often executed, by the youthful dis- 
 turbers of the peace, of which body the writer was a 
 member. No sooner were the commercial duties of 
 the day at an end, than the games of the evening — 
 whether serious or comic, hurtful or harmless — at 
 once began. True, the machinations of the youthful 
 assembly involved nothing so grave as the ruin of 
 country, the extirpation of state, or the change of 
 creed j but the mischievous games of the desperadoes 
 of the tribe often gave rise to social disorder that 
 proved anything but agreeable to the victim or vic- 
 tims selected for the sport of any particular occasion. 
 Each proposition, however wicked or absurd, that was 
 supported by the majority of the party enforced the 
 
134 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 silent acquiescence of tlie opponents, as open hos- 
 tility or dissent only served to mark the opponent as 
 the next subject to be operated on. The majority 
 carried every scheme — whether of innocent sport, or 
 wanton mischief and cruelty. On one occasion, a 
 youth who had given offence was condemned to be 
 cropped, and a secret committee was accordingly 
 appointed to execute the sentence. Ignorant of the 
 penalty that awaited him, the unconscious culprit — 
 like Samson asleep — was one night deprived of his 
 curly locks — at least, as many of the same as the 
 shearers could sever without disturbing the repose of 
 the slumbering innocent. His appearance at the 
 breakfast table the following morning provoked, as 
 may be imagined, loud or suppressed laughter on the 
 part of all present but the hairless stripling whose 
 grotesque appearance occasioned the merriment. On 
 another occasion, the manager of the establishment 
 had himself roused the displeasure of the juniors, by 
 the introduction of a few social reforms. For this 
 legitimate exercise of authority, the offender's hat, 
 which hung in the hall, was polluted by the insertion 
 of a quantity of indescribable filth, which descended 
 on the head of the general as he placed his hat 
 thereon. Neither in this, nor any such act, were the 
 criminals ever discovered. Secresy was invariably 
 observed. Anything else would have insured either 
 the immediate expulsion of the informer, or the dis- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 135 
 
 charge — by the firm — of the entire juvenile staff. 
 In a large establishment, the adoption of this alter- 
 native is not always convenient. 
 
 Happily, not only the scenes just alluded to, but 
 most of those of a similar character, are numbered 
 with the things of the past. In social reform, much 
 has been accomplished during the last forty years. 
 That time has nearly elapsed since I entered on the 
 duties of my first commercial situation in the house 
 of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. Mercantile estab- 
 lishments had not then — as now — well-stocked 
 libraries for the mental and moral improvement of 
 the inmates. In that day, masters who were not 
 themselves advanced in anything but commercial 
 knowledge, failed to display that solicitude which is 
 now evinced by employers for the intellectual ad- 
 vancement of the employes. To furnish the pocket, 
 not the mind, was the chief object of business men. 
 The higher branches of learning were then deemed 
 useless appendages in a young warehouseman's 
 education, because the cost of insuring their pos- 
 session would have involved an outlay for which 
 there was no certainty of a profitable return. If 
 £ s. d. be still the dominant features in the world, 
 young people are, at least, impressed with the ad- 
 vantages that may arise from a knowledge of the 
 arts and sciences. If, in many cases, the arts and 
 sciences have done little more for the fathers and 
 
136 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 grand-fathers of the present generation than satisfy 
 them of their utility, the aged members of the 
 community evince a laudable desire to impart to 
 their sons what was denied in the early stages of 
 their own career. If number one be still found, and 
 will still be found, the leading figure in the icay of 
 the world, there is at present an evident and growing 
 endeavour to refine, and give a greater degree of 
 finish to the picture. 
 
 In this allusion to the advantages of a suitable 
 education for each and every class of society, the 
 writer does not wish to be misunderstood. If social 
 reformers of former days neglected to impress on 
 parents and employers the benefits that would accrue 
 from having their sons and servants mentally qualified 
 for their respective positions in life, some of our 
 modern philanthropists seem desirous of rushing to 
 the opposite extreme. They would not only have 
 people educated for positions beyond those designed 
 for them, but, in many cases, they lead the ignorant 
 to suppose that education is to do everything for 
 them. Such assurances are not only illusory, but 
 dangerous. If by the application of mental know- 
 ledge to natural talent or genius, certain poor men 
 have become, as others may become, great and 
 eminent, it is absurd to argue, by the same rule, 
 that education would develop in the many what 
 nature has given only to the few. Education may 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 137 
 
 perfect the shoot, but cannot plant the seed of genius. 
 Those who would make mechanics and artizans 
 classical scholars, or invest cooks and kitchen-maids 
 with drawing-room accomplishments, are not social 
 reformers, but social revolutionists. They would 
 destroy law and order, and disturb the peace of society 
 rather than consolidate it. Servants who acquire a 
 superficial knowledge of what they are not qualified, 
 either by nature or position, to practise, are them- 
 selves seldom satisfied with their own situation in life, 
 and seldom satisfy those whom they engage to serve. 
 Even so with young people who beguile themselves 
 on another subject — a reliance on others, instead of 
 on themselves. The poor mechanic who has learned 
 to read and write and to do a little in vulgar frac- 
 tions, and who complacently believes himself to be a 
 man of letters, is no more an object of self-delusion 
 than that youth who places his trust in the reputed 
 wealth of friend or relative, either for his own 
 permanent advancement, or for a position of future 
 independence. The simple circumstance of a lad 
 being blessed with wealthy or independent parents 
 cannot, in itself, be a misfortune, although a greater 
 misfortune can scarcely befal a youth than to make 
 his own knowledge of such wealth or independence 
 an excuse for inactivity or idleness. This declaration 
 is founded on personal observation. I look around 
 me for the old and middle-aged men who, nearly 
 
138 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 forty years ago, played — with the writer — their 
 youthful parts in the house of Fountain, Pillar, and 
 Branch. What were the prospects of those young 
 men then ? What is the position of these old men 
 now ? Of about two-thirds of the staff, I am unable 
 to speak. We are either separated by death, divided 
 by country, or lost to memory through change of 
 occupation, or change of appearance. But one-third, 
 or about seven of my warehouse companions are 
 still before me. Three of the number are not only 
 independent, but very wealthy men — one of them 
 a millionaire. The remaining four are anything but 
 independent. One is, or rather was a few weeks 
 since, in the wine trade, and has, in his time, been 
 in a variety of other trades ; another — a fine grey- 
 headed, well-educated, old man — is canvasser and 
 collector for the proprietors of a metropolitan pub- 
 lication ; another is in a very small, but has been in 
 a very large way of business; and the last of the 
 number is often recognised at the corner of a certain 
 street in the city. He never fails to recognise any 
 old friend or acquaintance, of whom he is ever ready 
 to receive anything in the shape of a gratuity, from 
 sixpence to a sovereign. 
 
 To their own unaided exertions in early life two 
 out of the commercial trio of wealthy gentlemen 
 just named are entirely indebted for their present 
 independent position. Their friends were too poor 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 139 
 
 to assist them with anything but good advice. The 
 parents of the third were in a respectable way of 
 business, and probably started their son when, on 
 his own account, he entered on the path to fortune. 
 The last four gentlemen alluded to could boast, and 
 did boast, of friends and relations in good or easy 
 circumstances. These facts tell their own tale, 
 without comment. " The ' old uns Mia ve plenty of 
 money, why should I work? " In this observation 
 — which I have often heard — may be found the key 
 to the present position of the four gentlemen just 
 referred to. The reader may naturally enquire, "to 
 which of the two classes mentioned does the writer 
 himself belong?" The answer is, "To neither/ 5 
 Although I had neither parent nor friend to ease the 
 struggles of a somewhat arduous and varied career, 
 I am neither wealthy nor entirely independent. But, 
 thank God, I am contented, not only contented, but 
 happy. I might have been richer without being 
 happier ; but the reason I am not richer than I am 
 cannot be traced to the want of opportunities. The 
 veil that covers the loss or neglect of such oppor- 
 tunities will be raised for the reader in due time. 
 At present it is necessary, for a moment, to return to 
 the first stage in the warehouseman's career in the 
 house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. 
 
 Before I had been three months in my situation, 
 the difficulties and annoyances by which I was at 
 
140 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 first surrounded had diminished both in number and 
 magnitude. The buyer or head of my department, 
 who — speaking symbolically — had favored me with a 
 greater number of kicks than kisses, began to relax 
 the severity of his treatment. AVhen he found his 
 pupil attentive, industrious, and, if not an apt 
 scholar, at least, anxious to learn, he gradually 
 changed the tone of his commands and corrections 
 from bitter notes of answer to gentle admonitions, 
 and from gentle admonitions to words of kindness 
 and encouragement. Gaining strength with the 
 senior in office, I lessened the opposition and annoy- 
 ance of juniors who are ever ready to take advan- 
 tage of, rather than to relieve the embarrassment of 
 a new comer or commercial novice. I endeavoured 
 to give all the satisfaction my limited knowledge of 
 business would allow, and, at the same time, to in- 
 crease the amount of knowledge by which greater 
 satisfaction might be given. The endeavour was 
 recognised and acknowledged. One morning, when 
 all the young men in the department were engaged, 
 and after a successful attempt, on my part, to supply 
 the wants of a customer, the senior, in his rough, 
 business-like way, said, " well done young-un ; you'll 
 do. Remember, the governor has got his eye on 
 you." Although immensely pleased, after my .early 
 doubts and fears, to hear from the head of my 
 department that I should " do," I was altogether at a 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 141 
 
 loss to know how the governor — a term always 
 applied to one of the firm — could have his " eye on 
 me." 2sot only had neither of the governors spoken 
 to me since the day when my engagement was closed 
 with Mr. Branch, but I had not seen them, except 
 in an occasional and hasty walk through the ware- 
 room, on their way to or from the counting-house. 
 From the following incidents, however, I subse- 
 quently, for a moment, supposed that it was quite 
 possible for governors to have their eyes where they 
 are not themselves seen. 
 
 Although treated with greater consideration in 
 business than at first, I was not yet free from annoy- 
 ance out of business. Each inmate of the house had 
 small, but separate beds. I had two bed-room com- 
 panions. They had been, and continued to be, my 
 relentless tormentors. But practical joke players 
 sometimes carry their fun beyond the forbearance of 
 those on whom they play, and a little too far for 
 their own enjoyment. It was so here. Having one 
 night retired to bed and fallen asleep before the 
 arrival of my peace-destroyers, I was shortly after- 
 wards awoke, partly by a shivering sensation through 
 the system, and partly by the loud laughter of my 
 tormentors, one of whom stood near my head with 
 the jug from which he had been pouring cold water 
 down my back. Consciousness was no sooner restored 
 me, than I was suddenly invested with a power for 
 
142 NUMBER 0>'E; or, 
 
 action such as I never before, and have never since 
 felt, and such as, I trust, I may never again feel. A 
 vivid recollection of the forbearance with which I 
 had suffered former indignities at once floated on the 
 memory, and made the present insult the signal for a 
 terrific explosion of suppressed anger. The electric 
 flash that fired the spirit was so instantaneous, that 
 between the conception and execution of a desire for 
 retributive justice there was no time for reflection. 
 In a moment, I was out of bed ; in another moment 
 I was engaged in administering to the culprit a per- 
 sonal chastisement as severe as was ever received by 
 one youth from the hands of another. He was finally 
 left almost breathless, but not altogether bruiseless, 
 on the bed he had saturated with water, while I 
 took possession of the dry one he intended for him- 
 self. 
 
 Young wags are generally young cowards. One 
 of the present was, and the other was not an excep- 
 tion to the rule. The twin culprit who had been 
 equally guilty with the brother who had executed the 
 watery design of the pair, not only abandoned his 
 comrade during the pugilistic encounter, but hastily 
 sneaked into his bed before he was half undressed, in 
 order to avoid the share of punishment to which he 
 was entitled, and which — had he maintained an erect 
 position — he would probably have received. 
 
 The temporary satisfaction or pleasure that may 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 143 
 
 arise from having- administered personal chastisement 
 to another may be succeeded by anything but agree- 
 able reflections. Correction in this case was merited 
 by the offender. But the hand which, at the moment, 
 was incapable of self-restraint would, within the same 
 hour, have gladly withdrawn the punishment it had 
 inflicted. Directly beneath our bed-room was the 
 sleeping apartment of the manager or warehouse- 
 walker of the establishment. Whether he had been 
 disturbed by the noise arising from the scuffle that 
 had taken place above him, or whether the water 
 from the jug that was broken in the encounter had 
 penetrated the ceiling and opened a communication 
 with his head, I am unable to say. Be this as it 
 may, I was no sooner settled in bed than a loud rap 
 on the bed-room door (which received no response 
 from the affrighted belligerents within) was followed 
 by the entrance of the superintendent, who was 
 robed in his dressing-gown and carried in his hand 
 a lighted candle. After a momentary glance at the 
 disordered state of the apartment and the pieces of 
 broken jug which covered the room, the managerial 
 visitor, in a tone of striking significance, enquired : — 
 
 " What's the meaning of all this ? }} 
 
 To this, however, a death-like silence was alone 
 vouchsafed by those who — to use a common expres- 
 sion — were too " wide awake " to dream even of an 
 attempt to solve a query that might involve the 
 
144 number one; or, 
 
 respondent in further trouble. After the lapse of a 
 few moments, the manager approached the couch on 
 which lay, in silent purgatory, rather than in sweet 
 repose, Robert Turnbull the youth who was expiating 
 his offence on the damp bed he intended for another, 
 but which — unfortunately for the designer — he had 
 prepared for himself. 
 
 " Robert, what's the meaning of all this ? M en- 
 quired the manager with increased emphasis. 
 
 " I — I have been the cause of it all, sir," replied 
 Robert, in a tone that betrayed a spirit quivering 
 between penitence and despair. 
 
 ' ' Oh ! you acknowledge your guilt, do you ? Wait 
 on me in the morning in my office, before you enter 
 on your duties in the warehouse." 
 
 Thus, the manager closed his speech, his visit, and 
 the door of the bed-room from which he retired in 
 seeming disgust. Of the sensations which at this 
 moment agitated my bed-room companions, I am 
 unable to speak ; mine were made up of strong 
 solutions of sorrow, fear, and pity — sorrow for 
 what I had done, fear of the consequences, and pity 
 for one who had already pleaded guilty to the leading 
 count in the indictment. In his honest confession, 
 Robert Turnbull, the agressor, at once caused me to 
 pity the heart I had punished ; for that heart in the 
 time of error and, perhaps, danger, had revealed, at 
 least, one noble feature in its owner. The plea of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 145 
 
 " guilty " instantly changed a feeling of contempt to 
 one of respect. I had no longer anything to forgive 
 my adversary, but all to be forgiven by him. I had 
 previously considered him false a? well as vicious, 
 cunning as well as cruel, but I was mistaken. He 
 was not one of those who offer insult without shame, 
 and receive it without resentment. Unlike his com- 
 panion in mischief, Robert was not a coward. He 
 erred, contested his error, was defeated, and manfully 
 acknowledged his fault, by taking on himself its 
 entire responsibility. Out of the stalk which was 
 supposed to contain only " chaff" had been thrashed 
 a noble ear of corn. "We had fought our way to 
 friendship, and were now the best of friends. So far, 
 the conflict terminated amicably and was productive 
 of good. But the friendly pair that disturbed and 
 made peace with themselves had, unfortunately, dis- 
 turbed but not made peace with others. There resided 
 in the house a law-maker as well as a peace-maker. 
 This was the judge who now agitated the minds of 
 those who had fought and fraternized, but had yet 
 to be called up for judgment. 
 
 My recent foe, but present friend, Robert Turn- 
 bull, was nephew to Mr. Branch, the junior partner 
 of the firm. This fact, though formidable in itself, 
 was only a dark cloud in the distance. But prima 
 facie evidence of the liberty I had taken with the 
 nephew of a gentleman to whom I was indebted for 
 
 L 
 
146 NUMBER 0> T E J OR, 
 
 my first step in the commercial world, made me 
 tremble for the result of the coming storm. I was 
 fearful — and my very dreams were pregnant with the 
 fear — that one, if not both, of the combatants might 
 be swept from the establishment in disgrace. For 
 his own sake, Robert would, if possible, keep the 
 affair from the knowledge of his uncle ; but for the 
 sake of the establishment, and the preservation of 
 good order therein, the manager, in all probability, 
 would prevent the consummation of such a desire. 
 It would, I thought, have been better for me if I 
 had communicated, and left the faults of my com- 
 panion to the care of, and for correction by, other 
 hands. But after-thoughts on what has been done 
 are not preventives. I had now to look at the 
 probable consequences of the reflection, without being 
 able to efface the cause. The fear of being again 
 cast on the world, and of losing the situation that 
 cost so much labor and anxiety to secure, was already 
 a punishment far greater either than a damp bed, or 
 the chastisement awarded the offender. AVhile Robert, 
 during the night, gave unmistakable signs that his 
 punishment had not deprived him of sleep, the restless 
 spirit by which that punishment was administered 
 was tossing to and fro like a ship on a troubled sea. 
 The calm of one body and the agitation of the other 
 might be easily accounted for. In the event of his 
 being cashiered Robert had friends and bread and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 147 
 
 butter to fly to. I had neither. Therein our cases 
 differed, and the knowledge of this difference served 
 as a narcotic to the mind of one patient, and as an 
 irritant to the mind of the other. Mrs. Pepper, my 
 first and never to be forgotten landlady, and the 
 limited breakfast she supplied, when that breakfast 
 constituted my only daily meal, were subjects still 
 fresh on the memory — so fresh, that the very reflec- 
 tion of what had fallen and might again fall to my 
 lot, either kept me awake, or furnished my dreams 
 with pictures more terrible even than the realities. 
 After this fashion, I passed the night, like a poor 
 criminal whose mind is disturbed by dismal fore- 
 bodings of the morrow. 
 
 The morrow came and, with it, certain signs tc 
 strengthen the belief that my worst fears would be 
 realized. Robert Turnbull was absent from the 
 breakfast table. Where was he? He was neither in 
 his bed-room, nor in the warehouse. \Yas he iu the 
 manager's office, or had he been sent thus early to 
 the private residence of his uncle, for immediate 
 examination and judgment? These and similar 
 queries emanated from, and struck terror to, the 
 mind that asked itself, in vain, for solutions. Now, 
 for the first time since I had entered the establish- 
 ment of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, I sat at break- 
 fast without any appetite for the same. The niggardly 
 Mrs. Pepper might herself have been satisfied with 
 
148 NUMBEK o^e; or, 
 
 the moderate inroad made on my morning' meal. I 
 partook freely of the liquid portion of the repast, 
 but bread and butter were altogether at a discount, 
 though unlike property generally quoted at a dis- 
 count — it would not "go down." I felt tolerably 
 sure that Robert had been cashiered, and that my 
 own discharge would soon be announced. The ab- 
 sence of my companion could not be attributed to 
 the enlargement made by a fistic concussion over one 
 of his eyes, for, on leaving bed, he declared his 
 intention to boldly face any remarks or merriment 
 his personal appearance might provoke. Robert was 
 evidently gone. It was, therefore, no longer a ques- 
 tion of whether, it was only a question of when I 
 should have to follow ? 
 
 Contrary to expectation, the day passed and a week 
 passed, without any thing or any body, except my 
 own suspense and anxiety — in themselves, anything 
 but comforters — disturbing me on the subject in 
 which I was deeply concerned and as deeply impli- 
 cated. Robert was gone. But as no enquiries were 
 made concerning him, except by the juniors of the 
 establishment, it was evident that somebody at head 
 quarters knew both of his going and his whereabouts. 
 I had two fresh bed-room companions who were, 
 alike, agreeable and free from mischief. Neither of 
 them evinced the least disposition or desire either to 
 play upon the " young countryman " or to provoke 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 149 
 
 him to a combat similar to that which had recently 
 taken place in the same apartment. 
 
 After the lapse of a fortnight from the time of 
 Robert's departure, I was one morning startled by a 
 tap on the shoulder from the hand of one of the 
 clerks of the establishment, by whom I was informed 
 that Mr. Branch required my immediate presence in 
 his private counting-house. The announcement had 
 the momentary effect of suspending my power of 
 speech. I looked — and no doubt looked very pale — 
 at the messenger, as I bowed my head in dutiful 
 recognition of his message, without giving any oral 
 sign of my obedience. The cause of the summons, 
 and the reason I had not been summoned before, 
 iioated on my mind in an instant. The probationary 
 time named on the day of my engagement had now 
 expired. I had been in my situation exactly three 
 months. This was the period mentioned by Mr. 
 Branch for testing my business qualifications and 
 disposition for work, The gentleman had waited till 
 the last day of the term — not to acquaint me that I 
 was unequal to the commercial duties to which I had 
 been appointed, but to punish and discharge the hand 
 that had presumed to correct and chastise the nephew 
 of one of the firm. My banishment was certain. 
 Such, at least, was my conviction, as with parched 
 lips and a tremulous frame I approached and entered 
 the office in which Mr. Branch was seated. 
 
150 NUMBER ONE \ OK, 
 
 "Well, sir," exclaimed Mr. Branch, in seeming 
 abstraction, as he was in the act of folding a letter, 
 "I'll settle my business with you immediately. I 
 have been informed — that — you — " 
 
 " It was not by me, sir, the quarrel was begun/' I 
 softly muttered, in anticipation of the dreaded sen- 
 tence, and in hope of its mitigation. 
 
 "What's that you say?" continued Mr. Branch, 
 as he gave the finishing seal to his epistle and placed 
 it in a receptacle marked ( letters for post/ " quarrel ! 
 what quarrel ? — quarrel with whom ? " 
 
 " The quarrel with your nephew, Robert, sir f I 
 reluctantly replied, being suddenly impressed with a 
 sense of my own folly, in having opened the subject. 
 
 " What ! " said Mr. Branch in seeming surprise, 
 " has the young scapegrace returned ? The manager 
 told me he had given him a month's holiday. He'll 
 never be worth his salt. I know nothing of your 
 quarrels ; if you fall out, you must fall in again. But 
 I have lately been informed by the head of your 
 department that he hopes to make a man of you — 
 that is, if your past industry and attention to your 
 duties are to be taken as fair samples of future 
 exertions. We seldom, if ever, reward any youth 
 till he has been in the house at least twelve months; 
 but, in your case, the favorable report of the senior 
 of your department may justify an exception. At 
 present, young man, you will receive a salary of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOELD. 151 
 
 twenty pounds a-year ; and in consideration of your 
 position — did you not say, when I engaged you, that 
 your parents were dead? " 
 
 Observing that my feelings, at the moment, were 
 not equal to a reply, Mr. Branch proceeded : — 
 
 " We have dated the commencement of your pay 
 from the day on which you entered our establishment. 
 You are, therefore, entitled to a quarter's salary. Go 
 on as you have begun, and your reward shall keep 
 pace with your merit. There, young man, take that, 
 and make good use of it." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Branch gave me a five-pound note, 
 and again seated himself at his desk. 
 
 I attempted to acknowledge the gift, and in the 
 attempt did, I believe, produce a sound something 
 like th — th — th — th — ank you, sir. Then, with a 
 feeling that might have been eloquent had it not 
 been mute, I withdrew from the presence of my 
 benefactor, and hastened to rather a gloomy and 
 secluded part of the establishment, called the "lumber 
 room." Here, in a remote corner, behind a pile of 
 empty boxes, I gave vent to a mixture of joy and 
 surprise which equalled, both in quantity and vivacity, 
 any that ever filled and fermented a body of similar 
 proportions. 
 
 Did ever anticipated pain resolve itself into such 
 boundless pleasure ! Never did criminal receive a 
 11 free pardon " with greater joy than that which 
 
152 NUMBER 0>~E; OR, 
 
 now agitated the breast of Frank Foster. At the 
 very moment when I expected to have been trans- 
 ported from the hopeful and busy ranks of commerce 
 to the gloomy desert of despair, my commercial judge 
 and master not only continued me in his service, but 
 sent me again to that service without censure, not 
 only without censure but with praise, not only with 
 praise, but with the substantial reward arising from 
 the cause on which that praise was founded. 
 
 Those of my readers who have been, and who 
 remember the day on which they first became, 
 salaried assistants, may readily compass the agreeable 
 sensations of a penniless youth suddenly invested 
 with a salary of twenty pounds a-year. Twenty 
 pounds a-year ! Did ever twenty thousand pounds 
 a-year yield the rich possessor a happier day than 
 that which made me master of the lesser sum ? Im- 
 possible. Twenty pounds a-year ! Ennobling sound 
 — repeated not only twenty times, but twenty times 
 twenty within the space of the first twenty-four 
 hours in which it became familiar, to my ear. That 
 space comprised one of those brief periods in one's 
 life, during which the supply of human happiness is 
 found equal to the demand. A time when the heart 
 has ceased to look beyond its own possessions for one 
 of the most precious of mortal treasures — a jewel 
 named "content/' 
 
 My probation was now at an end. I was no longer 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 153 
 
 a youth on trial, but a salaried assistant. I was no 
 longer one whose fitness for the early stages of busi- 
 ness had to be tested, but one who had obtained his 
 certificate of qualification ; no longer one whose 
 retention or loss of office could be effected by the 
 undeserved favor or unmerited censure of others, 
 but one whose future advancement depended on that 
 continued application to business, and that earnest 
 desire for knowledge therein, which had already 
 received an early and substantial recognition in a 
 bank of England note. That was, by far, the most 
 valuable piece of paper money that has ever fallen to 
 my lot. Notes of greater monetary value I have 
 had, but not one the intrinsic worth of which could 
 be compared with that of the first. Other notes 
 have been valuable only for the sums they may have 
 represented, but my first note brought knowledge 
 of present, as well as promise of future gain. My 
 first note made me not only a happy young man, 
 but one of the most independent of young men. It 
 established my independence, by proving that I had 
 the means, through the use of my hands, of self- 
 support. It was even so. The happiest and most 
 independent day of my life was that on which I was 
 declared to be entitled, through my own personal 
 exertions, to a salary of twenty pounds a-year ! 
 
 Thus began and ended my first thr.ee months on 
 the great ocean of life. Though not unattended by 
 
154 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 dangers and anxieties, the trip was, on the whole, 
 successfully accomplished. It is one of the few steps 
 in a varied career to which I look back with satis- 
 faction. Had all subsequent steps been equally free 
 from mistakes, there would have been no occasion for 
 the present volume — at least, not from the hand by 
 which it is now penned. 
 
Clraptct fciit. 
 
 DESIRE FOR CHANGE OF OCCUPATION. 
 
It is now twelve months since I entered on the 
 duties of my first commercial situation in the house 
 of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. As junior or 
 " duster " of my department, I had for some time 
 represented an article, the services of which are called 
 into action or laid aside as occasion might require. 
 The scene changes. The boy who had been at the 
 beck and call of the commercial staff, becomes him- 
 self one of the staff, bavins; a boy " at call." I am 
 no longer deputy or lad of all work, but a youth or 
 young man (what youth at 17 is not a young man '/ . 
 occupying, in an important department, the position 
 of third-salesman, at an improved salary of forty 
 pounds a-year ! 
 
 This, an unskilled laborer's first year's crop from 
 the field of commerce, is, beyond doubt, a good one. 
 The hand of labor has produced early and fruitful 
 results. The first harvest is not only rich in itself, 
 but is still richer with promises of that to come. 
 Industry has been amply rewarded, and her future 
 prospect is even better than her present gain. 
 
 Well Does it always follow that each upward 
 step in life yields joy greater than was to be found 
 on that which preceded it ? My second commercial 
 
158 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 season opens auspiciously. A higher position than I 
 have hitherto filled awaits me, and my salary is 
 doubled on the opening day. I am relieved by a 
 junior from the minor duties of office ; I feel not 
 only equal to the requirements of my improved 
 position, but also sanguine of obtaining a higher, 
 and yet a higher post, till I become the head of the 
 department in which fortune first placed me. 
 
 But am I more contented with forty than I was 
 with twenty pounds a-year? Xothing of the kind. 
 Can any one be happier than happy? My salary 
 has been doubled, so have my desires. TVith twenty 
 pounds a-year, my wants were all supplied ; with 
 forty pounds a-year, new discoveries are made, and 
 fresh wants immediately follow. Xo sooner is my 
 footing secure on one path of life, than I cast a 
 lon^ina- eve on another, and another, and another 
 path. 
 
 Here, my young reader, you have already a faint 
 glimpse of one of the greatest mistakes in the life of 
 the writer — perhaps one of the greatest errors in 
 your own life at this moment — viz., a desire for any 
 trade, profession, or occupation other than that in 
 hand. Such desire is not a solitary sound, as it is 
 often heard in the icay of the world. The young 
 draper wishes he had been a druggist, the druggist 
 regrets he was not made a lawyer, the lawyer would 
 have been a doctor, the doctor of medicine says he 
 
THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 159 
 
 ought to have been a doctor of divinity, or a curer 
 of souls instead of bodies; and thus the wish re- 
 sounds from one side of the globe to the other, from 
 merchant as from mechanic, from the sea-sick sailor 
 on his first voyage, as from the home-sick soldier in 
 his first enslavement — each desires to be other than 
 he is. It is not always so, nor is it so with all ; but 
 it is often so, and ever so with many. 
 
 " I should like to be anything but what I am." 
 Whenever such avowal is a faithful reflex of the mind 
 of youth, it reveals that kind of restraint on indivi- 
 dual exertion that often proves a serious obstacle, if 
 not a fatal barrier to future advancement. To 
 originate or encourage personal antipathy to labor 
 by which one has to live, and cannot exchange, is to 
 pick a quarrel with one's own dinner. So long as 
 the meal is needed, it is surely a silly thing to com- 
 plain of the only means by which it may be obtained. 
 The lamentation is a perpetual drag on the wheel of 
 fortune — especially when suspended from the arm of 
 one who retards his own progress in life, without 
 being able to change its course. 
 
 " As thy son will succeed best in the profession he 
 may himself select, check not thy son's inclination." 
 So says a well-known writer, and so say I — that is, 
 if the choice of the son be compatible with the means 
 or station of the parent. It often happens — as in 
 the present case — that either* the loss of parents, 
 
160 number one; or, 
 
 or position of friends, leaves no choice in the matter. 
 In such case, would not a youth do well to improve, 
 rather than to mourn or despise the calling in which 
 circumstances might have placed him ? By improv- 
 ing his position in such calling, he might eventually 
 obtain that to which his heart aspires. Of this, two 
 striking cases will presently be instanced. 
 
 My present improved position is already attended 
 bv one or two of the usual accessions occasioned by a 
 rise in the world. That spot which contains the 
 greatest quantity of sugar is sure to be surrounded 
 by the largest number of flies. Let what may 
 decline, acquaintances ever multiply with each up- 
 ward move in life. This is already perceptible in the 
 second stage of my commercial existence. Without 
 solicitation on my part, my salary is doubled. So is 
 the number of my acquaintances. Unfortunately, 
 the increase represents greater value on the part of 
 the specie than on the part of humanity. But the 
 expensive impression left on the mind by my first 
 faithless companion, Silas Bloomfleld, induced me to 
 regard voluntary friends for what they were worth, 
 or rather to weigh them by their own standard — 
 whether their love consisted in the loan of a guinea 
 or a cigar, or in that rarer and more genuine element 
 of friendship that seeks a return only in the image of 
 itself. 
 
 Yet, for an extende'd knowledge of the icay of the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 161 
 
 world, I found it quite as necessary to form acquaint- 
 ances, as it was desirable to ascertain the individual 
 and relative value of such acquaintances. An iso- 
 lated being becomes as contracted in ideas as in 
 habits. To cage the mind is not the way to insure 
 its expansion. If some of my companions were 
 deficient in those business habits by which I secured 
 their good opinion, others had mastered accomplish- 
 ments in which I discovered my own defects. AVhile 
 in scientific, medical, and other students, I saw profes- 
 sions the duties of which were more in accordance 
 with my own taste than those of a warehouseman, I 
 found at the same time that my desire was soaring 
 beyond either the means or education of its owner. 
 
 But the light that kindled this desire was valuable 
 not merely on account of mental deficiencies dis- 
 covered, but on account of wants thereby created. 
 By the reflection of other minds, I beheld the ad- 
 vantages of a better education than I was then 
 master of. I saw, and saw clearly, that if mental 
 knowledge was not necessary to tbe duties of a 
 warehouseman, its acquisition might benefit the pos- 
 sessor in other ways — if only as a means of defence 
 against a satirical or one-sided compliment in the 
 social circle. " A still tongue may make a wise head," 
 but it occurred to me, during rather a protracted 
 display of my wisdom, that the tongue which is not 
 prepared to be other than still must naturally be 
 attached to rather a stupid head. 
 
 if 
 
162 MJMBER one; or, 
 
 On the strength of this conviction, I resolved to 
 go, and immediately carried out my resolution by 
 going, to school. I was not the only big scholar 
 who felt anxious to improve what had been neglected 
 in the past. The prosecution of my studies every 
 evening from eiorht till ten o'clock soon enabled me 
 to see, in the mental progress I had already made, 
 how far I must previously have been behind — even 
 in the elementary branches of knowledge. 
 
 The value of the ground I had gained created a 
 desire for further advancement ; and when, at a sub- 
 sequent period, the City of London Literary and 
 Scientific Institution was opened in Aldersgate Street, 
 I became one of its first members, of which there 
 was, in a short time, a large number. As it was 
 scarcely possible for young men to pass their evenings 
 here without benefit to themselves, there was nothing 
 very remarkable in the fact that I soon found myself 
 among those who derived greater profit from a read- 
 ing or lecture room, than from a cigar shop or low 
 sinking; establishment. I will not insult those of 
 my young readers whose education may have been 
 neglected either by themselves or friends, by an 
 attempt to elaborate the simple truth that by 
 evening study — by a couple of hours two or three 
 times a week — they may do for themselves what 
 others have failed to do for them. Out of a number of 
 living proofs, I will simply mention two or three cases 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 163 
 
 to illustrate not only the ready acquisition of know- 
 ledge by means of self-instruction, but also the profit- 
 able application of such knowledge when so acquired. 
 
 The first case of unaided self-advancement that 
 occurs to my mind is that of one of the most popular 
 preachers (of the Established Church) of the present 
 day. 
 
 The Rev. Daniel ,the present incumbent of , 
 
 on the south side of London, and lecturer in the 
 
 City, was once an intelligent youth who filled an un- 
 important situation in a warehouse not far from St. 
 Paul's. His occupation was not in accordance with 
 his taste. But his taste soared beyond the means of 
 his respectable but by no means wealthy parents. 
 He joined, and soon became a distinguished member 
 of the literary institution just named. In the dis- 
 cussion class of this institution, he was at once 
 recognised as an able debater, especially on social, 
 philosophical, and historical subjects. In a short time, 
 he was acknowledged the very first member not only 
 of the particular class mentioned, but of the entire 
 institution. On his retirement, his brother members 
 presented him with a very valuable gift. 
 
 The youth now gladly forsook his commercial 
 duties to pursue, at college, studies more in accord- 
 ance with his own taste. 
 
 There was another member of the institution whose 
 early career is still more worthy of note, inasmuch 
 
164 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 as the aspirant's rise to eminence, although as rapid 
 as that instanced in. the foregoing case, was attended 
 by opposition, and was therefore more difficult of 
 attainment. 
 
 Unlike the former, this youth, on his first appear- 
 ance as a speaker in the class of which he was a 
 member, made anything but a favorable impression. 
 His crude style of address and action often proved a 
 source of merriment to those around, while his lofty 
 aspirations (it was whispered in the class that he was 
 anxious to exchange the duties of a draper's shop-boy 
 for those of a barrister) were ridiculed by every 
 member but himself. In his early oratorical and 
 elocutionary efforts he succeeded only in provoking 
 the laughter of his audience. Night after night and 
 week after week, he spoke, or attempted to speak, on 
 every subject under discussion; and night after night 
 and week after week, his impatient audience endea- 
 voured to put him down. But he was not to be put 
 down. Having one evening, during a temporary 
 lull, obtained a hearing, he addressed the members in 
 nearly the following words : — 
 
 u Brother members, — permit me to say a word or 
 two before I retire — (a sudden burst of applause for a 
 moment interrupted the speaker, the applauders sup- 
 posing the persecuted young candidate was about to 
 retire from the contest. Silence restored, the speaker 
 continued) — before I retire to the door for a little 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 165 
 
 fresh air, after those noisy salutations with which my 
 hunihle efforts are invariably greeted. But I Leg to 
 submit one rather important fact for your serious 
 consideration during my temporary absence. 
 
 "Everything and everybody, as you are aware, 
 gentlemen, must have had a beginning. And some 
 of the greatest things, and some of the greatest 
 beings in the world, and some of the noisiest spirits 
 in this class, have had very small beginnings. Mine, 
 a- you well know, and have made me know and feel 
 too, is a very small beginning. But by perseverance 
 and, I trust, improvement, I may, by degrees, rise in 
 the world as others have risen. Thus, in the course 
 of time, I may secure, even here, that good opi- 
 nion which I have hitherto failed to obtain. I am 
 not a poet, gentlemen, although the following lines — 
 prepared for the occasion — may furnish you at the 
 same time with my past position and my future 
 intention in this class : — 
 
 " ' Climbing for knowledge, a little boy, like me, 
 Was one day seen upon a lofty tree ; 
 When bigger boys, like you, on mischief bent ; 
 Aimed at the young one's head — and down he went ; 
 But inspired by courage, though repelled by pain, — 
 To gain the fruit — he climbed the tree again.' " 
 
 The good-humored, cool, yet emphatic manner in 
 which this address was delivered created, for the first 
 time, a slight feeling in favor of the speaker. Having 
 
166 NUMBER one; OR, 
 
 succeeded in obtaining' the ear of his class, his subse- 
 quent speeches were not only listened to without 
 dissent, but were received by approval. His improve- 
 ment was rapid, and his success unequivocal. The 
 only thing that interrupted his future addresses was 
 the applause by which they were greeted. In less 
 than twelve months he became one of the best speakers 
 in the institution. Agreeably with his own determina- 
 tion, he continued to climb the tree of knowledge till 
 he reached a high, if not the highest branch in his 
 profession. The draper's boy that was, is, at this present 
 
 writing, the well-known Mr. Sergeant , one of 
 
 the most eloquent and popular barristers of the day. 
 
 Well. In this case of self-instruction and advance- 
 ment, did the hero originally possess mental talents 
 superior to those owned by the majority of youthful 
 heads ? Nothing of the sort. In youth, the intel- 
 lectual faculties of Mr. Sergeant were not above 
 
 the average. The secret of success cannot here be 
 traced to great or precocious talents, but simply to per- 
 severance, and a resolute spirit on the part of the aspi- 
 rant to make the most of what talent he possessed. 
 
 If this case can prove anything, it can prove this — 
 that success in public speaking is less dependent on 
 the quality of the original stock from which it may 
 spring than on the assiduous cultivation of the same. 
 Perseverance and confidence were the chief elements 
 of success. This youth, with a little talent, and the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 167 
 
 necessary confidence for its application, raised himself 
 from obscurity to eminence, while other youths in the 
 same class, with superior talents, utterly failed for 
 want of confidence in their own powers. Diffidence 
 — in the absence of the requisite perseverance for 
 overcoming the same — has proved a fatal barrier to 
 hundreds of would-be orators. It was nearly so with 
 me. I had only just enough nerve during my early 
 trial to turn the scale in my own favor. Once turned, 
 and confidence acquired, I became a frequent speaker. 
 
 But other young men there were, whose talents far 
 exceeded any I ever possessed, who fell, like tender 
 flowers, on the first rude blast of opposition. They 
 were either held from their desire to speak through 
 fear, or, after their first attempt to say something, 
 were kept in perpetual retirement, entirely through 
 diffidence. Practice is the only remedy for this ; and 
 practice before private friends — in the way of elocu- 
 tionary entertainment, or declamatory addresses — 
 would soon enable the speakers, should they desire it, 
 to command the attention of the public. 
 
 In the future of the poorest boy now living, there 
 may be times and occasions when the fluency of speech, 
 or, at least, the power of giving clear expression to 
 thought, may be of the greatest service. The poor boy 
 may become a man of note ; and it cannot be an agree- 
 able thing for a clever man to make a fool of himself 
 — if only in responding to the toast of his own health. 
 
168 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 But this subject may find an appropriate conclusion 
 in a verbatim report of a speech that was once de- 
 livered to a distinguished company by a gentleman 
 who was clever at almost anything but the art of 
 speech-making : — 
 
 "Mr. Chairman, — ladies — ladies and gentlemen. 
 In returning — in rising to return, ladies and gentle- 
 men — in returning my sincere thanks for the great 
 — for the great and distinguished honor you have — I 
 have just — just conferred, permit me to say that I — 
 I beg to assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that 
 nothing that I can say on the present occasion can 
 sufficiently express my — your — your sense of my 
 kindness — (loud applause and suppressed laughter) 
 — will — kindle a most — I can assure you, ladies and 
 gentlemen, this is — this is the happiest moment of 
 my life — (applause) — and in — in returning from the 
 bottom of my heart — (loud cheers). But it is unne- 
 cessary to say anything — (cries of ( go on') and I trust 
 I have said nothing — (laughter) — nothing on the 
 present occasion that — but I'll not detain you, ladies 
 and gentlemen, by saying that — having said more 
 than I intended to say on the present occasion — I 
 can only say that — that in returning you my sincere 
 thanks, I — I — I beg most sincerely to thank you." 
 (The speaker, on resuming his seat, was rewarded 
 with several rounds of applause of the most unmis- 
 takable kind.) 
 
amer u\ 
 
 AUTHORSHIP— BUDDING SHOOTS FROM 
 EARLY TASTE. 
 
" Determine your future course, boys, and stead- 
 fastly pursue it ! " 
 
 Such were the words once addressed by a self- 
 instructed genius to his three sons, who subsequently 
 became distinguished characters in their respective 
 professions. Here, as in hundreds of cases in the 
 world, the young men had the advantage of making 
 their own choice. But there are other cases, in 
 which there is no choice in the matter — cases in 
 which youths are compelled to take what they can 
 get. Such happened to be my case. It is, no doubt, 
 the exception, not the rule, where a youth has no 
 iuclination or preference of his own in the allotment 
 of his future occupation. It may be fortunate for 
 those who have the privilege of making their own 
 selection. Those who are not so favored have no 
 alternative but that of doing the best they can for 
 themselves. In some cases — as in those instanced in 
 the preceding chapter — the want of assistance is not 
 a bar to advancement in any way in the world that 
 may be selected by young persons in their aspirations 
 to fame or fortune. 
 
 I was now eighteen years of age, had been little 
 more than two years in my first situation, and was in 
 
172 NUMBEE OXE J OR, 
 
 the receipt of a salary of one hundred pounds a-year. 
 Still, I was not satisfied. "While satisfied with the 
 pay, I was not satisfied with the occupation from 
 which the pay was derived. My interest was in the 
 warehouse, but my heart was no longer there. I saw 
 professions that I liked, or thought I should like, 
 better. But unlike those of my fellow class-men in 
 learning, who forsook all emolument and commercial 
 prospect for the attainment of one object, I had not 
 the courage to risk what I had in hand for the un- 
 certainty of obtaining what I desired. In my case, 
 there would have been a greater sacrifice with a 
 smaller prospect of gain, for my salary was greater, 
 and my proficiency in learning less than came to the 
 share of those who changed their occupations. Faith 
 in the old adage — " a bird in hand is worth two in 
 the bush " — induced me, for a time, to retain the 
 contributor to present wants. Nevertheless, I heard 
 other birds whose songs were more in. harmony with 
 the mind of the listener, than the never-varying 
 monetary strain to be heard in the march of com- 
 merce. 
 
 From a very early age — eight or nine years old — I 
 had evinced a love for scribbling, or composing, in 
 metrical form, a certain number of lines or verses, 
 commonly called (by young people) poetry. This was 
 my " hobby." In the common acceptation of the 
 word, a " hobby " refers to an expensive and — apart 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 173 
 
 from the pleasure it may afford the indulger — to an 
 almost useless kind of taste or pastime. But hobbies 
 and hobbyists are not all of the same character. 
 While some hobbies involve an extravagant outlay of 
 time and money, others have an opposite tendency. 
 Some of the greatest men that ever lived have had 
 their " hobbies " — hobbies by which they acquired 
 their greatness. Watt, Stephenson, Shakspeare, 
 Burns, and hundreds of others, when obscure and 
 penniless bovs, indulged in hobbies which led to 
 fame and fortune — while inferior or less gifted minds 
 have, by the cultivation of their natural tastes, 
 benefited the world and themselves in a proportionate 
 degree. A hobby is the natural offspring of the 
 mind, and typifies the character of the mould in 
 which it is formed, or the quality of the soil from 
 which it emanates. It is part and parcel of its 
 parent's being. Should that being be an intellectual 
 and scientific one, the hobby will relate to science, 
 and receive its culture from the intellect. Every 
 hobby has its prototype in the parent mind. My 
 hobby was that of authorship. I wished to become 
 an author, 
 
 Become an author ? " Never think of becoming an 
 author/' This piece of advice is often tendered by 
 one young friend to another. In my early scribbling 
 days, it was a gratuity of which I frequently became 
 the recipient. But kind friends by whom such advice 
 
174 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 is given are apt to estimate the value of what they 
 give, without considering the impossibility of its 
 adoption by those who are already what they are 
 advised not to become. A youth either is or is not an 
 author — or, at least, he either has, or has not the 
 means within himself of establishing his claim to 
 the title. In the infant mind — the author in embryo 
 — the matter already exists, although it may never 
 reach maturity. The germs of authorship are there, 
 though they may never sprout. The ore is there, 
 though the mine may never be worked. " The spirit 
 may exist without the letter." Yet a man must not 
 necessarily be a learned man to be an author. As was 
 remarked in another chapter, education may perfect 
 the shoot, but cannot plant the seed of genius. A 
 mechanic, in the humblest walk of art, may display 
 an inventive genius of the highest order, although 
 he may neither have the means nor the education to 
 perfect what he has invented. On the other hand, 
 the most finished workman is not an author, if he 
 only adds a finish to the design of another. A man 
 may be a classical scholar, but if he has never 
 parented or given to the world an original idea, he 
 is not an author. 
 
 For certes then, so far as I am myself concerned in 
 the matter, I have not, nor ever had, the least pre- 
 tension to anything classical. How should I ? "When 
 launched on the world to do for myself — both with 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 1 ? ! J 
 
 regard to mind and body — in the best way I could, 
 reading and writing comprised the sum total of my 
 scholastic attainments. Add to these the effects of 
 a little dip into mathematics, with a few outward 
 nourishes in composition — made during the evenings 
 passed in a literary institution — and the addition 
 will give the entire educational stock of a youth who 
 wished to become an author. That I was already 
 what I desired to become may presently be inferred 
 by a brief reference to the work on which I was 
 then engaged. As since that period, I have written 
 fifteen or sixteen distinct works — some of which 
 have passed through five editions — there will appear 
 nothing like vanity in the statement that, notwith- 
 standing the want of a finished education, I did 
 become an author. So far, I attained the object of 
 my desire. Whether anything was lost, or what 
 was lost, in obtaining that desire, or whether it 
 proved of its anticipated value to its owner when 
 obtained, may appear in due course. 
 
 During the first two years of my commercial life, 
 I found occasional leisure for the indulgence of my 
 own particular " hobby." Like the lark, I was up 
 early — not to sing, but to write songs ; and, like the 
 nightingale, I often tuned my compositions when 
 other birds were taking their rest. Although I didn't 
 write verses for the " million," I wrote them for a 
 large number of my commercial companions. When 
 
176 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 a new song, an acrostic, or a few verses to commemo- 
 rate some special event, happened to be wanted, 
 either by a friend or a friend's friend, mine was the 
 hand to which was assigned the honor of composition. 
 The pleasure I derived in thus contributing to the 
 poetical wants of my companions was ever an ample 
 return for the task of preparing the mental offering. 
 Neither singer, reciter, nor hearer, ever derived more 
 satisfaction in the illustration of my early compo- 
 sitions than was experienced by the humble individual 
 by whom the words were composed : — 
 
 " Who's the author of that piece ? " 
 
 " Frank Foster." 
 
 To a young writer's heart — at least, it was so to 
 mine — the question admits the value of the work; 
 the answer pays it. 
 
 This sort of self-gratification or heart-felt pride — 
 so long as it does not resolve itself into absolute 
 vanity or personal conceit — is, perhaps, undeserving 
 censure, provided the object or "hobby/' of which 
 the spirit is proud, is not in itself a foolish one. It 
 is an isolated, if not a barren heart, that is not proud 
 of something in the world besides flesh and blood — 
 whether the pride may consist in the knowledge and 
 love of a flower garden, the laws of gravitation, or 
 the study of the stars. 
 
 With those, however, who desire to turn their 
 fancies to some practical account, praise itself soon 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. lit 
 
 ceases to afford satisfaction, unless accompanied by 
 that substantial acknowledgement that places the 
 value of the commendation beyond doubt. The 
 presence of the one proves the worth of the other. 
 And no enthusiast ever yet had a spirit sufficiently 
 buovant to support its owner entirely by the effer- 
 vescent laudations of kindred spirits. Those who are 
 willing to pay for what they approve in the way of 
 entertainment, are better qualified and more disposed 
 to give impartial opinions on the quality of their fare, 
 than those kind friends who are ever ready to approve, 
 when approval is to be the extent of their award. By 
 partial admirers, I had often been told that my songs 
 and verses were " very pretty/' but I now required 
 extended proofs of their beauty. Although several 
 of my poetical pieces had been published in the 
 periodicals of the clay, they had been sent to, and 
 accepted by the editors as gratuitous and anonymous 
 contributions. I now resolved to take the first step 
 towards testing my capabilities, with a view of be- 
 coming a professional author. My stock of poetical 
 pieces not being large enough to form a volume 
 I determined on making my first effort — for the 
 public eye — in a prose sketch of {t City Life " — 
 more especially the Life in which I was immediately 
 engaged. 
 
 In order, if possible, to give a faithful coloring to 
 the characters and scenes to be introduced in my first 
 
 >" 
 
178 number one; or, 
 
 publication, I thought it desirable, in the first place, 
 to obtain something more than a superficial know- 
 ledge of the various subjects to be introduced. I 
 wanted to reach the foundation of certain social as 
 well as commercial anomalies which were yet beyond 
 my comprehension. In the house of Fountain, Pillar, 
 and Branch — as in most large city establishments — 
 the young men and youths had their evenings at their 
 own disposal. From the close of business — six o' clock 
 — till the close of the doors to the private dwelling — 
 eleven o'clock — they had nothing but the dictates of 
 their own inclinations to guide and govern them. 
 About one-fourth of the number of youths in the 
 house applied their leisure to the rational exercise of the 
 body, the cultivation of the mind, and the improve- 
 ment of an indifferent or neglected education. With 
 the remaining three-fourths, there was such a con- 
 trarity of tastes and habits, that I was anxious to 
 learn whether the cause or causes for such diversity 
 could be traced to any other source than the natural 
 inclinations of the young men themselves. Before 
 my opinions were committed to paper, I wanted to 
 learn : — why some young men passed the majority 
 of their evenings, their Sabbaths, and their leisure 
 hours with their riends at home, while other young 
 men seldom visited their friends, and rarely spent an 
 evening, a Sabbath, or a leisure hour at home at all ; 
 why some did everything that was calculated to 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 179 
 
 impart a bloom to the intelligence of youth and 
 vigor to the years of manhood, while others did 
 everything that had an opposite tendency ; why some 
 selected, for mental fare, books with which to elevate 
 the mind and enrich the understanding, while others 
 — if they read anything beyond a Sunday newspaper 
 — were ever ready to dive with avidity into the ful- 
 some romances of the Eugene Sue class, or the 
 trashy productions of other of the black-feathered 
 tribe, whose polluted quills are ever ready to pander 
 to a vitiated taste ; why, in fine, some young men 
 were content with innocent recreation and rational 
 entertainments, while others sought, and were only 
 satisfied with, pastimes and pleasures of an expensive 
 or immoral character ? 
 
 How was I to penetrate the mystery, so as to reach 
 the cause of the contrary currents, and thereby dis- 
 cover whether there was any other cause to be as- 
 signed for the existence of such opposites — beyond 
 the natural and varied tastes of the human mind? 
 Through the instrumentality of my brother ware- 
 housemen, I sought and found opportunities for 
 spending an occasional hour or two, or sometimes 
 an evening, in the family circles of those parents 
 whose sons — aye, and daughters too ! — displayed, 
 in the selection of their pastimes, a contrast as 
 striking as was ever presented between virtue and 
 vice. 
 
180 DUMBER one; or, 
 
 No sooner had I made a number of friendly visits, 
 than the veil of the mystery by which I had been 
 surrounded was partially withdrawn. I saw certain 
 lights that enabled me to unravel a few of the mystic 
 threads of social life — lights by which I could trace 
 a direct line to parental influence on youthful minds 
 and actions. I saw that the follies of some young 
 men, although not founded on parental example, 
 were sometimes occasioned by the want of parental 
 consideration. From my own requirements, no less 
 than what I found to be required by other youths, I 
 knew that young people needed occasional recreation 
 and entertainment. And I soon found that where 
 the head of a family was opposed to, or prevented 
 innocent amusement, the vacancy was often supplied 
 — either at home or abroad — by entertainments of an 
 opposite tendency. In the middle, or commercial 
 class of society, to which my attention was then 
 directed, I found the cheerful aspect of some, and the 
 gloomy aspect of other family circles, quite as re- 
 markable as the opposite effects produced on the 
 youthful branches of such families. A few brief 
 sentences will give a rough outline of the leading 
 features of one or two of the families I visited, and 
 show, at the same time how striking is the contrast 
 caused by the comparison. Take family number 
 one : — 
 
 After the usual labors of the day, when business 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 18l 
 
 and business thoughts had been closed for the night, 
 here might be found Mr. and Mrs. Lamb, surrounded 
 by their little ones — each anxious to contribute to 
 the enjoyment and happiness of the rest, and one 
 and all ready, by their united efforts, to cater for the 
 entertainment of any friendly visitor or visitors that 
 might happen to drop in daring the evening. The 
 family recreations combined the useful with the 
 ornamental, the scientific with the humorous, the 
 mental with the physical, the anecdotical with the 
 musical. Here was something to please every taste, 
 and nothing to offend any. 
 
 Are the visitors parents ? — then a few words from 
 Mr. Lamb on homoeopathy, illustrated by the con- 
 tents of a little medical chest, may indicate how 
 some parents become practical conservators both of 
 their own health and that of their children. Is it 
 the summer season, and are the visitors partial to 
 horticulture ? — then Seymour, the senior lamb of the 
 family, will exhibit, in his highly cultivated little 
 garden and lawn, not only the result of skilful labor 
 on the part of an amateur gardener, but also the way 
 in which that gardener employs his leisure hours and 
 improves his health at the same time. On the other 
 hand, are the days short, the evenings long, and 
 in-door rather than out-door recreations desirable? 
 — then the highly finished drawings from the pencil 
 of the accomplished Clara, the charming vocal and 
 
182 NUMBER ONE; OE, 
 
 instrumental solos, duets, trios, and concerted pieces 
 from other members of an agreeable and happy little 
 band, with an occasional quadrille to vary the enter- 
 tainment, all tend to make an attractive programme, 
 with which to enliven the family circle and entertain 
 any friends that may happen to drop in during a 
 winter evening. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lamb are not slaves to the con- 
 ventional forms of fashionable society. They are not 
 members of those would-be aristocrats who ape the 
 manners of a higher circle, or display, in themselves 
 or their children, an external and artificial grandeur 
 at the cost of internal comfort or domestic wants. 
 They never give large and expensive parties. They 
 are not those showy entertainers who, with every 
 delicacy of the season, give sumptuous enter- 
 tainments to other families — thereby involving the 
 necessity of keeping their own on " short commons " 
 during the intervals. Discretion is the family steward, 
 and prudence the hand by which the supplies are 
 administered. And the pleasure each member finds 
 in the social circle prevents a desire for seeking 
 pleasure elsewhere. 
 
 Change the scene. Take family number two ; — 
 By the fire-side, in an easy, or rather an uneasy 
 chair, sits Mr. Bull — in an unenviable state of ill- 
 humor, both with himself and everybody else. Mr. 
 Bull has had — no novelty in the family — an unlucky 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 183 
 
 day "on change." Nevertheless, the business of the 
 day is, or ought to be, over, and Mrs. Bull and family 
 are anxious for a little innocent recreation or social 
 enjoyment. 
 
 " Papa, dear," says Miss Bull, " may we have a 
 little music this evening ? " 
 
 " No ! " — replies Mr. Bull, in a clap of thunder — 
 11 not in a musical humor ! " 
 
 " "Well then, may Edward and Evelina rehearse 
 their new charade, papa ? " 
 
 " Flummery ! — no ! " (Here the unhappy man 
 turns his attention to the subject in which he is 
 more painfully concerned, and on which he solilo- 
 quizes) . " Consols at ninety-one, and downward 
 bent ! — five hundred lost through not selling out to- 
 day—fool !— fool !— fool ! n 
 
 If the scene be changed to the family circle of a 
 brother, who is a shopkeeper, the lamentation would 
 run thus : — 
 
 " Ten pounds less taken in the shop to-day than 
 yesterday ; — we shall all go to the workhouse ; — 
 music indeed? — sell your piano and look out for a 
 situation ! " 
 
 Thus it is, — in such families the parents fail either 
 to amuse their children, or to let them amuse them- 
 selves. Deprived of all entertainment at home — 
 unless they delight in stern looks and solemn sen- 
 tences — the young Bulls not only seek entertain- 
 
184 
 
 NTJMBEB ONE; OR, 
 
 ment where it is to be found, but often find 
 that which ends in sorrow, if not in ultimate ruin 
 and disgrace. 
 
 Having referred to the Lambs and Bulls of 
 English society of the middle class, I may briefly 
 allude to another family, which is perhaps as 
 well, or better, known than either. Their rela- 
 tions may be found in every part of the United 
 Kingdom. 
 
 This family is named " Stuffem." They are 
 liberal entertainers both of themselves, their chil- 
 dren, and their friends, and their entertainment is 
 entirely of a social character. The Stuffems are for 
 everlasting eating and drinking. They have a large 
 number of friends — persons who are always found 
 where there is plenty to eat and drink and nothing 
 to pay. The Stuffems, in place of intellectual 
 fare, entertain their friends with what is commonly 
 called " a good blow out/'' and the visitors are 
 generally those who can appreciate the entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 In their out-door pleasure, the Stuffems never fail 
 to illustrate the principal feature of their in-door 
 amusement. Go where you will — by rail or by boat 
 — you no sooner start on your journey than you find 
 the attention of the Stuffems directed to a familiar 
 basket, from which they draw their supplies during 
 the remainder of the excursion. You may pass, and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 185 
 
 continue to pass, land and lake scenery of the most 
 charming description ; hut the beauties of nature 
 have no attraction for the Stuffems — while there is 
 anything left in the basket. 
 
 Now, although eating and drinking are very de- 
 sirable pastimes at the proper seasons and places, 
 the vulgar display of such enjoyment is entirely 
 confined to the class of persons alluded to. Their 
 peculiarities are of English origin. So far as my 
 experience goes, this outward show of " stuffing " is 
 not to be seen in any part of the continent. It is 
 only to be found in the United Kingdom — more 
 especially in that part of the kingdom known as 
 England. 
 
 After a goodly number of evenings had been spent 
 in gaining an insight into the " doings " of the 
 various family circles to which I had been introduced, 
 I ventured, with the notes I had taken on social life, 
 together with the more voluminous ones entered on 
 commercial matters, to prepare my first pamphlet for 
 the press. Six weeks — or rather the leisure hours of 
 six weeks thus employed — may be passed over during 
 the five or six minutes with which my young reader 
 may learn the leading features of an incident that 
 might have proved fatal to my prospects in life. 
 The business or sport on which the incident origi- 
 nated did subsequently prove fatal to the commercial 
 hopes of the young gentleman by whom I was, for a 
 
186 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 time, led into danger. It affords a striking illustra- 
 tion of 
 
 THE DANGER OF ASSOCIATING WITH A GAMBLER. 
 
 My early tormentor, Robert Turnbull, whom I bad 
 punished, and whose punishment, for a while, caused 
 me some uneasiness for the safety of my own situa- 
 tion, still held a position in the warehouse, or rather 
 counting-house, of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. 
 Strange to say, from the day on which Robert re- 
 turned to his duties — after having recruited his 
 health and worn out the marks of his chastisement 
 — the hand by which his chastisement had been 
 administered was held in the greatest esteem. On 
 my part, however, the friendship was in no way 
 solicited, and barely reciprocated. Robert's habits 
 were not altogether in unison with the taste of him 
 whom he now regarded as his friend. His family 
 connexions, rather than his own habits, made his 
 friendship endurable, if not desirable. At all events, 
 the position I held in the young gentleman's esteem 
 was envied by many of the clerks and warehousemen 
 in the house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. That 
 house was a wealthy and extensive one, and Robert's 
 uncle was a member of the firm. Mr. Branch had 
 no child of his own, and — unless forfeited by glaring 
 misconduct — there was every prospect of an early 
 partnership for the nephew. Independent of this 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 187 
 
 connexion, Robert's parents were persons of position 
 and property. They honored me with frequent in- 
 vitations, and I was invariably received with kindness 
 and consideration. The only thing that made those 
 visits unpleasant to my (then) modest nature was an 
 occasional reference to my particular tastes — as pat- 
 terns by which the more gaily disposed inclinations 
 of Robert might take a lesson. More valuable than 
 Robert's friendship — there was something else which, 
 probably, induced certain young gentlemen, who had 
 an eye to number one in the way of the world, to envy 
 my acquaintance with the family. There was a 
 lovely, accomplished, and only daughter — but not for 
 me — who was subsequently married to a Baronet. 
 
 It is a wholesome piece of good old English advice 
 that enjoins young people to seek companions above, 
 rather than below, their own station in life. The 
 injunction can have but one meaning — that is, that 
 such companions should be Df every way above 
 those who desire their acquaintance. Can any con- 
 sideration, especially a selfish one, justify a young 
 man in accepting, as an intimate friend, one who 
 disgraces a high position by low habits? In this 
 particular case, the sequel will prove the best answer 
 to the question. 
 
 Betting, smoking, and a disposition for anything 
 in the way of gambling, were a few of the many 
 extravagant propensities of Robert Turnbull. Beyond 
 
188 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 an occasional cigar, I had not, during an acquaint- 
 ance of two years, been tempted to join my compa- 
 nion in any of his expensive pleasures. Unless 
 homeward bent, I seldom accompanied him in his 
 rambles. But who can make a friend of folly, 
 without making a foolish step ? The connexion itself 
 is a step in the wrong direction, but. its continuance 
 is sure to lead to something worse — a step that will 
 be deeper and darker than the first. In his gambling 
 speculations, Robert had one day had a piece of 
 " good luck." Luck ! I never hear that word without 
 a feeling of shame and sorrow at the very sound. It 
 is a fiction of an excited and deluded brain. There 
 is no such thing as " luck.' ; If there is — it is good 
 luck only where a youth, in speculation, loses all he 
 has, rather than wins what he desires, for he will be 
 more likely to be turned from his folly by his losses 
 than by his gains. 
 
 That which Robert designated " good luck," and 
 which, for a brief season, I regarded as such, was 
 the sum of one hundred pounds steeling won by my 
 companion in a lottery. There was at that time a 
 well-known tavern in the city, at which a sort of 
 " sweepstakes " or subscription lottery was organised 
 and carried out — pertaining to every celebrated horse- 
 race that occurred during the year. Each subscriber 
 held a ticket, with the name of some horse entered 
 for a particular race, and in the event of such horse 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 189 
 
 being first, second, or third in the race, the ticket- 
 holder would be entitled to a specified sum — subject 
 to certain conditions and deductions hereafter named 
 according to the amount originally subscribed. 
 
 How many pounds, or scores of pounds, Robert 
 had previously spent in these ventures, without any 
 other result than the loss of the same, I am unable 
 to say. One evening, however, when I was quietly 
 seated in a little private room, and busily engaged 
 composing my work for the press, Robert Turnbull 
 suddenly entered. For a time, I thought he had 
 gone mad. He certainly was mad with excitement. 
 After sending me and the chair on which I was 
 seated flat on the floor, he at once committed my 
 MSS. — the work of a fortnight — to the flames, and, 
 brandishing the poker over his head, he exclaimed in 
 delirious fits of joy and excitement : — 
 
 " Clear out of this ! Take a lesson in something 
 noble ! Look at that ! (Here he threw on the table 
 a bank note for fifty pounds.) Play the fool no 
 longer. There's a little of the superannuated essence 
 of sport ! Put that by for me. I can trust you. 
 Why, Frank Foster, why stick to this scribbling 
 hobby of yours ? You're mad." 
 
 " I am — if you have communicated the disease. In 
 the name of fortune, Robert, what has possessed you?" 
 
 " That's it !" he replied, with a fit of laughter, as 
 he became more subdued and seated himself at the 
 
190 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 table. " Fortune has possessed me, and I intend to 
 invest you with a few of her charms. "Won a hundred 
 yesterday on the Derby. What dy'e think of that, 
 Frank ? There — there's a present for you ! That's 
 a ticket for the Oaks to-morrow. If your horse 
 should win you'll net a hundred pounds ; should he 
 come in second, you'll net fifty, and if he should only 
 get in third, there'll be twenty-five for you. Talk 
 about work ! "Who wants to be working here for a 
 beggarly hundred a-year, when he can win a hundred 
 in a day ? I was with a young fellow yesterday, who 
 netted five hundred on a single race ! And they tell 
 me that Lord Tinsel won over ten thousand ! That's 
 my standard of good luck ! At present, I have only 
 had a small slice — a mere taste ! But it's enough to 
 give one a relish, Frank !" 
 
 Here the sound of the supper-bell, by which we 
 were summoned to our evening meal, suspended the 
 conversation. 
 
 On the following day, I began to think that if 
 Robert had not communicated to me a little of his 
 madness, he had, at least, invested me with a share 
 of his " good luck." Long before receiving the con- 
 gratulations of my friend, who had gone to the races, 
 I was informed that the ticket with which he had 
 made me a shareholder in the speculation, bore the 
 name of a horse which had been placed third in the 
 race ; and that I should thus be entitled to the sum 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 191 
 
 of twenty-five pounds ! Such was the fact. The 
 amount of a quarter's salary in return for a guinea 
 ticket — that ticket a present, too ! 
 
 On his return to town, Robert made me acquainted 
 with the conditions with which the money was re- 
 ceivable. The conditions were as follows : — The 
 winner of the first prize (£100) to pay twenty pounds, 
 the winner of the second prize (£50) ten pounds, and 
 the winner of the third prize (£25) five pounds to- 
 wards providing a " champagne supper " for the 
 general body of subscribers. The prizes to be paid 
 to the winners only on the night of the supper. 
 
 Although I would rather have taken my twenty- 
 five pounds without the conditional supper, the love 
 of money was sufficiently strong to induce my at- 
 tendance at the feast. Rather than lose twenty 
 pounds, I decided to take my seat at table with those 
 whose company and habits I disliked. The supper 
 was a sumptuous one, while the supply of champagne 
 was far greater than the discretion of some of those 
 who seldom partook of so costly a beverage. "When 
 the cloth had been removed, and the young gentle- 
 men had retained their seats sufficiently long to show 
 that wine in the human system — like water on a 
 mill — makes the tongue run, some person, either by 
 accident or design, proposed cards. Whether I 
 acceded to the proposition of "play" of my own free 
 will, or through the persuasion of my friend Robert 
 
192 number one; ok, 
 
 Turnbull, I am now (as on the morning after the 
 game) unable to say. It only remains to add that 
 the twenty pounds which I received at the supper 
 table I lost the same evening, and in the same room, 
 at the card table. I will not add to my own con- 
 demnation by recording my opinion of some of the 
 winners at the card table that evening. While there, 
 I was one of the party of players. If they were 
 tainted, how could I be pure ? But I never gambled 
 after that night. 
 
 Not so with my companion, Robert Turnbull. His 
 " good luck," as he called it, drew him deeper and 
 deeper on that reckless current of speculation that 
 leads its votaries either to ill-gotten gain and misery, 
 or to utter ruin and despair. I tried to turn him 
 from his folly. As my efforts were of no avail, I 
 severed, once and for ever, that friendly tie which — 
 on my part — ought never to have been formed. I 
 still spoke to, but was not again seen walking or 
 smoking with Robert Turnbull. 
 
 The close of Robert's commercial career was a sad 
 one. The close of his earthly career was still more 
 sad. Through a long run of what he called his " bad 
 luck," he ultimately became involved in pecuniary 
 obligations to certain members of the betting frater- 
 nity. In order to relieve his (temporary as he hoped) 
 embarrassment, and tempt luck to flow again in the 
 rio*ht direction, he made free with nearly six hundred 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 193 
 
 pounds — monies belonging to the firm of Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch. And before his anticipated tide 
 of fortune enabled him to replace the absent cash, the 
 deficiency was discovered. 
 
 A few months previous to this affair, a clerk in the 
 same house had been transported for embezzlement. 
 By his relationship with one of the firm, Robert was 
 saved from the like disgrace. But a misfortune as 
 great, or even greater, awaited him. His friends 
 procured for him a situation in Sierra Leone. This 
 might appear anything but a desirable place for a 
 young man whose constitution had been already im- 
 paired by indulgence. But to Sierra Leone Robert 
 was sent, and in Sierra Leone Robert died, from the 
 effects of fever, a month after his arrival. For some 
 time after his death, it was frequently remarked by the 
 young men in the house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, 
 that " Robert was only saved from transportation to 
 be sentenced to death/' while others observed that " he 
 was saved from one of the penalties to pay both." 
 
 Thus, at the age of twenty-one, ended the life of 
 Robert Turnbull. Robert was what some young 
 men called "a fool only to himself." His companions, 
 on whom he wasted his time and money, called him 
 so. Hangers-on, who flattered their dupe while they 
 duped him, called him so— not only, in his absence, 
 called him so, but thought they paid him a sort of 
 compliment by the title. 
 
 o 
 
194 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 Robert did, indeed, play the " fool to himself," by 
 allowing others to play the fool with him. He had 
 a generous but foolish disposition. The generosity of 
 his heart was the bait that induced false friends to 
 study and natter the weak points of their victim. 
 Playing the fool to oneself is an act that is often 
 spoken of very lightly by thoughtless spectators. 
 But it too often proves a serious part for the player. 
 Playing the "fool to himself" was the first act 
 in the sad yet truthful drama in which Robert 
 Turnbull hurried his own life to a close at the ag-e of 
 twenty-one. 
 
 One night of dissipation and excitement in a 
 betting-room, and at a card table, proved enough for 
 me — enough not only to destroy any existing taste 
 for such sport, but to obviate the necessity for a 
 repetition of a dose by which the nausea produced by 
 the indulgence had been cured. The surfeit increased 
 my taste for retirement, and for the harmless scrib- 
 bling from which I had been withdrawn. Although 
 Robert, in his uncontrollable joy, arising from that 
 (t good luck " which gave him his first prize and the 
 key to his ruin, had committed my literary notes to 
 the flames, I completed my little pamphlet in six 
 weeks. 
 
 The book was published in Paternoster Row. 
 Among a certain class of citizens — warehousemen — 
 it caused a good deal of talk, and that talk made the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 195 
 
 work sell, and sell freely. The commercial and social 
 evils mentioned, and the remedies suggested, might 
 have aided, and, no doubt, did aid the sale of the 
 pamphlet. The crudity of the composition was, 
 certainly, not the cause of its success. But it was 
 successful. This may be inferred from the simple 
 fact that in less than twelve months four thousand 
 copies of my little shilling book had been sold. 
 
 How shall I describe the sensations produced on 
 my mind by my first literary success? For two 
 reasons, I will attempt nothing of the sort. Those 
 who have experienced the like sensations would 
 alone comprehend them ; and to the majority of my 
 readers an attempted description might seem almost 
 as extravagant as the joy occasioned by the first 
 success of my late companion — the young gambler. 
 If poor Robert Turnbull was driven mad by the 
 speed of the horse that brought him his first prize, 
 I was unconsciously taken a long way in the same 
 direction by the success of mx first book. 
 
 The question about my becoming a professional 
 author was now settled — of course in the affirmative. 
 That which had ceased to be a question was suc- 
 ceeded by another question of still more importance : 
 — " If a little book which had been written in six 
 weeks had produced its author a net profit of eighty 
 pounds, what amount ought to be realized by a big 
 book, or the portions of a book, on which the same 
 
196 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 author had been engaged many years ? " Though 
 unable by any mathematical rule to determine the 
 exact sum to be expected from the more important 
 work of the two, my own imagination permitted me 
 to anticipate a very large amount. Fortunately, in 
 the early stages of my career, my movements were 
 regulated by a certain degree of caution. After due 
 consideration, prudence suggested the retention of 
 my commercial situation till the issue of a second 
 literary work had confirmed and enlarged the success 
 caused by the publication of the first. 
 
 Poems ! — poems ! — poems ! Collecting all I had 
 composed, I granted my muse twelve months to 
 make an addition to the number — confident in the 
 belief that, at the end of the allotted period, I should 
 be prepared to satisfy the public with a volume of 
 poems that would make a man of the author ! 
 
Cjrajpter *. 
 
 HONEST JOHN.— A LITTLE LEGACY. 
 
Who is there that has not occasionally, if not 
 often, heard some reverend gentleman, after an 
 eloquent description of the way of the world, at once 
 localize and concentrate the general application of 
 his argument and its object, by a direct appeal to 
 those around him, in the sharp-pointed home thrust 
 — "are such, my dear hearers, your ways? M 
 
 Reader ! don't be alarmed. I am not going to 
 preach a sermon. Nor am I an advocate for ser- 
 monizing, except by proper persons, and in proper 
 places. I am simply about to preface a social inci- 
 dent in my own life, by one or two questions which 
 will bear on the subject in hand, and may, possibly, 
 evoke, on the part of others, a kindred recognition of 
 a truthful story. I will not even deal in generalities, 
 unless my own case should happen, unfortunately, 
 to have a general bearing. Beyond the parabolical 
 aspect of the questions, I will not be personal, as 
 the particular incident in question will affect no one 
 but the narrator. 
 
 Well, reader; did you, from friend or stranger, 
 ever receive either kind attention to your immediate 
 wants, seasonable but unsolicited favors, or some 
 special act or acts of generosity for which, on your 
 
200 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 part, gratitude failed to make a suitable return ? 
 Have you in your early career been indebted for 
 something either in money, good advice, or personal 
 advancement, that has tended to promote your own 
 welfare; — and have you, at a subsequent period, 
 altogether forgotten, or failed to acknowledge the 
 gratitude due to your benefactor or benefactors ? 
 Have the changes of fortune, the allurements of life, 
 or the attractions of an improved position, made 
 you forget — as many are apt to forget — even father, 
 mother, brother, sister, or some valuable friend, un- 
 connected by family ties, who assisted you when you 
 needed assistance? 
 
 If a charitable heart brings its own reward, an 
 ungrateful heart will some day bring its own punish- 
 ment. In the case I am about to mention, the heart 
 was full of gratitude — but the gratitude remained at 
 home. The fact of having the means to pay, while 
 leaving unpaid, a just debt, is not a plea with which 
 to satisfy a creditor. Nor will such knowledge long 
 satisfy the awakening conscience of a debtor. 
 
 When, without friends, and with only a few pounds 
 in my pocket, I first arrived in London to seek my 
 own fortune — had I known anything of the way of 
 the world, or had I allowed the hand of experience 
 to put me at once in the right way — I might have 
 avoided many, if not all, of those personal wants and 
 annoyances, to which I was subject before my first 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 201 
 
 situation had been procured. On the first day, how- 
 ever, of my arrival in London I found a real friend. 
 But, not knowing the value of the prize, I at once 
 forsook it for a counterfeit. The exchange and con- 
 sequent effects thereof are described in the early part 
 of the volume. There also will be found a brief 
 notice of the friend alluded to. 
 
 Honest John. He it was who became the orphan's 
 friend when that orphan had no other friend in the 
 world. He it was who would have cared, and did 
 care, both for my spiritual and temporal welfare, 
 when I was unable to care for either. He it was 
 whose home I forsook and whose advice I disregarded, 
 when by a false friend I was drawn into trouble. But 
 the exchange proved a lesson for my inexperience, 
 rather than the total loss of my only friend. Though 
 I withdrew from the friendship and protection of 
 Honest John, Honest John did not withdraw his 
 friendship and protection from me. When self-abase- 
 ment brought shame, and shame caused me for a 
 time to suffer the loss of, rather than to seek the 
 boon I had rejected, Honest John — unknown to the 
 truant — discovered my whereabouts and secretly ad- 
 ministered to my wants. My first landlady was 
 herself the key by which I discovered the faithless- 
 ness of my early companion, and the true worth of 
 my benefactor, Honest John. Of the worthlessness 
 of the one, or of the real value of the other, I might 
 
202 
 
 NUMBER ONE J OK, 
 
 still have been ignorant, had my ignorance not 
 been enlightened by the selfishness and treachery of 
 Mrs. Pepper. 
 
 Honest John was my first and greatest benefactor. 
 He assisted me at a time when I most needed assist- 
 ance — when I wanted a meal, and wanted the means 
 to obtain it. How far, then, did I display by out- 
 ward signs, or how long did I retain through the 
 heart's reflection, a becoming sense of gratitude for 
 benefits thus received on the very dawn of my com- 
 mercial existence ? Like that of any other hungry 
 animal that remembers for a time the hand by which 
 its wants have been supplied, instinct, if not grati- 
 tude, evinced a keen sense of the quarter from which 
 I had derived material or bodily aid. Though the 
 value of a gift may sometimes obscure the giver, it 
 is almost impossible to enjoy a boon and altogether 
 forget its origin. Animal nature only turns to the 
 source of its last supply when another supply is 
 needed. But in human nature a consciousness of 
 coming wants, even during the enjoyment of present 
 ones, ever keeps the mind alive to the fountain-head 
 — at least, so long as anything is supplied or may be 
 expected therefrom. 
 
 "When T entered, and for some time after I had 
 entered, on the duties of my first situation, Honest 
 John was first and foremost in my affections. He 
 had treated me as a considerate parent treats his own 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 203 
 
 child ; and I regarded him as a dutiful son regards 
 an affectionate parent. TYhile at the close of business 
 I frequently spent an evening with him and his in- 
 telligent Amy, I seldom, if ever, failed to pass the 
 Sabbath day in their company. The sacred character 
 of that day was, perhaps, a little more rigidly observed 
 than was at all times agreeable. Yet, in the com- 
 pany of Honest John, I never objected to do as John 
 did — even if unable to feel as John felt. If his prac- 
 tical Christianity was something I could more readily 
 appreciate than his christian piety, the benefit I had 
 received from the one made me, at least, respect the 
 other. I was thankful for the hospitality of my 
 mortal benefactor — even while I failed, in the proper 
 spirit, to return thanks to Him who gave each his 
 daily bread. Going to church at this time was, on 
 my part, a ceremony performed more out of respect 
 to Honest John than to anything else. How many 
 times have I been seated near a pulpit, when my 
 mind has been anywhere else ? How often during 
 divine service have I been gathering from the ima- 
 gination a choice bouquet of wild flowers for some 
 poem of my own ? \Yhat figure shall number the 
 periods when the rising up and sitting down of a 
 congregation alone reminded me of what was going 
 on in church, till it was time to go away ? 
 
 It is not for me to premise what benefit, if any, 
 may ultimately be derived by oilier listless frequenters 
 
204 number one; or, 
 
 of a place of worship. If, on my part, any future good 
 arose through subscribing an attendance to what I 
 neither objected to nor sought after, the circumstance 
 will be duly noted. At present, I will simply state 
 what was the immediate effect of good example. If 
 going to church, at the instigation of Honest John, 
 failed either to make me religious, or even attentive 
 to religious service, it, at least, imprinted on the 
 mind a never to be effaced regard for those who were 
 better than myself. While my own portrait bore 
 testimony to the truth of the old adage that " people 
 who go to church are not all good people," the 
 wickedness of one half of the flock, of which I 
 formed an unit, tended only to display more clearly 
 the virtues of the other half. I knew that Honest 
 John didn't go to church to make money, though he 
 gave a good deal to the poor ; I knew he didn't go 
 to church to please other people, for — however well 
 known he might have been by the frequenters of the 
 parish church in his native town — he was, probably, 
 not known by a dozen of the regular congregation at 
 the parish church of Islington. I knew a little — 
 no one but himself knew all — of the daily aid he 
 secretly rendered to those in distress. This know- 
 ledge induced me to think, if the readiness manifested 
 by Honest John to administer to the temporal wants 
 of others had anything to do with a desire he evinced 
 for his own spiritual welfare, there must be some 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 205 
 
 precious gem in the habit of Christianity, the value 
 of which is known only to the wearer. Therefore, I 
 believed in the good things associated with christian 
 life, although I was not yet familiar with the treasures 
 from which the christian contributed so much both 
 to his own happiness and that of others. The con- 
 sequence was, that I always, from this time, respected 
 those whom I believed to be truly pious, although I 
 was not myself one of the number. At no period 
 of a varied career did I ever countenance anything 
 in the way of light or irreverent remarks on the 
 subject of religion. 
 
 But it was not the love created by the good 
 qualities of Honest John that alone induced the 
 frequent visits which I made to my benefactor during 
 the first few months of my commercial probation. 
 Those visits were occasioned partly by gratitude for 
 past kindness, and partly through a natural desire to 
 enlist sympathy for present troubles. TThen the 
 human heart has a grievance, it seeks that conside- 
 rate friend who is, at least, ready to offer consolation 
 for the complaint, even if unable to cure the malady. 
 \Yhile I had many grievances and only one friend — 
 when the youths in the house in which I filled my 
 first situation were all against the "vouno- countrv- 
 man/' and I found none but an old countryman to 
 take my part, Honest John gave me counsel, comfort, 
 and protection. His advice cheered my spirits under 
 
206 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 difficulties, fortified my courage for increased energy, 
 and imparted that firm and fearless tone to honest 
 action that converted enemies into friends, and raised 
 me to a position in the good opinion of my em- 
 ployers which made me independent of all below. 
 
 The numerous troubles and difficulties that pre- 
 sented themselves in my opening career were now at 
 an end. AY hat followed? The benefactor to whom 
 I was indebted for valuable aid in the cure of com- 
 plaints incidental to the first stage of a commercial 
 life, was soon treated like a physician whose services 
 are no longer required by his once drooping but now 
 restored and cheerful patient. Number one was " all 
 right/' My steps were again firm. I was equal to 
 my own guidance in the way of the world, and had no 
 further occasion or desire for the advice or assistance 
 of another. At the time when troubles were on the 
 increase, my visits to Honest John were many and 
 long. But now, when I had no grievances, or was 
 sufficiently strong to master those which presented 
 themselves, the visits to my benefactor gradually 
 became less both in number and duration. So long 
 as advice and assistance were needed, my mind was 
 sufficiently elastic to yield to a few distasteful cus- 
 toms, in order to obtain an object. AY hen the occa- 
 sion for personal favors had been withdrawn, personal 
 sacrifice was no longer a necessity. AYhen — which 
 was not often — I did pay a visit to Honest John, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 207 
 
 such visits were made and ended either before prayers 
 durino" the week, or after church-time on Sundays. 
 Gratitude still prompted me to offer my respects to 
 an old friend, so long as the duty involved no fur- 
 ther obligation. But when the performance of that 
 dutv was made unpleasant by an occasional hint from 
 my host that I was neglecting certain important 
 duties of my own, even gratitude itself strove to 
 avoid so bold a creditor ; and from this time Honest 
 John seldom beheld the youth whose spiritual and 
 temporal welfare he had so much at heart. 
 
 Number one is a figure in youth that imper- 
 ceptibly grows with his own growth. Its expansion 
 is typified by every new coat, cap, or other gar- 
 ment, the size of which exceeds that by which it 
 was preceded. The increased and increasing pro- 
 minence of the figure may be seen by anyone but 
 the wearer. At every stage — boy, youth, and young 
 man — the heart is inclined to think more of itself 
 and less of others. Such is the figure described by 
 Honest John — of self, which denotes the great majo- 
 rity of mankind. The other number one had no 
 mean representative in that (noble) man — of which 
 only a feeble sketch is here given — who, in naming 
 a few of the leading: features of the character unin- 
 teutionally drew his own. 
 
 In the way of the world, the attractions were too 
 many and too great, and exercised on the mind an 
 
208 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 influence of too much power to allow me any longer 
 to subject myself to certain forms and restrictions to 
 which I had previously submitted in the way fol- 
 lowed by Honest John. In lieu of daily or weekly 
 calls on my benefactor, extended intervals of one, 
 two, three, and four months successively served to 
 divide the periods of visits, which grew shorter as 
 they became less frequent. 
 
 One evening, after an interval of about six months, 
 I called at John's lodgings, with the intention of 
 leaving a card — a case of visiting cards had just been 
 added to my personal requisites — and proceeding, 
 with the companion by whom I was accompanied, 
 on some errand of more importance. The opportu- 
 nity, however, for the presentation of " my card " 
 was unexpectedly delayed. The door was not opened, 
 as usual, by the servant of the house, but by the 
 gentle Amy, the adopted child — now a blooming lass 
 of eighteen — of Honest John. 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Amy, in seeming surprise, 
 " here's Frank — I beg pardon — Mr. Foster, I declare/' 
 
 The sudden flight of the speaker from the familiar 
 " Frank " to the formal " Mister " appeared like an 
 appropriate but severe satire on the personal vanity 
 indicated by the highly-glazed card I held in 
 my hand ready for the servant, but which I now 
 returned, like a dishonored bill, to the pocket of its 
 owner. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 209 
 
 " Won't you walk inside, Mr. Foster ? " enquired 
 Amy. 
 
 " Not this evening. I have a friend with me." 
 " There is room enough for your friend/' she replied. 
 "I am aware of that. But I merely called to 
 enquire after John. How has he been this long 
 time?" 
 
 " Very ill," replied Amy, with an ominous shake 
 of the head. 
 
 " Very ill ? " I repeated in surprise. u How long 
 has he been ill ? " 
 
 " Nearly six months." 
 
 " Six months ? This is the first time I have heard 
 a word about it." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Amy, in an assumed tone of 
 wonder. " I suppose, then, it must be six months 
 since you made any enquiry ? " 
 
 " Why — it is, I believe, some time since I — (here 
 
 an indescribable feeling of shame suddenly fired the 
 
 heart with a bitter consciousness of ingratitude) — 
 
 •called. But other engagements have prevented me 
 
 from — has John been confined to bed ? " 
 
 u Yes; and is still confined to his room." 
 
 " Tell him I have been so much engaged of late 
 
 that I — no; I'll see him myself. Walk in Harry. 
 
 Amy, please to show my friend to the sitting-room. 
 
 I'll ascertain, at the bed-room door, whether I can 
 
 see the invalid." A rap on the door, followed by an 
 
 p 
 
210 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 invitation to " Come in ! " soon decided the question, 
 and introduced me at once to the presence of Honest 
 John. 
 
 Patient sufferer ! cruel benefactor ! — cruel only in 
 being kind. "Why were you not angry, that I might 
 have found an excuse for my long absence ? Why did 
 you not scold me, that I might have found an excuse 
 to depart ? Why, on my entrance, did you at once 
 greet me with a ready hand and a smile of welcome 
 from a warm heart? Why did you condone a 
 grievous fault, and at the same moment, and with 
 the same breath, prick a guilty conscience with — 
 "I suppose, by your long absence, you have been 
 busy lately, Frank ? " And why with kind words and 
 cheerful strains did you add to the love that already 
 inconvenienced the bearer ? Why did you re-win 
 the affections I tried to estrange — when they told of 
 duties which were not always convenient or agreeable 
 to perform ? Why did you make sorrow a subject 
 for joy, why in sickness were you all sunshine, and 
 why did your lively spirit cheer the heart of one who 
 expected nothing but frowns and gloomy apprehen- 
 sions ? 
 
 Ten minutes. That was the time I proposed to 
 pass with Honest John ere I entered his room. Two 
 hours. That was the time I had unconsciously passed 
 with my sick friend when I left his room. The cause 
 of the difference between what was intended and what 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 211 
 
 was done can only be assigned to the unexpected 
 treatment that created an extension of time,, and con- 
 cealed the knowledge of the same from the mind of 
 the visitor. I anticipated distasteful fare, but was 
 treated with an agreeable repast. Honest John at 
 once secured my attention and interest by turning to 
 the scenes of my childhood, and by relating a truthful 
 history of the rise and fall, the sayings and doings, 
 and the vices and virtues of those I had either known 
 or heard of " at home. ; ' 
 
 Contrary to expectation, the interview, notwith- 
 standing the illness of the host, had afforded me 
 much pleasure. Yet there was an absence of some- 
 thing at that meeting which afterwards caused a good 
 deal of reflection. It was a vacuum I was altogether 
 at a loss to understand. Not a word had been said 
 by my sick friend on the subject of religion. He had 
 not even treated me to a chapter in the Bible. Had 
 he done so, it would simply have been regarded by 
 the visitor as a family habit, and I should have 
 thought no more about the matter after it had been 
 over. But now the subject presented itself not onl\ 
 once or twice, but, at least, a hundred times. The 
 absence of the sacred volume was something so re- 
 markable, that the Book was ever before me. It 
 floated on the mind again and again — not to bring 
 me to a daily study of its contents, but to excite my 
 surprise at Honest John — when we had not met for 
 
212 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 so long a period — having omitted his former invari- 
 able custom. Was the omission caused by a change 
 of taste on the part of the good man ? If so, his 
 entire nature must have undergone a change. "When 
 I was his frequent visitor, Honest John would not 
 have laid aside his daily custom for any one — not 
 even if Pope Nono had been his guest. How did it 
 happen, then, that the Book was not introduced on 
 the occasion of my visit, after so long an absence ? 
 In spite of opposition, the intrusion of this question 
 on the mind caused me to think more about the Bible 
 in one week, than I had done during the preceding 
 twelve months. 
 
 The world is made of wonders. From nature as 
 from art, there has ever been, and ever will be, a 
 constant flow of surprises. A perpetual motion may 
 some day astonish mankind. But the fundamental 
 principle of such motion will then, as now, be as old 
 as the hills, for the world itself has ever been, and 
 ever will be, a perpetual motion of surprises. In the 
 great social circle of humanity, the daily incidents of 
 wonder are probably more numerous than those 
 which, ever and anon, arise in the commercial, poli- 
 tical, and scientific arenas of life. !N"or does the 
 universality of a surprise make it more exciting to 
 those concerned than if it were a shock confined to a 
 couple of homesteads or a pair of human hearts. The 
 surprise of a dethroned monarch at the unexpected 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 213 
 
 loss of his sceptre is not greater than the astonish- 
 ment of a lad suddenly caught in the act of stealing 
 an apple from a neighbour's garden. 
 
 For two hours, Honest John had entertained me 
 with a variety of surprising tales. The humorous 
 manner in which these were told by one who (as it 
 subsequently proved ) was within a few days of death, 
 formed a subject of surprise for his visitor long after 
 the heart that caused the reflection had ceased to 
 beat. 
 
 Strange coincidence ! During the time a sick 
 friend was captivating my ear and laying the basis 
 for future wonder, my companion in the adjoining 
 room was (as it subsequently appeared) laying the 
 foundation for a surprise that would prove quite as 
 startliDO' as its twin disturber. Two hours' conver- 
 
 o 
 
 sation between my gallant young friend, Harry 
 Shorthose, and the gentle Amy, had already prepared 
 the way for opening a clandestine correspondence, 
 the issue of which will be recorded hereafter. 
 
 On the third day after my interview with Honest 
 John, I received the following note : — 
 
 " Thursday morning. 
 " Dear Fraxk, 
 " Since you were here on Monday, uncle has been 
 gradually getting worse. Last night he had very 
 little sleep, and he is much exhausted this morning. 
 
214 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 He desired me to say he would be glad to see you 
 if you can spare time to run up this evening. 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "AMYEASTO. 
 " Mr. F. Foster." 
 
 In a twofold sense, this epistle was the bearer of 
 most unwelcome intelligence. I was not only sorry 
 to hear of the more serious illness of my benefactor, 
 but I was also sorry that his summons could not be 
 obeyed at the time named. In order to celebrate the 
 anniversary of the birthday of a young lady friend, I 
 had just composed a charade, in which the author was 
 himself cast for one of the leading characters. This 
 evening was to be the final rehearsal of the same. 
 The grand performance was appointed for the mor- 
 row, for the evening of which a party of friends had 
 been invited by the parents of the young lady in 
 whose honor the entertainment was to be given. 
 
 As author, conductor, and leading performer in the 
 literary or dramatic part of the soiree, my heart, my 
 ability, and my reputation had each too large a stake 
 in the undertaking to forego the praise, or sacrifice all 
 the honor thereof — even for the best friend in the 
 world. I never for a moment supposed that Honest 
 John was dangerously ill. I therefore decided on 
 writing a letter, expressive of sorrow at the intelli- 
 gence I had received, at the same time informing my 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 215 
 
 correspondent that the invitation conveyed in her 
 note could not — owing to previous important en- 
 gagements — be personally responded to for a couple 
 of days. 
 
 The night and the hour appointed for the soiree 
 had arrived. The cab that was to have conveyed me 
 thither stood at the door of my city home. I had 
 just completed my toilet, when one of the servants of 
 the establishment knocked at my bed-room door, 
 handed me a card, and said, a gentleman who had 
 just alighted from his carriage was waiting in the 
 hall, and wished to speak with me immediately. 
 Seeing the card bore the name of " Dr. Daniel," whom 
 I knew to be Honest John's medical adviser, an 
 involuntary shudder — the sudden offspring of some 
 dismal foreboding — seemed almost to prostrate the 
 entire system with the fear of a revelation of a 
 terrible calamity. Have I lost my benefactor ? Have 
 I disregarded his summons when I was summoned, 
 perhaps, to receive his parting farewell or final bless- 
 ing ? The effect on the mind of a flash from these 
 doubts withdrew nearly all support from the legs 
 that bore an agitated frame to the presence of an 
 unexpected visitor, who was waiting either to confirm 
 or relieve my gloomy apprehensions. 
 
 " Good evening, young gentleman," said Dr. 
 Daniel, as I descended the stairs leading to the hall. 
 " Having had occasion to drive in this direction, I 
 
216 NUMBER one; OB, 
 
 was requested to inform you that your friend lies in 
 a very precarious state." 
 
 Sad as was the tenor of this intelligence, it at once 
 relieved mv mind of an immense weight of anxiety — 
 fearing, as I did fear, the speaker was about to tell 
 not of the living, but of the dead. 
 
 " Then, your patient is not dangerously ill, is he 
 doctor ? M I enquired. 
 
 "His condition is, perhaps, less favorable than 
 when you saw him this morning." 
 
 " I — I have — not seen him this morning," I replied 
 with hesitation, and not without shame. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said my informant. " Has he not ex- 
 pressed a wish to see you? " 
 
 " Yes; — but — having a — a particular — engagement 
 for this evening, I intended to see him early in the — 
 but I'll go at once. Perhaps, doctor, I may be able 
 to fulfil my engagement afterwards ? " 
 
 " You will be the best judge of that. I simply 
 advise you to see my patient first." 
 
 " I will do so," I replied as my visitor took his 
 departure. 
 
 " Precarious state ! Precarious means uncertain. 
 I am uncertain whether this is one of the evasive 
 answers of a medical man, or whether Honest John 
 is really in a dangerous state. It only wants a quarter 
 to eight o'clock. The party, for which I am dressed, 
 is invited to meet at eight. How can the play be 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 2 1 ? 
 
 performed without the leading character ! Should I 
 disappoint my friends, they'll never forgive me. I 
 must go. But should anything serious happen to 
 poor John before I have seen him, I should never 
 forgive myself. \Yhat shall I do ? " 
 
 As I stood in the hall, putting these queries to 
 myself, a double knock induced me to think my 
 visitor had returned. "When I had partially opened 
 the door, the doctor introduced his head, and in a 
 subdued tone said, " I omitted to mention that my 
 patient desires to say something to you on the 
 subject of a little legacy." With this remark, the 
 doctor again withdrew, entered his carriage, and 
 hastily drove off. 
 
 " A little legacy ! Dear old man ! " 
 
 "Was it the singular sensation created by the un- 
 expected announcement of " a little legacy," or was it 
 my own unselfish love for the " dear old man/' that 
 gave birth to the tear which at this moment trickled 
 down my cheek ? Conscience may be pardoned for 
 leaving this question unanswered. Though an honest 
 answer might reflect a leading feature in the way of 
 the world, it would not, it is hoped, reflect all the 
 world. 
 
 The origin of the sensitive tear that came forth at 
 the sound of u a little legacy" may be partially 
 traced by what followed. It was no longer the fes- 
 tivities of a birthday party, but the solemnities of a 
 
218 NUMBER ONE; OH, 
 
 sick man's room that now engaged my mind. It 
 was no longer the comic but the serious drama of life 
 that impelled my movements, when in the cab that 
 was to have conveyed me to a place of merriment, 
 I was hastily driven to a scene of sorrow. 
 
 " A little legacy ? Dear old man ! Is this your 
 return for my ingratitude ? Impossible. The thing 
 must be altogether a delusion. Either by the doctor 
 or his patient, the idea has originated in a dream. 
 Why a legacy for me ? I have a good situation, and 
 can earn money enough for my own support. Amy 
 is entirely dependent on Honest John. Can he from 
 the adopted child, who has done everything to please 
 him, take one shilling for the benefit of a youth who 
 has done everything to incur his displeasure? I 
 think not. Yet, the best of men sometimes do 
 strange things, and the worst of men as often get 
 what the best alone merit. Who shall say that 
 Honest John may not leave me a legacy of two or 
 three hundred — just to make me feel I never deserved 
 it ? Three hundred ! What a godsend ! But I 
 haven't at present got it. Three hundred pounds ! 
 A nice little legacy ! I could do wonders with it 
 — at least I could see wonders, and that, perhaps, 
 would be easier than doing them. Three hundred — 
 perhaps five hundred pounds ! Charming legacy ! 
 What would I — or what would I not do with it ? I 
 would no longer study French and German in the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 219 
 
 evening classes of our literary institution, for no 
 young men with money go there. I would no longer 
 o-ive Gratuitous instruction to the charity children of 
 our parish school, for no young men with money go 
 there. But I know where I would go. Fd go up 
 the Rhine, for everybody with money goes there. Fd 
 go to the opera once a-week, for everybody with 
 money goes there. I'd go ." 
 
 At this moment the cab stopped at the house in 
 which Honest John resided. Leaving both the con- 
 veyance and my soliloquy on possibilities, I at once 
 proceeded on my way to the benefactor from whom I 
 expected " a little legacy." On entering the sitting- 
 room, my fears were again awakened. Here was 
 the gentle Amy — " like Niobe, all tears." She was 
 under a cloud that never breaks on one member of a 
 family without affecting the entire circle. TVhen to 
 my enquiry of " How is John this evening?" Amy 
 responded only by sobs and sighs, my own spirit be- 
 trayed internal symptoms of a partnership in sorrow, 
 although I endeavoured to restrain and conceal all 
 outward signs of the same. The veil of suspense and 
 uncertainty by which I was surrounded was at length 
 removed by an old woman who emerged from the 
 adjoining bed-room. 
 
 "Rallied! — in course, he has," said Mrs. Tuck, as 
 she entered the sitting-room. " I told you he'd rally, 
 didn't I, Miss ? — in course I did. Well, well ; nursing 
 
~20 NUMBEE ONE; OR, 
 
 aint the most inwiting of callings, is it Miss ? I hopes 
 you'll never come to that. Is there a little drop of 
 gin in the bottle ? " 
 
 Mrs. Tuck, hereupon, took from a corner cupboard 
 a bottle of gin, from which she filled a large wine 
 glass, and drank the contents with a smack of the 
 lips that seemed to flavor the draught. 
 
 " If all inwalids suffered as patiently as your dear 
 old uncle, why there's nobody as wouldn't have a 
 friend or two always ill, jist for the pleasure a wait- 
 ing on 'em. Beg pardon, sir," she continued, on 
 discovering a visitor of whose presence she was not 
 previously aware. " Is this the young gentleman as 
 master has been asking" for ? " 
 
 Amy signified her assent. 
 
 "Been abroad, sir, I s'pose?" continued Mrs. 
 Tuck. "Master's been looking for you these two 
 days and more. Miss Easto was a thinking you'd be 
 too late to see the poor old gentleman — that is, you'd 
 be too late for him to see you. Matters did seem 
 very doubtful a little while ago. But I said he'd 
 rally ; and so, in course, he did. Can't disturb the 
 dear man now. He's gone off into a wery comfortable 
 doze. But I'll tell you the moment you can come in. 
 The Lord be praised, you'll find a patient sufferer. 
 It does one's heart good to see such christian wirtue." 
 
 Mrs. Tuck re-entered the bed-room of Honest 
 John, and was immediately followed by Amy, whose 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 221 
 
 countenance had considerably brightened on hearing 
 that an improvement had taken place in the patient. 
 
 Fearing from what I had already gathered, through 
 the deep distress of the gentle Amy, and from the 
 ominous words of a mechanical sort of nurse, that my 
 benefactor was not only dangerously ill, but that he 
 was, probably, near the period of his dissolution, an 
 indescribable feeling of awe accompanied the direful 
 supposition. I had never witnessed the reality of a 
 death-bed scene. But my -imagination had pictured 
 such a scene in the darkest colors. Mental and phy- 
 sical agony, heart-rending groans, hideous contortions 
 of the body, and everything that could torment the 
 sufferer and grieve the spectator, aided my mind in 
 producing a sketch that made a very coward of the 
 author. Terrified at my own picture, it was no 
 wonder I trembled at the thought of beholding- the 
 reality. 
 
 After sitting about two hours in a solitary state of 
 suspense and anxiety, with no other occupation than 
 that of snuffing the candles and conjuring up in my 
 imagination all sorts of disagreeable fancies, the time 
 had arrived when the illusions I had practised on my 
 own mind would be made apparent. 
 
 " Xo lamb ever suffered more quieter/' said Mrs. 
 Tuck, as she entered the sitting-room. " But he aint 
 in no pain now — no pain at all." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that. Of course, then, nurse, 
 he is better, is he not ?'" I enquired. 
 
222 number one; or, 
 
 " Why, it don't follow in every indiwidual case that 
 a patient is better 'cause he aint no longer in pain. 
 I don't wish to hurt your feelings, young man, — 
 'cause a few hours will show whether my suspicions 
 is werified. The dear man is now awaking up ; so 
 you'd better go in and sit by his bed-side, along with 
 Miss Easto, and I'll take a little rest here on the sofa. 
 If I'm wanted, please tell Miss Easto to knock the 
 wall, as usual." 
 
 "With noiseless steps, I now entered the bed-room 
 of Honest John. On closing the door after my en- 
 trance, my eye accidently discovered Mrs. Tuck, 
 taking from the little corner cupboard in the sitting- 
 room the black bottle from which she had previously 
 refreshed herself. 
 
 Amy stood at the head of the bed on which Honest 
 John reposed. She beckoned me to approach and 
 look on the patient. His spirit was in that transient 
 state which is usually described (t between sleeping 
 and waking." His placid features were like those of 
 a happy child at the moment of its entering the pil- 
 lowy region of slumber. As I stood ruminating in 
 surprise at the sweet tranquillity of one who was in 
 imminent danger, the patient awoke. The moment 
 he saw me at his side his lips greeted me with one of 
 the most expressive smiles of welcome I ever beheld. 
 Seeing the difficulty he had in moving his arm, I 
 anticipated his wish, by embracing his damp and 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 223 
 
 almost lifeless hand, as lie tried to raise it from the 
 bed. 
 
 " I hope, John, you'll soon be better," I said. 
 
 The patient smiled, while his voice, which was 
 almost inaudible, whispered, in a broken sentence, 
 
 " Very — very soon." 
 
 "You feel a little easier than you did, do you 
 not;?" 
 
 "Xev — never better in — in my life," he replied, 
 with an effort that appeared to exhaust him. 
 
 This reply induced me to think that the words and 
 the meaning of an almost breathless sufferer were 
 opposed to each other. 
 
 " 1 sincerely hope you will be better in a little 
 while," I said. 
 
 " Quite — quite well in a — in a little while," he 
 whispered, with a smile, although he was now unable 
 to connect his words. 
 
 " His mind begins to wander," I remarked to Amy 
 in a subdued tone. 
 
 The dear old man either heard the remark, or cor- 
 rectly premised its purport. He not only signified 
 a negative to my proposition by shaking his head, 
 but he accompanied the movement by a gentle smile 
 of forgiveness for the injury I had inflicted. I have 
 never forgotten, — can never forget, the eloquent and 
 touching appeal conveyed by that significant look of 
 my benefactor, at the moment when I made the 
 
224 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 weakness of his body and the feebleness of his words 
 the foundation for a doubt on the strength of his 
 mind. There was something in that look that 
 touched at once the most sensitive part of my nature. 
 In the uncontrollable tears that rolled down my 
 cheek, Honest John himself beheld my silent re- 
 sponse. On turning his eyes towards the chimney* 
 piece, his meaning appeared to be understood by 
 Amy, who handed me a slip of paper. She said the 
 lines thereon were written by her in the morning at 
 the dictation of the patient, who composed them as 
 he lay in bed. They were as follows : 
 
 " "Weep not for John, 
 When he has left 
 This earthly shore ; 
 God's only son 
 Tor sinners wept, 
 But weeps no more. 
 
 " Weep not for John, 
 When he has slept 
 To wake no more ; 
 God's only son 
 
 Will raise his own, 
 When all is o'er." 
 
 After I had read (to myself) the foregoing lines 
 and returned them to Amy, Honest John, with a 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 'ZZD 
 
 voice that seemed to grow weaker every minute, 
 said — 
 
 "Weep — and — pray — for — for those who — who 
 are not — not pre — prepared to — to die. I — I am — 
 ready and hap — happy ! The blessed cause of — of this 
 — vou — you may — learn — learnthere ! — there ! there !" 
 
 Looking towards the Bible that lay on the bed, he 
 repeated the word " there ! " in a tone that was loud, 
 compared with his previous words. Immediately 
 after this effort, his features became deadly pale, 
 while his breathing was more labored. Amy, who 
 could no longer control her feelings, hastily left the 
 room. Her loud, though distant, sobs were almost 
 as painful to hear as the fading sounds from the 
 voice of her dying protector. From the time Amy 
 quitted the apartment, Honest John kept his eyes in 
 the direction of the door. Mrs. Tuck entered the 
 room and, after a momentary glance at the patient, 
 aixain left. She quickly returned with Amy, whom 
 she lead to the head of the bed, telling her to restrain 
 her feelings for a short time. When the patient 
 again beheld his adopted child, a heavenly smile 
 played over his features. The intervals between his 
 respirations now grew longer. A movement of the 
 lips, several times repeated, induced the belief that he 
 had something of importance to communicate. On 
 placing my head near him, I presently heard from his 
 feeble lips the name of " Jesus ! " All for a few 
 
 Q 
 
226 jtumbee one ; ok, 
 
 moments seemed quiet. Then we heard a quivering 
 sound, like the bubbling of water in the throat. 
 After this, the patient slept — -for ever. 
 
 " Come, my dear young mistress," said Mrs. Tuck, 
 as she took Amy by the arm, "it's all over." 
 
 Amy uttered a long deep sigh and fainted. She 
 was immediately carried to her own room. As I 
 withdrew from the death-bed of Honest John, there 
 passed through my mind a fervent prayer that the 
 close of my life might be like that I had witnessed. 
 My spirit again and again said, " Lord let me die the 
 death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." 
 
 A dark cold November morning was in keeping 
 with the surrounding: gloom. When the church 
 clock sounded the final stroke of "six" I was re- 
 minded both of the time present and that which had 
 passed since, on the previous evening, I entered the 
 dwelling of my (now) late benefactor. During the 
 ten long hours that had intervened, I never for one 
 moment thought either of " a little legacy," or of 
 the "birthday party," which had before been the 
 cause of some anxiety. The calm resignation and 
 joyful peace of a christian on the approach of death 
 were subjects of sufficient interest to occupy my mind, 
 till the last breath of that christian had loosed his 
 spirit for a happier sphere. 
 
 But the presentation of a sealed parcel by Mrs. 
 Tuck, and my subsequent departure with the same, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 227 
 
 again told of previous doubts, hopes, and expecta- 
 tions concerning " a little legacy/' There also arose 
 on the mind certain reflections of my own disgrace, 
 and the disappointment I must have occasioned others, 
 through my unexplained absence at a performance, for 
 which I had engaged myself as the leading character. 
 
 " Nothing like sleep for trouble and wexation," 
 said Mrs. Tuck, as she entered from Amy's bed-room. 
 " Soon as my young mistress gets a right down 
 good sleep she'll wake quite another thing — in course 
 she will. She told me to give you this packet, 'cause 
 it's wery particular you should have it, and 'cause she 
 aint well enough to give it to you herself." 
 
 After the speaker had delivered her message, and a 
 small parcel which was sealed in half-a-dozen places, 
 she proceeded to the black bottle in the little corner 
 cupboard. 
 
 " The dear departed one ! " continued Mrs. Tuck, 
 as she finished a glass of the liquid, of the odour of 
 which her person had long been the bearer. " When 
 he wrote on that parcel, which he wanted to conwey 
 with his own hand, he was a thinking he should never 
 see you no more. It was only this blessed morning he 
 did it. And now — the Lord be praised — his spirit 
 is in heaven, where I hopes ours may some day be." 
 
 When I had partaken of a cup of coffee, I took 
 the sealed parcel and my own departure from the 
 house — leaving Mrs. Tuck to recover from the effects 
 
228 NUMBER ONE j OR, 
 
 of a heavily- taxed spirit; by a little repose on the 
 couch of her late master. 
 
 What a powerful magnet is money ! How striking 
 and immediate its influence on the mind ! On the 
 death of my benefactor, which had just taken place, 
 I was both mentally and physically exhausted. The 
 want of a little of that repose, recommended by Mrs. 
 Tuck " for trouble and wexation," was, as I imagined, 
 the primary cause of heaviness, for which I then an- 
 ticipated " sleep " as the only remedy. There was, 
 however, another and more immediate remedy for 
 languor, and, perhaps, for other complaints. On the 
 appearance of a sealed parcel, with " a little legacy/' 
 I was not only wide awake, but felt as if my entire 
 system had been suddenly transformed and refreshed 
 by some magical operation. 
 
 " Gold that can make a clouded prospect fair, 
 May, for a season, cure each mortal care." 
 
 One hour offered ample time for an active youth 
 to walk a distance of about two miles. At seven 
 o'clock, I was not more than two miles from my city 
 home, in which breakfast was served at ei^ht. The 
 paper parcel that contained "a little legacy" was 
 neither bulky nor heavy. Although I had not been 
 in bed during the night, I might have walked the 
 distance named in half the time named. But walking 
 would not have been consistent either with the habit 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 229 
 
 or dignity of a young man of property, as I then 
 supposed myself to be. Seeing an empty hackney- 
 coach pass, I hailed the driver, who appeared disin- 
 clined to accept another fare. He said he was " going 
 home to feed." But the moment the reply of " HI 
 give you ten shillings to drive me to the fity " reached 
 the ear of the drowsy driver, he cracked his whip 
 across the backs of his horses, and turning the 
 heads of the unwilling animals, touched his hat, and, 
 as soon as I had entered the carriage, drove off in the 
 direction indicated by the tempting offer of " treble 
 fare." 
 
 The sealed parcel which had produced such a 
 magical effect on my feelings, bore the following 
 superscription, in the hand of the late donor : — 
 
 u Enclosed is a little legacy for Frank Foster. But 
 the packet is not to be opened till six months after 
 my death. 
 
 " If the receiver ever esteemed the giver while he 
 lived, the greatest respect he can pay to his memory 
 will be to guard, with brotherly love, the orphan 
 Amy, when she has no other guardian bat her 
 Heavenly One. 
 
 "H. J." 
 
 Dear old man ! Shall I not obey your last com- 
 mand ? Yes. Xot a day shall pass without my 
 
230 NUMBEE ONE. 
 
 calling to see the desolate and gentle Amy. But why 
 did John forbid me to open the packet for six months ? 
 He did not, I suppose, wish to show at once the ex- 
 tent of his generosity, and thus overwhelm me with the 
 sudden conviction of my own unworthiness. How 
 very considerate. Yet, I should like just to see the 
 contents of the packet. But, no ; I'll not forfeit my 
 right to do it, by violating the sacred wish of my 
 benefactor. I'll place the parcel in the hands of our 
 head clerk, so that its safety may be insured in the 
 iron safe of the house till six months shall have ex- 
 pired. This day six months ! That will be the 
 twenty-fourth of May. Just the season for a trip up 
 the Rhine ! The amount of the legacy will, of course, 
 regulate my movements. But whatever the sum, it 
 is more than anybody else would have left me. Then 
 why do I think so much about the disappointment I 
 might have occasioned a lot of singing, dancing, and 
 merry-making friends, when my absence from their 
 party was caused by a serious duty elsewhere. Was 
 there one at that soiree that would leave me five 
 hundred pounds — or even five hundred pence ? Not 
 one. 
 
 AVhile reasoning on these and other questions, 
 with a degree of philosophy suited to the occasion, 
 the hackney-coach stopped at the door of my city 
 home, into which I immediately conducted myself 
 and " a little legacy." 
 
CJja|ter xi 
 
 EFFECT OP A LITTLE LEGACY. 
 
My first volume of poems, from the publication of 
 which I anticipated great results, had been before the 
 public — or might have been in that proud position, 
 had the desire of the public on the subject corres- 
 ponded with that of the author — nearly four months. 
 This was the work, the success of which would at 
 once have changed a commercial life to that of a pro- 
 fessional or literary one. I only waited a favorable 
 verdict to leave for ever the busy mart of commerce, 
 for the more exalted, yet secluded walks of literature. 
 
 11 But, then, the thought of hunger on the plain, 
 Destroyed the hope of solitude again." 
 
 It had taken a long time to write the poems ; but 
 it took a much longer time to sell them. Three 
 months after their publication, fifteen copies only had 
 been sold. I was altogether at a loss to understand 
 this seeming leant of taste on the part of a public that 
 had purchased about three thousand copies of my 
 prose composition in a similar space of time. T\ as 
 the poetry inferior to the prose ? The publisher said 
 — " no." Then, why did it fail to sell ? " Because 
 there is no demand for the article," was the reply. 
 And by way of consolation, my comforter, on calling 
 
234 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 my attention to some favorable "reviews," politely 
 informed me that I had every reason to be satisfied, 
 although the sale of the work I had launched on the 
 world would, probably, not pay the price of the paper 
 on which it was printed. 
 
 Instead of finding " every reason to be satisfied," 
 I failed to discover, in my publisher's statement, even 
 the smallest cause for satisfaction. His balm for dis- 
 appointment might have been sufficient to illumine 
 the hope of some less worldly and more exalted poetic 
 genius — then, probably located in the lofty region of 
 a garret, working hard for bread and water and post- 
 humous fame. But the link that had made me 
 familiar with the substantial results of commercial life 
 had some influence in causing me to regard either 
 mental or physical labor from certain £ s. d. points of 
 view. This early acquired number one knowledge, in- 
 duced me to question the policy of bringing to market 
 any further supply of an article which had already 
 shown a balance on the wrong 1 side of the ledger. I 
 did not approve the principle of supplying even a 
 mental commodity at a serious pecuniary loss to the 
 producer — notwithstanding an assurance from my 
 literary agent that I had " every reason to be satis- 
 fied." True, I had an uncontrollable passion for 
 composition, and wanted to become a professional 
 author. But, at the same time, I could not forget 
 that I now received a salary of two hundred pounds 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 235 
 
 a-year for my commercial services. To withdraw 
 from this income and the good things arising there- 
 from, I required something more than the prospect of 
 future retirement in a garret. The indulgence of a 
 poetic taste would have been sweet, but not at the 
 sacrifice of all other sweets. I therefore decided to 
 hold the " bird in hand " a little longer. 
 
 " For trouble and wexation," says a certain autho- 
 rity, you must " diwert the mind by day, and con- 
 wince it of the walue of sleep by night." Nobody 
 would be disposed either to question this doctrine, or 
 to deny the value of the specific, — when, as in my 
 case, the remedy can be applied. I had a counter 
 cause to divert the mind from its depression. The 
 fate of poems, from the vitality and sale of which I 
 ! had anticipated fame and fortune, would have proved 
 1 a heavy blow for the author had there not been some- 
 | thing of a cheering aspect in the distance. The time 
 was now drawing near when the value of " a little 
 legacy " would be revealed to its owner. My hope with 
 regard to the hidden boon was sufficiently buoyant 
 to support a disappointed spirit, when other hopes 
 had vanished. 
 
 The interval between the death of my benefactor 
 and the revelation of the value of " a little legacy " 
 to which I was entitled, gave birth to a variety of 
 curious pictures by friendly artists. If these pictures 
 — in which cash was ever the leading figure — dis- 
 
236 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 played any analogy between my own way and the way 
 of the icorld, the way of the world, in the brief space 
 of a few months, presented my way in anything bnt 
 pleasing colors. 
 
 So soon as my brother warehousemen, private 
 friends, and outside acquaintances heard it whispered 
 that I was entitled to " a little legacy," the mone- 
 tary value of the gift, though yet unknown to the 
 legitimate heir, was determined, published, and com- 
 mented on, agreeably with the particular fancies of 
 those who became suddenly inspired with an ardent 
 desire for the welfare of the legatee. With regard to 
 the amount of the treasure, the " reports " varied 
 from one to ten thousand pounds ! Such were the 
 reports. They were like so many snow balls, whose 
 proportions expand by being propelled in their own 
 element. It remains to be seen whether, like snow 
 balls, they were equally susceptible of sudden disso- 
 lution. In the mean time, the simple fact of being 
 reported rich foreshadowed, in the way of the world, a 
 little of that magnetic influence that would be likely 
 to spring from the actual jwssession of riches. The 
 following are only a few, but they represent a large 
 number of favors which, like April showers, fell on 
 my devoted head from those mortal bodies that 
 anticipated warmth from the sunny rays of " a 
 little legacy" that would presently make its ap- 
 pearance : — 
 
THE WAY OP THE "WOULD. 237 
 
 (Xo. 1.) 
 
 _ " Friday, noon. 
 
 "Dear Foster, J 
 
 "Enclosed you have a couple of stall tickets for 
 to-morrow night. Make use of my services in this 
 way whenever you need them. 
 
 "Allow me to congratulate you on that recent slice 
 of luck that adds to your name the title of ' legatee.' 
 This is the character so many poor devils (myself 
 included) would like to play, as it fills the pocket 
 without exertion. I hope you are as warm in the 
 part as report makes you. 
 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " SEPTIMUS . 
 
 "P.S.— You are, of course, invited to Sinclair's 
 party for Wednesday next ? Miss Inverarity and 
 her cousin, Julia, will be there." 
 
 The writer of this letter was in some way connected 
 
 with His Majesty's Theatre, of which Mr. Laporte 
 
 was at that time lessee. I had often met the young 
 
 gentleman, and he had as often made unsuccessful 
 
 efforts to induce me to join him at " loo." But he 
 
 had not, till now, either sent or offered me cards for 
 
 the opera. 
 
 {No. 2.) 
 
 " April 1st. 
 " My deae Sie, 
 
 " I delayed replying to your very kind explanatory 
 
238 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 letter of 25th November last, not wishing to hurt 
 your feelings immediately after the loss of your 
 friend. 
 
 "We were, of course, much disappointed at the 
 non-performance of your charade at Theadora's birth- 
 day party, but your note on the following day entirely 
 justified your absence on the occasion. 
 
 " Robert and the young ladies desire to be kindly 
 remembered, while conveying to you their kind re- 
 membrances ; and they all unite with me in the hope 
 that you will soon favor us with your agreeable com- 
 pany, or, at least, with an early call after your long 
 
 absence. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " Frank Foster, Esq." " MARIA . 
 
 The foregoing epistle was from the mother of the 
 young lady, to the honor of whom I engaged — and 
 failed — to perform on the night of Honest John's 
 death. A desire " not to hurt my feelings " is the 
 cause assigned for not replying to my " kind letter 1 
 for more than four months. The present reader may 
 assume, if necessary, any other cause for the delay — 
 or rather for the letter after such delay. 
 
 (No. 3.) 
 " Foster, my dear fellow, how d'ye do ? " said Mr. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 239 
 
 Sharp, who, on meeting me on Cornhill, accompanied 
 his oral salute by a hearty shake of the hand. (C You 
 are just the young man I wished to see. I am at 
 present in a position to put you in the way of a good 
 thing. Can't give you the key to it at this moment, 
 hut will do so in the evening. Can you call at my 
 private house at six o'clock ? " 
 
 I replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "Well. Good bye for the present. Remember 
 the time — six o'clock." 
 
 Joining the friend from whom he had for a moment 
 withdrawn, Mr. Sharp again proceeded on his way. 
 
 Mr. Sharp was a gentleman who had lived for a 
 short period (with greater satisfaction to himself 
 than to his employers) in the house of Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch. On leaving the establishment 
 — not of his own accord — he became manager of a 
 certain company in the city of London. Previously 
 to this, he had either regarded himself too big or 
 Frank Foster too little to take any notice of the 
 junior warehouseman, beyond a distant shake of the 
 head. But a change had suddenly taken place in the 
 lofty bearing of Mr. Sharp ; and as he was " in a 
 position to put me in the way of a good thing," a 
 desire on my part to obtain the promised " key " 
 thereof made me faithful at the appointed hour for 
 meeting my mysterious patron. 
 
 As the house clock was striking the hour of six, 
 I entered the drawing-room of my new friend; 
 
2 10 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 " J Tis thus a man of business ever keeps his ap- 
 pointment/' exclaimed Mr. Sharp. 
 
 " Dinner's on the table, sir/' said a well-fitted and 
 bright-bottoned youth of sixteen. 
 
 " And thus good servants ever keep their engage- 
 ments/' continued the host, as he conducted me to 
 the dining-room. 
 
 In the absence of any previous intimation from 
 Mr. Sharp that a " call at his private house" meant 
 an invitation to dinner, I was not exactly prepared — 
 as I thought — for a second dinner, especially as I had 
 just partaken of tea. But I soon discovered that a 
 good deal may be accomplished in the way of eating 
 and drinking, even by one who had just concluded a 
 similar engagement. Fish, fowl, and other delicacies 
 are not often placed before the junior employes of 
 large city establishments. A "wee bit," and then 
 a " wee bit more " from some, if not from the majo- 
 rity of these dishes, convinced me that taste is a 
 conductor that can find room for a few nice little 
 tilings, although appetite may pronounce the vehicle 
 "fall." 
 
 Dinner over, Mrs. Sharp and her two daughters 
 retired, and Mr. Sharp proceeded at once to the 
 business for which I had been more immediately 
 invited. 
 
 " Well, Foster, as I before observed, you are a man 
 of business, and deserve a better position than that 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 241 
 
 which you now occupy. What salary do they give 
 you at the old house ? " 
 
 " Two hundred a-year," I replied. 
 
 " Is that all ? But you would have no objection, 
 I suppose, to have it doubled ? M 
 
 " Not the least objection, Mr. Sharp/' 
 
 " And to obtain at once so desirable an end, you 
 would not, I presume, object to a small outlay? " 
 
 " Pardon my stupidity ; but I confess I don't 
 understand this question quite so well as the last." 
 
 " To make the matter clear — would not an addition 
 to vour present income of two hundred a-year for 
 life be cheap at four hundred pounds ? " 
 
 " Very, provided the duties of — ,J 
 
 " The duties of the office are a mere bagatelle/' 
 said Mr. Sharp, interrupting me. " I see, Foster, 
 you have the cue to my meaning? " 
 
 " Which, as I take it, Mr. Sharp, is simply this, — 
 a permanent appointment of four hundred a-year may 
 be secured for the sum of four hundred pounds ? " 
 
 "Exactly! — that tells the whole story, so far as 
 relates to a simple matter of exchange. Xow for 
 the situation to which it refers. We require a secre- 
 tarv to our company. You understand me? " 
 
 Yes, sir; I understand what you say. But has 
 Mr. Faithful, your present secretary, resigned? " 
 
 " His resignation will not be required till his suc- 
 cessor has been appointed." 
 
 R 
 
£42 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 " Does he not suit the directors ? " I enquired. 
 
 " lie doesn't suit 010/' replied Mr. Sharp. u I'm 
 the manager. The directors of a company are often 
 like figures in a hall — more for ornament than use, 
 having less of the reality than of the semblance of 
 power." 
 
 " Then, the manager himself decides on the most 
 suitable candidate ? " 
 
 " Precisely. The directors have the privilege of 
 confirming the selection." 
 
 " Suppose, Mr. Sharp, the directors should appoint 
 a candidate of their own choice ? n 
 
 " They did so on the formation of the company, 
 twelve months ago. But, as I told you before, the 
 gentleman doesn't suit. VCe need not dwell on that 
 part of the subject. The appointment is now in my 
 hands. You are in every way qualified to fill it. I 
 have nothing more to add. Decision is the only 
 thing wanting. You have mine. The relative must 
 come from you." 
 
 " If I understand you, Mr. Sharp, my acceptance 
 of the office would involve the outlay of four hundred 
 pounds ? " 
 
 " Just so. Or one hundred less than I should 
 expect, and can, in fact, obtain from another. Of 
 course, my friend, the subject of this conversation 
 must be regarded as confidential on either side, al- 
 though in the absence of a third person we may speak 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 243 
 
 without reserve. Now, to tell you the truth, Foster, 
 I have in my pocket (in answer to an advertisement 
 of mine in the Times) a. letter from a gentleman 
 who says he would cheerfully pay five hundred pounds 
 for the appointment in question. But rather than 
 negotiate the matter with a stranger, I will readily 
 make a sacrifice of one hundred pounds in your 
 favor, though aware that you have at present a 
 thousand pounds at your command.^ 
 
 " A thousand pounds ! Me ? Really, Mr. Sharp, 
 Jam not aware of it. It may be so, but if so, your 
 knowledge on the subject is in advance of mine." 
 
 " Well, I am thus informed by a gentleman in 
 the house you now represent. Are you not entitled 
 to a legacy of a thousand pounds ? " 
 
 " I am entitled to a legacy. But of its value I 
 am at present totally ignorant, and must remain so 
 for another month." 
 
 "Oh, oh! That's the state of the case, is it?" 
 said Mr. Sharp, while he appeared for a moment to 
 reflect on what had taken place. " Fools will talk ; 
 and a wise man who is gulled by the report of a fool 
 is the greater fool of the two. "Well, Foster, for the 
 present, we'll let the matter stand over. Meanwhile 
 regard me as your friend. Let us join the ladies in 
 the drawing-room." 
 
 Hereupon, we proceeded to the drawing-room, in 
 which, either by accident or invitation, several friends 
 
244 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 or acquaintances of the host had assembled. After 
 coffee had been served, the time was enlivened by 
 music, recitations, quadrilles, etc., etc. ; and alto- 
 gether, I passed a very pleasant evening in the family 
 circle of Mr. and Mrs. Sharp. 
 
 At the close of this agreeable meeting, my brief 
 connexion with the Sharps ended. The situation for 
 which I had been specially invited was never filled 
 by me. The reason, or one of the reasons, for this 
 will presently appear. Meanwhile, I may observe 
 that the office of secretary, which was promised 
 " for life," soon became permanently vacant, as the 
 company itself suddenly expired five months after I 
 had received the offer of a desirable appointment 
 therein for the small sum of four hundred pounds. 
 
 The foregoing represent only a few of the " good 
 things " which were tendered for my acceptance 
 during the brief space of six months — each offer 
 having originated in the report of " sl little legacy " 
 to which I was entitled. 
 
 Before the close of the chapter, and the revelation 
 of my own legacy, let me in a few sentences record 
 the effect of a legacy elsewhere. 
 
 After the death of Honest John, I discharged, to 
 the best of my ability, the duty to which I had been 
 appointed by the last wish of my benefactor. If, 
 through want of the natural elements of the part, 
 I failed to regard the orphan Amy, with the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOELD. 245 
 
 " brotherly love M to which I had been enjoined, I 
 was, at leasts ever mindful of the responsibilities of 
 office. Though unable to invest rnvself with the 
 affection of a brother, I was not wanting in brotherly 
 attention. My visits to the lady were frequent. 
 Indeed, I was subsequently induced to believe that 
 such visits had been more frequent than agreeable ; 
 that respect to the memory of Honest John, rather 
 than to me, had prevented the gentle Amy from 
 saying more than " I am sorry, Mr. Foster, you take 
 so much trouble on my account." But in discharging 
 the duty imposed by the mandate of Honest John, I 
 did not for a moment imagine that Amy had any 
 " other guardian but her Heavenlv One." Her 
 Heavenly One knew better. AVhen, by accident, I 
 became acquainted with the fact, it occurred to me 
 that the wisest testators would do well to make 
 provision for contingencies that may arise hereafter 
 — for little incidents which may take place after 
 their departure from a world in which, both with 
 regard to matter and mind, the future is all un- 
 certainty. 
 
 For some time after the marriage of Queen A ic- 
 toria, a large number of persons made excursions to 
 "Windsor for the purpose of seeing the Royal Pair, 
 who at that time condescended daily to gratify the 
 curiosity of the public, by making, at least, one 
 circuit of the castle terrace between tiles of the as- 
 
246 number one; or, 
 
 sembled spectators. It was on a fine Sunday in the 
 month of May that I accompanied my warehouse 
 companion, Harry Shorthose, on one of these trips. 
 In the evening, on our return to town, we parted 
 company. Harry had — as he said — to call on a rela- 
 tive. I therefore started for home; but, before 
 reaching the establishment, changed my course, and 
 proceeded on a visit to the gentle Amy. 
 
 Amy and the aunt with whom she resided were 
 both from home. According to their usual custom, 
 when they left home separately, or there was a pro- 
 bability of their returning in the same way, they 
 placed the keys of their apartments with the land- 
 lady of the house — an officer's widow, whose habi- 
 tation was on the ground floor. Being well known 
 to the lady and her family, I had no difficulty in 
 obtaining the key of the apartment in which I 
 desired to rest till the return of the fair tenants. 
 Finding on my entrance to the sitting-room that 
 the sofa on which I wished to recline was occupied 
 by caps, artificial flowers, and other articles of finery, 
 I threw my weaiy limbs on the outside of the bed 
 in the adjoining room, and soon fell into a sound 
 sleep. 
 
 Now, the son of the landlady — a gay young ensign 
 in the English army — happened not only to enjoy 
 the practical jokes of others, but was himself equally 
 fond of thus indulging his own taste whenever an 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 247 
 
 opportunity offered. This young gentleman — though 
 the culprit was unknown at the time — found the 
 present occasion exactly suited for the indulgence of 
 a "lark." Having observed that, on entering the 
 apartments of my absent friends, I incautiously left 
 the key in the door, the young " red jacket M watched 
 an opportunity for secretly and silently locking that 
 door and again placing the key in the position in 
 which it had been left by the owner. The chief 
 object or fun anticipated in this trick by the origi- 
 nator was simply the detention of his prisoner, in 
 the event of a desire to escape. But the joke itself 
 proved a key to scenes and surprises never contem- 
 plated by the author, who looked for his sport to the 
 captive he had just made, rather than to the liberators 
 thereof. 
 
 In a short time Amy returned home' — not alone, 
 nor in the company of her aunt. Finding the key 
 of the door in possession of the landlady, with whom 
 it had been left, she did not for a moment imagine 
 that her aunt or anybody else occupied an apartment 
 that was locked from the outside. Accompanied by 
 her friend, she entered the sitting-room, in blissful 
 ignorance of the presence of a third person who lay 
 at full length on the bed in the adjoining apartment. 
 
 The sleep in which I had indulged was now brought 
 to a close. Either enough had been obtained, or con- 
 sciousness restored to the sleeper by the surrounding 
 
248 number one; or, 
 
 noise. I awoke, and was just about to quit my 
 downy resting place, when a familiar voice — beyond 
 that of Amy — suddenly caught my ear. Surprise 
 and curiosity were at once produced by the sound. 
 Instead of quitting my position, I quietly retained 
 it on the bed — but with eyes and ears open. The 
 former were, at the moment, of little service, as 
 evening twilight had almost disappeared. Yet I 
 dimly saw, but was unseen by, a female figure that 
 entered the bed-room, passed close to the bed on 
 which I lay, placed a bonnet and shawl on the chest 
 of drawers, and hastily returned to the adjoining 
 sitting-room. 
 
 " How did you like our new minister this even- 
 ing ? " said Amy to her outside friend, as she left the 
 bed-room. 
 
 " How did you like him ? " said one whom (to my 
 utter astonishment) I knew to be my companion, 
 Harry Shorthose, who had been with me this very 
 day on an excursion to Windsor. 
 
 " I like him very much," replied Amy. 
 
 " So do I," rejoined Harry. 
 
 " Do you like him as well as our late incumbent ?" 
 said Amy. 
 
 "Do you like him as well? " repeated Harry. 
 
 "1 like him better/' replied Amy. 
 
 " So do I/ J rejoined Harry. 
 
 " What did you think of the curate's reading?" 
 .-aid Amy. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 249 
 
 " What did you think of it ? " repeated Harry. 
 
 u Not much," replied Amy. 
 
 " Xor did 1" rejoined Harry. 
 
 ""What church did you attend this morning?" 
 said Amy. 
 
 "Well, — it was my intention to have gone to 
 Brixton, but — will you go there next Sunday morn- 
 ing, Amy?" 
 
 " Me ? You know I have a great aversion to 
 Sunday travelling." 
 
 " So have I, love." 
 
 The effect of the last word on a mind that was 
 totally unconscious of any existing friendship between 
 the speakers was electrical. " Love ! " I muttered 
 to mvself, as the bed under me almost shook from 
 the effect of the shock I had experienced. Love 
 indeed ! But they are evidently not strangers to 
 the sound. Confirmation on this head was not long 
 delayed. 
 
 "Then, of course, dear, you would not think of 
 travelling on Sundays ? " said Amy. 
 
 " Certainly not, love," replied Harry. " I have a 
 very poor opinion of those who make their excursions 
 on such days." 
 
 " I am, indeed, pleased to hear you say so, Harry. 
 But I fear your friend, Frank Foster, has no such 
 scruples." 
 
 u I am afraid not, Amy," 
 
250 number one; or, 
 
 Impudent imposter ! Barefaced hypocrite ! These 
 and other expressions crossed my mind, as I thought, 
 for a moment, of at once confronting the culprit. 
 But I managed to hold the reins on a spirit that was 
 as difficult to restrain as that of a colt bitten by a 
 forest fly. When the sting was withdrawn from 
 " self" I contrived to bear the less painful part of the 
 dialogue with that calm resignation which will gene- 
 rally submit to a trifling infliction, in order to reach 
 the end of an exciting story. 
 
 "There is certainly one consistent feature in the 
 character of Frank," said Amy. " He never makes 
 the least pretension to religion." 
 
 " Never," replied Harry. " His motto has always 
 been esto quod esse videris, or be what you seem to be. 
 Yes, Amy, he is, at least, consistent." 
 
 "Indeed, I have always found him so. And if 
 people are not always what they should be, I don't like 
 them to appear other than they are, do you, dear ? " 
 
 "Certainly not, love — though Shakespeare says, 
 r Assume a virtue if you have it not.' " 
 
 " Does Shakespeare say so ? It can't be in Frank's 
 edition, for this is his favorite book. He appears to 
 like it better than any other." 
 
 " So do I/' said Harry. . 
 
 " Better than any other book ? " enquired Amy. 
 
 " Of course, love, with the exception of one book," 
 was the reply. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 251 
 
 "Ah me! Poor Frank! " exclaimed Amy with a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " Poor Frank ! with a sigh too. "What's the mean- 
 ing of that, love ? Have yon any cause to bewail his 
 present position ? His friends report him rich, not 
 poor." 
 
 " There are riches which are not of gold, but are 
 yet more precious/' said Amy. 
 
 "Very true, love. There are the riches of the 
 mind, of which my own dear Amy owns a very 
 fair " 
 
 The conclusion of the sentence was rendered in- 
 audible — at least in the bed-room — by certain lovers' 
 salutations which often prove more eloquent than 
 words. 
 
 "Did I not, love," continued Harry, " on one 
 occasion, hear you say that no one but yourself would 
 know the value of Frank's legacy till the parcel con- 
 taining it shall have been opened ? " 
 
 " I don't remember saying so," replied Amy. " If 
 I did say so it was simply the truth." 
 
 " But why, Amy, do you guard the subject with 
 such secrecy? " 
 
 " Because enjoined to do so by my dear departed 
 guardian. You would not have me violate his last 
 wish ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, love." 
 
 " By brotherly attention, since the death of Honest 
 
252 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 John, your companion, Frank Foster, has faithfully 
 discharged the duty to which he was appointed, and 
 I trust he may be satisfied with his reward. With 
 this reward he will, no doubt, become personally 
 acquainted on Saturday next, when the time named 
 for its concealment from the owner will have ex- 
 pired/' 
 
 " On Saturday next ? » said Hany. " That will be 
 the twenty-fourth of May. Six months have already 
 elapsed since we first became acquainted, love ! Of 
 this acquaintance Frank knows less than of his own 
 legacy ! How strange ! " 
 
 " Would it not be still more strange if both secrets 
 should be revealed to him on the same day?" said 
 Amy. 
 
 "It would, indeed, love," replied Harry, as his 
 voice launched out into a roll of laughter, in which 
 he was joined by his fair companion. 
 
 I cannot say which of the three had the greater 
 reason to laugh ; but I laughed as heartily as either, 
 although my laughter was carried on in an under 
 current that was unh a rd amidst the general roar. 
 
 " A very fortunate thing," said Harry, " that 
 Frank has not made his visits here on Sundays." 
 
 " More fortunate, perhaps, for us than for him- 
 self," replied Amy. "I have often reflected, with 
 pain, on the fact that while in his brotherly attentions 
 he has frequently invited me to places of amusement, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 253 
 
 be never asked me to accompany him to a place of 
 worship." 
 
 " Still, Amy, he never asked you to stay away. I 
 hate to be dragged — I mean Frank hates force in any 
 way, especially in the way of religion." 
 
 " If either of you were drowning, would either 
 object to be dragged from a perilous position ? " 
 
 " I should say not, love. Life is too precious to 
 object to the rescue of the body from danger." 
 
 " And is the body more precious than the soul ? " 
 enquired Amy, 
 
 " Well, dear ; let us avoid a discussion on this sub- 
 ject. You know my opinion entirely accords with 
 your own, love." 
 
 At this moment a terrible commotion was created 
 throughout the establishment. It was the result of 
 an accident. On leaving the bed on which I had 
 been lying, I wished, if possible, to make a secret 
 and silent escape from the house. But in groping 
 about in the dark I accidently upset a small table, 
 the numerous glass ornaments on which caused, in 
 their fall, a fearful noise and confusion in a room 
 which was not supposed — at least by Amy and her 
 companion — to be at that time occupied by any 
 human spirit. 
 
 After a loud shriek, which was succeeded by the 
 treble cry of " Thieves ! police ! help ! " Amy 
 made a precipitate retreat, followed by her brave 
 
254 NUMBER one; oe, 
 
 companion, till she reached the hall leading to the 
 street door. Here she was met by the affrighted 
 landlady and her two daughters, who had rushed 
 from their apartments to learn the cause of the alarm. 
 The young ensign, with whom the mischief origi- 
 nated, remained within — no doubt in the full enjoy- 
 ment of the unexpected excitement caused by his 
 handy work. 
 
 On descending the stairs in search of the terrified 
 absentees, I was met and instantly seized by a burly 
 policeman, who in stature, as in manner, was big 
 enough to swallow me. 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, my good man," I said to 
 this powerful guardian of the public peace, whose 
 breath, which was strongly impregnated with a smell 
 of onions, was the only thing in my proximity to his 
 person that made me feel uneasy. 
 
 " Sunday robberies is on the increase of late," said 
 my resolute captor, as he took a firmer hold of the 
 wristband of my coat. " Any more of your friends 
 concerned in this job ? " he enquired. 
 
 " Yes j here are two just coming up," was the reply, 
 as I beheld Amy and her lover, like a couple of scared 
 kittens, cautiously returning to their quarters and 
 placing one loot before the other at extended intervals. 
 
 " Mercy on me ! why it's Mr. Foster ! " exclaimed 
 Amy, who staggered again from the effect of the 
 surprise. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 255 
 
 Her companion was the greater coward of the two. 
 So soon as he caught sight of the individual who had 
 been made captive by the officer, he suddenly with- 
 drew himself from the scene, calling out in his retreat 
 — u Let him go, policeman ! It's a mistake ! — follow 
 me!" 
 
 Although the officer was less alarmed than either, 
 he was, probably, more surprised than either. But 
 the friendly recognition of his prisoner by those who 
 sent him to secure a supposed robber made him at 
 once release the captive, and fly for an explanation 
 to the retreating lover, whose voice again sounded 
 the command of " follow me ! " Neither of these 
 actors again appeared on the scene. 
 
 " I was not aware, till now, of Mr. Foster being a 
 spy," said Amy, as she re-entered and seated herself 
 in her appartment. 
 
 u I am not myself aware of it even now," was my 
 reply. " If in an open house all lovers are as clear 
 and as open as you have been, they must not blame 
 outside and accidental hearers." 
 
 " I am surprised, Mr. Foster, that you should lock 
 yourself in my apartment and call it an ' accident.' 
 Your friend, Mr. Shorthose, " 
 
 "He is no longer my friend; and if you take 
 my advice, he will from this moment cease to be 
 yours" 
 
 u I suppose, sir, I may be allowed to " 
 
256 NUMBER one; OR ; 
 
 The speaker here covered her face with her hand- 
 kerchief and began to cry. 
 
 " Harry Shorthose has evidently been attracted here 
 by your money, Amy. But Honest John in his last 
 command appointed me to watch your interests. I 
 should not prove faithful to my charge, did I fail to 
 warn you of the impending danger which has this 
 evening come to my knowledge/' 
 
 Amy's sobs now grew so loud and so painful to 
 hear, that I resolved to postpone further comment 
 on the subject that provoked them. But at this 
 moment her aunt entered the room. After briefly 
 referring her to her niece for an explanation of the 
 scene, I immediately left the house. Outside stood 
 the " fast " young ensign, smoking a cigar. This 
 young gentleman was a wit as well as a icag. His 
 sharp repartees told with considerable effect on the 
 sentences of any speaker who happened to be no 
 match for the soldier. 
 
 " Allow me to offer you a cigar this evening, Mr. 
 Foster," said the punster as I passed him. 
 
 " I never smoke except when I am in a passion," 
 was my reply. 
 
 "Then, sir," said the "red jacket," with a smile, 
 " you've smoked some mortal ' biguns ' to night, 
 havn't you? " Hereupon we parted company. 
 
 The following morning I prepared to question 
 Harry Shorthose on the subject that had accidently 
 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 257 
 
 come to my knowledge. But he never again entered 
 the house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch. He simply 
 sent to the firm the written resignation of his situa- 
 tion, with an intimation of his intention to retire from 
 the particular kind of business in which he had been 
 engaged. 
 
 This sudden move alarmed me. I began to anti- 
 cipate and fear unwelcome intelligence. In the 
 evening, and on the fonr succeeding evenings, I 
 called to enquire after Amy, but Amy on each occa- 
 sion was from home. At least, the door of her apart- 
 ment was on each occasion locked — whether from 
 within or without I am unable to say. But the ex- 
 citement on this subject was for a short time eclipsed 
 by greater excitement on a subject still nearer home. 
 
 On Saturday, the twenty-fourth day of May, the 
 question which had caused me a little anxiety, and 
 my friends more than a little speculation, was to be 
 solved. The day for the solution had now arrived. 
 " A little legacy ! " What is the value thereof? — that 
 is the question. Taking from an iron safe the parcel 
 that had for six months kept the knowledge of its 
 contents from the legatee, I quietly withdrew to my 
 bed-room for the unobserved enjoyment of a pleasing 
 revelation. 
 
 On opening the parcel that was to make me a rich, 
 or leave me still a poor young man, I discovered that 
 the " little legacy," for which I had been anxiously 
 
258 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 waiting during the past six months, was nothing 
 more nor less than — a little Bible ! 
 
 I will not now — because I cannot — describe the 
 sensation this disclosure produced on the mind of the 
 legatee. On a partial recovery from the effect of sur- 
 prise and disappointment, I read the inscription on the 
 fly-leaf of the sacred volume. It was as follows : — 
 
 "To Frank Foster, — 
 " In this book I leave you what you stand most in 
 need of. Make your heart a storehouse for its trea- 
 sures. They are the only riches that will carry you 
 from earth to meet again in heaven your well-wisher, 
 
 u Honest John." 
 
 When I had carefully examined the paper in which 
 the book had been enclosed, without finding anything 
 else, I returned the volume to its wrapper and placed 
 it in the most remote corner at the bottom of my 
 chest. The box was no sooner locked than a tap 
 "ii the outside of the bed-room door, by the head 
 clerk of the house, was followed by the enquiry of — 
 " lias the legacy equalled your expectation, Frank?" 
 " Greatly exceeded it," I said, in an assumed tone 
 of joy. 
 
 " Will yuu again require the use of the iron safe?" 
 "Not at present," was my reply — after which the 
 clerk retired. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 259 
 
 This early enquiry from one friend gave me a gentle 
 hint of what might be expected from others on the 
 same subject. I therefore resolved not to publish my 
 own disappointment, but rather to give an evasive 
 answer to anyone who might desire information con- 
 cerning my imaginary fortune. The resolution proved 
 to be a judicious one. I was still treated by my 
 friends as a young man of property, and obtained from 
 them the additional credit of knowing how to take 
 care of it. In truth, the absence of the expected for- 
 tune was, to me, the greatest fortune of all — although 
 it took me some time to realize and reconcile myself 
 to the fact. The fascinations of the society by which 
 I was surrounded, together with a long cherished 
 hope for a continental tour, would soon have dissi- 
 pated a monetary legacy, whatever might have 
 been the amount thereof. Certain friends and ac- 
 quaintances would then have blamed me for my folly. 
 On the other hand, these friends and acquaintances 
 ever lauded my prudence, and gave me credit for 
 taking care of a fortune which I never possessed. 
 
 Trouble, it is said, " never comes alone." On 
 Monday the twenty-sixth day of May — two days 
 after my disappointment in the legacy affair — another 
 disagreeable surprise awaited me. I received by post 
 a letter, or rather an envelope, in which was enclosed 
 wedding cards beaming the names of " Mr. and Mrs. 
 Shorthose." The envelope bore the Brighton post- 
 
260 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 mark of the twenty-fourth of May. By this I in- 
 ferred — what subsequently proved to be the case — 
 that the orphan Amy, the gentle Amy, to whom I 
 had been appointed temporary guardian, had found a 
 more permanent protector in the acceptance of a 
 husband. And this event was solemnized the very 
 day on which I discovered that my own "little 
 legacy M resolved itself into a little Bible. 
 
 Well. After a secret courtship of six months' dura- 
 tion, my late companion, Harry Shorthose, wedded 
 either the orphan Amy, or her fortune of twelve 
 hundred pounds, which had been left to her by Honest 
 John. Harry Shorthose was a most intelligent and 
 talented young man. He appeared in every way — 
 but one way — qualified to make a good husband. Yet 
 Harry was one of the last young men in the world I 
 should have recommended Amy to marry. Out of 
 his own mouth I judged him. During our early ac- 
 quaintance, prior to my friend's introduction to Amy, 
 I had heard Harry declare — " If ever I marry, I'll 
 marry for money, though the bride be ugly as sin; 
 and I'll never many without money, though she be 
 as fair as an angel." The remembrance of this de- 
 claration of the bridegroom made me tremble for the 
 future happiness of the bride. That bride, although 
 one of the most gentle and accomplished of her sex, 
 was certainly not one of the fairest. 
 
 The human heart is not always so bad as it may 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 261 
 
 seem. I mistook the character of my companion, in- 
 asmuch as my companion had mistaken himself. He 
 had intended to marry for money. But finding the 
 lady's £old the least anions her riches, he had it 
 settled on herself. She won his love before marriage, 
 and strengthened it after. Than Mr., Mrs., and the 
 Misses Shorthose, there does not, I believe, exist at 
 this moment a happier family in the city of Dublin. 
 Success, however, in any cause — good or bad — is 
 usually rewarded by smiles, if not by general applause, 
 while failure in any cause — good or bad — is followed 
 by the opposite group of frowns and universal con- 
 tempt. But success often brings to light any sterling 
 metal that may be secreted in the mind of its hero, 
 while failure would have left it concealed in the mire. 
 Had a reigning monarch died in early exile, or during 
 his futile attempt to invade the country he now 
 governs, history would have declared, as everybody 
 did declare, the bold aspirant to a tenanted throne to 
 be a " natural fool." But everybody now knows that 
 the monarch in question is no fool, although various 
 opinions may exist concerning the use made of his 
 talents. 
 
Cjjagter m. 
 
 A LARGE HOUSE ON A LITTLE FOUNDA- 
 TION, OR AIMING AT GREAT THINGS 
 BEFORE LITTLE ONES HATE BEEN 
 ACCOMPLISHED. 
 
At the close of my connexion with the house of 
 Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, I became an interested 
 witness in one of those suicidal performances which 
 occasionally take place in the commercial world. 
 
 It is well known — at least in the United Kingdom 
 — that eminent mercantile establishments, like 
 sturdy oaks, are generally of slow growth. In new 
 countries, as, for instance, in America, houses and 
 men sometimes jump into fame in the course of a few 
 years, or even in a few months. In the old country, 
 however, such cases are rare and are altogether excep- 
 tional. People here are not so fast as in the new 
 world. In commercial, professional, or even in poli- 
 tical life, it takes a beginner a long time to secure 
 the suffrages of the public. Once secured, they are 
 not easily enticed away — not even by the offer of 
 superior advantages elsewhere. Most of our extensive 
 and eminent houses originated in a small, a very 
 small way. Like acorns, their rise has been gradual, 
 and their expansion and power have been a work of 
 time. Although in the field of commerce an occa- 
 sional attempt to change the natural course of things 
 has been attended with success, such attempts have 
 more frequently resulted in failure. 
 
266 number one; or, 
 
 The house of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch was a 
 very old, extensive, and eminent one. It was here I 
 commenced my business education. Here, from the 
 alphabet of commercial knowledge to the more ad- 
 vanced stages of "profit and loss," I became versed 
 in all — however little — of which I was at present 
 master. But there are in the world a large number 
 of young persons, of which at this time I happened 
 to be one, who failed to discover when they are " well 
 off," and who uever learn the value of a good situa- 
 tion until it is lost. A combination and sudden move 
 on the part of two leading men of the house, in- 
 duced me — for an imaginary advantage — to withdraw 
 from the great commercial school in which I had been 
 tutored, and from the service of Messrs. Fountain, 
 Pillar, and Branch. 
 
 In this, as in other large wholesale houses of the 
 same class, there were numerous important depart- 
 ments. Though each department, like the branch of 
 a railway, is connected with, and adds to or detracts 
 from, the profits of the main establishment, each has 
 its separate staff of assistants and manager — the 
 manager in this particular trade being generally 
 known as the " buyer." The returns made, the ex- 
 penses incurred, and the stock kept by the respective 
 buyers are presented to the firm, by the chief clerk, 
 in an annual "balance sheet/' in which every depart- 
 ment displays its distinctive features. Thus, not only 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 267 
 
 is the relative value of each branch of business ascer- 
 tained, but likewise the value of the services of each 
 " buyer/' who is regarded as the responsible man in 
 his own sphere, and whose personal remuneration 
 depends, in a great measure, on the revenue arising 
 from the department subject to his management. 
 Thirty years ago — but things have much improved 
 since then — many of the employers in large establish- 
 ments cared little for the employes, beyond the amount 
 in pounds, shillings, and pence, they could get out of 
 them. So long as the employed had the outlines of 
 honesty, and the capability of showing a large return, 
 with remunerating profits, the details of character, 
 "the mind that makes the body rich," or the morals 
 which purify it, however lax, remained unnoticed, or 
 if noticed, remained unreproved by employers. As 
 men entirely of the world, they paid less attention to 
 the morals or intellectual advancement of those by 
 whom their trade was conducted and governed than 
 to the annual result of that government, as shown in 
 the balance on the credit side of the ledger. But if 
 evidence were wanting to prove that a favorable 
 change had taken place, the following simple fact 
 would go far to supply it. In many of those vast 
 wholesale houses in the vicinity of which I passed my 
 youthful days, there are now — instead of large barren 
 or meanlv-furnished sitting-rooms, as heretofore — 
 not only commodious and well-furnished apartments, 
 
268 
 
 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 but extensive libraries, supplied with everything that 
 can tend to improve the mind and enrich the under- 
 standing. For the benefit of those in their employ, 
 a few of our merchant princes go even beyond this 
 by treating their employes to weekly lectures during 
 the winter months. I have myself been recently en- 
 gaged, with other professional gentlemen, to lecture 
 on literary and scientific subjects to audiences of 
 nearly two hundred young warehousemen — within 
 the very walls that once enclosed my services as 
 an assistant. 
 
 My secession from the eminent establishment in 
 which I had passed my early probation, and obtained 
 a good position, originated thus : — Here were two 
 buyers, Reckless and Venture, each having an im- 
 portant department, and each in his own department 
 making a large and profitable return. Reckless and 
 Venture had been in the house of Fountain, Pillar, 
 and Branch for many years. They had been here as 
 junior assistants, and they were here note as important 
 buyers with large salaries. The firm had raised them 
 to what they were, both with regard to position and 
 pay. But Reckless had no sooner secured the " box 
 seat " of the coach than he wished to take the reins. 
 He no sooner became chief of the first department in 
 the house than he wanted to be made shareholder in 
 the house itself. Venture had arranged to play a 
 similar game, in the event of the success of his 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 269 
 
 brother buyer ; or, in the event of failure, to join him 
 in anv ulterior step. They thought the firm would 
 concede their demand, rather than part with two 
 such valuable servants. But they committed the fatal 
 error — not an uncommon one in the way of the world 
 — of overrating their own abilities, and at the same 
 time of underrating the dignity and independence of 
 their employers. While respectfully declining the 
 proposed addition to their title, the firm assured their 
 head buyer that they were ready to recognise the 
 value of his services to the fullest extent, if the recog- 
 nition had not already been made. After a little 
 deliberation, they proposed to Reckless to increase his 
 pay from eight hundred to a thousand a-year — probably 
 a larger salary than was ever before paid or offered to 
 a gentleman in a similar trade. To this offer was 
 appended the remark — " When the time shall come 
 for the admission of a neic partner, such intimation 
 must be made by one of the firm, not by a gentle- 
 man who desires to become so." 
 
 Each, in turn, rejected the offer of the other. 
 Nothing but a partnership would satisfy Reckless. 
 But the firm would not — on his own nomination — 
 be satisfied with such a partner. Finally they agreed, 
 but agreed on one thing only — to part. 
 
 Reckless and Venture had previously determined 
 their line of action. They had resolved either to 
 become shareholders in the eminent establishment 
 
270 number one; or, 
 
 they now represented, or to found and open out a 
 concern of their own on a grand scale, and in direct 
 opposition to " the old house/' Venture had a little 
 money. Reckless had less. But what of that? 
 Merchants and manufacturers in those days only 
 wanted money when their dehtors had none to give 
 them. Good-natured creditors were themselves satis- 
 fied with the presumption that men going into a large 
 way of business were men of capital, till proof was 
 furnished to the contrary. It was only those who 
 started in a small way whose means and character 
 were rigidly inquired into. Reckless and Venture 
 had no occasion to feel uneasy on a point of which 
 they were certain — that of obtaining credit. But as 
 they were unable to muster enough cash even for the 
 preliminary expenses of a large establishment, it was 
 necessary to admit a third person as partner in their 
 grand design. Bounce was a suitable man. Bounce 
 was a London draper in a good way of business. 
 But his ideas were more extensive than his trade. 
 He knew Reckless and Venture, and knowing the 
 vast return they had made for " the old house," he 
 had often intimated his wish to transfer his ability 
 and his means from the retail to the wholesale trade. 
 Here, then, was his opportunity. This he at once 
 embraced by the disposal of his business, and by 
 subscribing his person and property towards the 
 formation of the extensive wholesale establishment 
 
THE WAY OP THE WORLD. ' 271 
 
 which was to open under the firm of " Reckless, 
 Venture, and Bounce." 
 
 Increased pay and the promise of future advantages 
 induced three additional buyers and fifteen junior 
 warehousemen to leave the old house for the new 
 one. In this move, my case may partially illustrate 
 several others. In the house of Fountain, Pillar, and 
 Branch, my position was only one step below that of 
 an old and faithful buyer, who was not to be moved 
 by the tempting offers of the new firm. The removal 
 of this gentleman, either by death or any other 
 cause, would have insured my elevation to the head 
 of my department, and to a salary of four or five 
 hundred a-year. But in my present restless state it 
 might, I thought, prove a tedious affair to wait for 
 such promotion — even in the old and familiar house 
 wherein I had received my commercial education, 
 and with a firm from whom I had received much 
 kindness and consideration. The immediate oppor- 
 tunity for obtaining three hundred a-year, when my 
 salary stood only at two-thirds of that amount, 
 displayed a rise too sudden and tempting to be re- 
 sisted. The offer was readily accepted, and I at once 
 quitted the service of the old house for that of the 
 new one, which was now preparing to astonish the 
 world with its wonders. 
 
 Everything ready, the curtain is about to rise on 
 the first scene in the new house of Reckless, Venture, 
 
272 number one; or, 
 
 and Bounce. The stock to be displayed is, as truly 
 announced in their circular, " immense! n Should it 
 fail to bring custom to the house, it did not fail to 
 satisfy everybody behind the scenes that English, 
 Irish, Scotch, and French manufacturers had evinced 
 an early and earnest desire to made good customers 
 of the new firm. Nobody that beheld their moun- 
 tainous collection of manufactures could for a mo- 
 ment doubt that, if their ability to sell goods equalled 
 their ability to buy them, Reckless, Venture, and 
 Bounce would soon command one of the largest 
 trades in the city of London. 
 
 Every customer of the old house — there were many 
 thousands — received from the seceders a polite invi- 
 tation to inspect the stock of the new establishment 
 on the " opening day." This invitation was not 
 responded to by the " great rush" anticipated by 
 the firm. It neither required a police force to keep 
 the entrance to the house clear for the ingress of 
 anxious customers, nor was an extra number of 
 assistants needed to attend to the wants of those 
 that came. 
 
 Little disappointments at the beginning of a daring 
 enterprise are often succeeded by greater ones as the 
 drama proceeds. It was even so with the house of 
 Reckless, Venture, and Bounce. The launch of their 
 great design on the ocean of commerce created no 
 excitement, except on the part of the originators. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 2 To 
 
 And the want of excitement on the occasion of a 
 great event is not usually regarded as an omen of 
 success. The disappointment occasioned by the ab- 
 sence of the anticipated "rush" on the opening day 
 was the precursor of greater disappointments,, as 
 time more fully disclosed the weakness of the main- 
 spring which was expected to keep the entire ma- 
 chinery of the concern in motion. 
 
 "When, as leading men, Reckless and Venture were 
 doing wonders for the old house, they regarded them- 
 selves as the magnates by which such important re- 
 sults were achieved. Great actors, they thought, could 
 play equally well on any stage. True, they had never 
 enacted first-rate parts elsewhere, and they omitted 
 to consider the importance of anything but their own 
 talents. The age and position of " the old house/ 5 
 the value of its properties, and the well-merited at- 
 tachment of its numerous patrons were altogether 
 overlooked by the two seceding actors. They did not 
 for a moment suppose that they were only the well- 
 nished instruments by which certain commercial 
 operations were performed, and that their employers, 
 Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, were themselves the 
 chief operators. On the contrary, Reckless and 
 Venture thought themselves capable of doing what 
 others had done for them. Ignorant both of the un- 
 limited resources of the house they represented, and 
 the stability of its established connexion, they sup- 
 
 T 
 
274 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 posed that, without the assistance of the former, they 
 could easily secure the latter. 
 
 In a few months the pleasing illusion was dispelled. 
 Amid a vast and expensive stock of goods, commer- 
 cial wisdom was soon found to be the most costly 
 article that had been purchased by the new house of 
 Reckless, Venture, and Bounce. Had the firm known, 
 as they now knew, the extent of their own capability, 
 they would at first have attempted but little, because 
 they would have seen the impossibility of accomplish- 
 ing much. Early knowledge of their own power 
 might have proved the ground- work of success, while 
 judgment to keep within the boundary would have 
 supplied materials for building the structure. They 
 now discovered that the connexion which had been 
 long wedded to the old house evinced no desire to 
 pass their favors to the new establishment, though 
 peculiar advantages were promised for the transfer. 
 
 The vitality of the new house was of short dura- 
 tion, as it suddenly expired at the not very advanced 
 age of eighteen months. The final exit of the firm 
 from the stage of commerce may be recorded in a few 
 words. The majority of our great houses commenced 
 their career at the bottom of a long hill, gradually 
 working their way to the top. Here the workers 
 may, if they please, enjoy their rest. But when, as 
 in the present case, the driver or drivers of a new 
 commercial establishment begin at the wrong end, 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 275 
 
 and start their machine from the top instead of the 
 bottom of the hill, the concern soon reaches its final 
 resting-place. Reckless, Venture and Bounce were 
 only eighteen months in driving their great establish- 
 ment from the top of Prospect Hill down the entire 
 decline of their commercial existence, which termi- 
 nated in a well-known Court in Basinghall Street. 
 Beyond the outside of this Court their old and faithful 
 servant, the present recorder, has no desire to follow 
 them. 
 
 The foregoing is a true account of the life and 
 death of the great commercial house of Reckless, 
 Venture, and Bounce. 
 
 As a short distance only divides commercial from 
 family mistakes, I may briefly refer to the affair in 
 which I was concerned — not legally — in the case of 
 
 GENTILITY AND POOR TARE, VerSUS INDEPENDENCE 
 AND PLENTY. 
 
 Before I close the present chapter, let me turn for 
 a few moments from a commercial to a social picture 
 — from a hastily drawn sketch on the busy mart of 
 commerce to the rough but not less truthful outline of 
 a scene in the domestic drama of life. The incident I 
 am now about to relate originated through mv COn- 
 nexion with the house, the life and death of which 
 have just been recorded. It is not, however, on this 
 account the subject is deemed worthy of note, but 
 
27G NUMBER one; or, 
 
 because the story itself is illustrative not only of what 
 has long been, and still continues to be, a social evil, 
 — or at least a family error — but that it at the same 
 time suggests a remedy for the thing complained of. 
 
 During my connexion with the eminent house of 
 Fountain, Pillar and Branch, I was lodged and 
 boarded in the establishment. But my engagement 
 with the opposition house, and consequent elevation 
 in pay and position (?), made it incumbent on me to 
 provide apartments and partial board on my own ac- 
 count. An advertisement expressive of these wants was 
 within two days responded to by offers so numerous, 
 that a division of the advertiser into two hundred 
 parts would not have allowed a fractional allotment 
 of the individual to each and all of the " desirable 
 homes " to which one mortal body had been invited. 
 The style and composition of a letter often denote 
 something of the character of the writer. Such, at 
 least, was my belief, when out of a large bundle of 
 epistolary addresses I selected that of Mrs. Maria 
 Mental, whose offer of the " advantages of a well- 
 educated circle " was deemed worthy of consideration. 
 An interview with the lady settled the question, 
 agreeably with the favorable opinion created by her 
 Letter. An engagement to " board and lodge M with 
 .Mr. and Mrs. Mental was the result. 
 
 Poor Mental ! But let me begin with the lady, to 
 whose lofty notions of gentility must be ascribed 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 277 
 
 those innumerable little troubles and trials which 
 pressed heavily on the otherwise cheerful and sweetly- 
 tempered members of her own family. Mrs. Mental 
 had a touch of the lady in every accomplishment but 
 one — the income. Her daughters had been trained 
 to a similar style, and with the same cheering pros- 
 pect. They had left school, and were now at home, 
 taking of their mamma lessons in their last and most 
 difficult study — " how to make both ends meet." 
 
 Mr. Mental was one of the most amiable of men, 
 an affectionate husband, and a kind and indulgent 
 parent. He studied every want of his accomplished 
 partner, and appeared to satisfy every want but one. 
 But that happened to be an important one — the want 
 of money. His occasional inability to satisfy this 
 want was probably one of the greatest troubles of a 
 long and anxious career. Yet he derived from his 
 greatest care his greatest happiness. The very main- 
 spring of his existence was so completely wound up 
 in the welfare of his children, and so inseparably 
 linked by the potent chain of parental affection, that 
 his whole life appeared like one long, romantic, but 
 unsubstantial dream ; for, in his kindred spirit, some 
 active agent moved, unseen, the never-failing hand of 
 time, and minutes, hours, and years seemed passed 
 and passing away in one continued and unfruitful 
 course. For a man of education, refined taste, but 
 limited means, to provide even for a young and nu- 
 
278 NUMBER OXE; OR, 
 
 merous family is not always an easy task. But how 
 to provide for, or agreeably dispose of, a grown-up 
 family, the youngest at the age of fourteen, was a 
 question that defied all Mr. Mental's affectionate and 
 anxious efforts to solve. His early life had been in- 
 terwoven with, and illumined by hope. But now it 
 contained every feature but the brightest. The patron 
 who had obtained for him his situation in a govern- 
 ment office was dead. He had lost his interest at 
 head-quarters, and with it, his chance of promotion. 
 Except with the holders of a few overdue bills, he had 
 now no interest with anybody. He was one of those 
 fortunate or unfortunate beings whom Fate with one 
 hand supplied with many of the living branches of 
 fortune, while with the other hand she withheld the 
 fruit. Two sons, five daughters, an accomplished 
 wife, and one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, com- 
 prised Mr. Mental's family and family resources. 
 
 Appearances are often deceptive. It is not always 
 a serene or sunny exterior, either in person or place, 
 that denotes a corresponding calm or warmth within. 
 The gentility of a fair form does not, in itself, prove 
 that the figure has recently been supplied with a sub- 
 stantial meal. Neither is the neatness of a detached 
 cottage a sure sign that its inmates, during an in- 
 clement season, are kept warm by good fires and the 
 like. Mrs. and the Misses Mental were themselves the 
 very pictures, or rather the very realities of neatness 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 279 
 
 and gentility. Their habitation was in keeping with 
 its inmates, or at least with the female portion thereof. 
 Each was typical of the other, while all gave evidence 
 of the pervading spirit that turned everything to the 
 best advantage — whether the renovating power had 
 been applied to a time-worn table cover, curtain, or 
 carpet, or to a reversible apron, a cloak, a cashmere, 
 or cap-ribbon. But a few of the personal incon- 
 veniences that arose from the constant endeavour of a 
 family to keep up " appearances " beyond their means 
 may be gathered by what follows. 
 
 In her well-written and equally well-indited reply 
 to my advertisement, Mrs. Mental had modestly in- 
 timated that " an agreeable addition to her family 
 circle would not be objected to." This was one of 
 the reasons assigned for an offer to open the door of 
 her private establishment to a stranger. But a brief 
 residence in my new abode led to the discovery that a 
 personal extension of the family circle was not the 
 only " agreeable addition" to the domestic hearth. It 
 was the sum of thirty shillings, payable weekly, for 
 partial board and lodging, that made the new comer 
 " an agreeable addition." The only pain created by 
 its payment was the knowledge of how much the 
 small stipend was needed by the head of a large 
 family of recipients. Poor Mental ! He never received 
 a quarter's salary that it was not immediately dis- 
 pensed in small portions to clamorous little tradesmen 
 
:2^<> dumber one; or, 
 
 to whom larger sums were due. Yet the debtor was 
 honest, and I pitied him from my heart. With one 
 hundred and fifty pounds a-year he could not, of 
 course, satisfy claims to the amount of two hundred 
 a-year. But why with a fixed salary, was his ex- 
 penditure in excess of his income? A word or two 
 with his accomplished wife may furnish the question 
 with an answer. 
 
 Mrs. Mental was the only surviving child of a de- 
 ceased officer, whose good name happened to be her 
 sole inheritance — save and except a disciplined taste 
 for gentility, the standard of which she faithfully 
 carried to the last. In the true spirit of many a 
 poor yet deserving soldier, the soldier's daughter 
 was ever dreaming of promotion that never came. 
 When the sprightly Charles Mental was first ap- 
 pointed to a government situation his young bride 
 believed that, like an ensign who in time becomes a 
 general, her devoted Charles would gradually rise 
 from the post of junior clerk to that of prime minis- 
 ter. Even when he had lost his interest at " head- 
 quarters/' and, with it, all chance of promotion, his 
 fair partner, both in habit and costume, still main- 
 tained her position above the rank and file of society. 
 She could not or uoirfd not accommodate herself to 
 circumstances. When a batch of young officers (male 
 and female) had made their appearance, the style of 
 the parent-general was hept up as before. Though 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 281 
 
 the juvenile staff had often to muster on " short 
 commoDs/' their dear mamma had always the newest 
 style of costume both for parade and review. She 
 could bear the loss of a good dinner rather than lose 
 the outward forms of fashion. This was the severe 
 and artificial school of discipline in which the branches 
 were trained. 
 
 But Clara, the youngest daughter, had a spirit of 
 her own, with less false pride and more real indepen- 
 dence than any other member of the family. She 
 had no wish to continue at home, dependent on those 
 whose means were so circumscribed. But she dreaded 
 still more the worse than menial situation of a poor 
 governess. She had no desire to follow in the path 
 of two senior sisters, who passed half their time in 
 situations they could no longer keep, and the other 
 half with parents who could no longer keep them. 
 She sighed for a more independent position, even 
 though it should be one of less refinement and £en- 
 tility. As her spirit continued to sigh for indepen- 
 dence, I on one occasion put the question — " AVould 
 a respectable business situation be acceptable ? " The 
 enquiry struck terror to every one of the family, 
 except that one whom it chiefly concerned. The bare 
 idea of anything connected with the " shop " for a 
 member of the Mental family — especially a female 
 member — was in itself something dreadful. It was 
 like an electric shock on every nerve of gentility. 
 
282 NUMBER one; oh, 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Mental, " a situation 
 in a shop ? I hope I may never behold a child of 
 mine in so degrading a position. I shudder at the 
 contemplation of such a sight. What ! — to see one's 
 own daughter behind the counter ? Pray, Mr. Foster, 
 don't inflame Clara's romantic spirit with anything 
 of that sort." 
 
 But Clara's independent spirit was already on fire. 
 Like that of a lucifer match the ignitable matter had 
 only waited a sharp twitch to force it into a blaze. 
 The touch had been given. A flame was kindled 
 which would either continue through life or (if 
 quenched) leave the frame a spiritless mass. Again 
 and again, this young and vigorous heart solicited 
 me to procure for her a situation in a house of 
 business. Again and again the mother made the 
 daughter's solicitude of no avail. Time passed. The 
 steadiness and brilliancy of the child's resolve tended 
 to moderate the parent's opposition. A situation in 
 a first-class house of business — not far from Kegent 
 Street — was at length submitted for approval. After 
 a sharp contest in her own mind between gentility 
 and expediency, Mrs. Mental reluctantly consented 
 to the disgrace of her family, by allowing her daugh- 
 ter to accept what her daughter had already resolved 
 to embrace — a position in a " shop," or, as an indig- 
 nant mamma ironically observed, " to play in public 
 the distinguished part of female counter-jumper." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 2 S3 
 
 Poor Clara ! Great as was the parent's antipathy 
 to business, that of the other female members of the 
 family was greater. During the first few months of 
 her business probation, she was treated by her sisters 
 in a manner the very opposite to that of sisterly 
 kindness and affection. It was probably the presence 
 of the lodger, or his thirty shillings a-iceek, that 
 prevented these well-trained young ladies from pro- 
 secuting with still greater rigour that independent 
 spirit which they declared had " disgraced them by 
 becoming a shop girl." 
 
 This exhibition of empty pride on the one hand 
 and proud independence on the other proved of 
 benefit even to the lodger, who was thus made 
 familiar with a few of the shams and realities of 
 life. For some time previously, my ideas of refine- 
 ment and gentility had somewhat outgrown the 
 strength of my position. A taste for literature and 
 the fine arts had not only made more glaring the 
 coarse habits of those commercial brothers who were 
 exclusively devoted to money-making, but had almost 
 caused me to look with contempt on my own kin, 
 and to forget the fount from whence my importance 
 sprung. But a residence with the Mental family, 
 together with an introduction to a large circle of 
 their acquaintances who were as accomplished, as 
 poor, and as proud as themselves, soon disclosed the 
 secrets of the artificial " make up " of that genteel 
 
2^1 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 society which I subsequently discovered comprised 
 rather an extensive class in the world. Here I beheld 
 accomplished young ladies pass more than half their 
 time in tuning their sweet voices and strumming 
 away on a hired piano; young ladies who carried 
 their wardrobes on their backs, yet would rather 
 forego a Sunday dinner than omit — even at the cost 
 of their last shilling — to trim those wardrobes with 
 some trifling emblem of the newest fashion. When 
 I saw these things and heard the pretty damsels 
 declare that they were in every way superior to 
 " shop girls ; ' who were well fed, well paid, well 
 clothed, and well conducted, I began to contrast 
 external show with internal comforts, and to exclaim 
 — " give me sensible shop girl sisters before highly- 
 glazed gingerbread dolls. " 
 
 The house of never gave an immediate salary 
 
 to a young lady totally unacquainted with business. 
 Being, however, favorably impressed with the manner 
 and general appearance of the new candidate for 
 commercial honors, the firm promised to reward Clara 
 Mental at the earliest period at which her services 
 might be found of value. She had not long to wait 
 for the fulfilment of the promise. I cannot state 
 the exact period at which her salary began, having 
 omitted to enter it in my diary. It was not, I 
 believe, more than six months after the young lady 
 had entered on the duties of business. I have it 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 285 
 
 recorded that at the expiration of two years from the 
 time of her novitiate she was in the receipt of a salary 
 of sixty pounds a-year, and that she expressed herself 
 as being " very comfortable, equally independent, and 
 perfectly happy ! " Not bad, either in position or 
 pay, for a young lady at the age of nineteen ! 
 
 Success in anything, or in any sphei^ of life, is the 
 prime minister of conciliation. Had Clara, in her ' 
 noble struggle for independence, failed in the attempt 
 — failed either through a natural inaptitude for busi- 
 ness or from any other unblameable cause — her effort 
 would have been pronounced as silly as herself, if 
 not as mad as the lodger who gave the cue to her 
 folly and opened a course for its indulgence. But as 
 Clara did not fail, indignant foes were soon changed 
 to sympathizing friends. The romantic spirit of that 
 child, who in the " distinguished character of female 
 counter-jumper " had threatened the fall of social 
 gentility, was now regarded as a family star of the 
 first magnitude. Parents no longer despised the 
 position of the daughter by whom — contrary to ex- 
 pectation — they had not been disgraced. Even senior 
 sisters condescended to acknowledge the talent, if 
 not to commend the taste, of the enterprising " shop 
 gild ,J whom they at first disowned and persecuted. 
 
 Without dwelling on all the subsequent features in 
 this truthful story, the sequel may be briefly given. 
 Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mental lived to see the final 
 
286 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 position and reward of the successful " shop girl." 
 Clara had accomplishments superior to the majority of 
 young ladies engaged in business. But her accomplish- 
 ments did not prove a barrier either to commercial or 
 social advancement. Because this young lady — 
 behind the counter — not only played her part well in 
 business, but could, if required, play well and sing 
 well out of business, nobody took a dislike to her on 
 that account. The close of her commercial career 
 would justify the opposite conclusion. At the age of 
 twenty-three — after five years' self-support and inde- 
 pendence — Clara Mental became the wife of one of 
 the first merchants in the city of London. 
 
 Wealth is power. Now, then, the rich merchant's 
 wife had an opportunity for avenging past insults — 
 for teaching contemptuous sisters and unfeeling friends 
 that tokens of unkindness can be returned to the 
 dealers in their own coin. On attaining an exalted 
 and powerful position, a despotic spirit is wont to 
 reflect the frown of every former foe. But who can 
 change a noble heart into a despotic and revengeful 
 one ? Not even its owner. Like the root of a tree, 
 its natural character is retained to the last. The 
 once despised but forgiving " shop girl" who received 
 the scorns and the rebukes of others without retalia- 
 tion, did not now from her lofty station resent insult 
 with injury. The lady of substantial means did not 
 from her temple of fortune embitter the position of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 287 
 
 would-be ladies without means, when she had an op- 
 portunity of returning good for evil. No. But let 
 one patent fact supply the moral and close the story. 
 At this moment not only are two unmarried sisters 
 
 supported by the good Mrs. , late Clara Mental 
 
 — but also two of the children of another sister, whose 
 taste for refinement and gentility induced her to 
 accept for a husband, from a respectable profession, a 
 gentleman without practice. 
 
 The story is ended. I have no desire to follow the 
 modern custom of pinning to a little drama, when 
 the drama is over, a long and prosy " tag/' But the 
 preceding sketch of an incident in real life is sugges- 
 tive of one or two queries. These are respectfully 
 submitted — unanswered — for the consideration of the 
 large number of mothers and daughters of gentility 
 whom such queries may concern. I will not go into 
 the important question — whether men of from ten to 
 fifteen stone in weight are, or are not, " out of place " 
 behind the counter of a lace or fancy establishment ; 
 or whether in that effeminate assumption of manner 
 and address necessary 'to the successful display of 
 ladies' collars, capes, and night caps, the actors do 
 not sacrifice all that is manly — save and except the 
 figures of men ? This question chiefly concerns them- 
 selves, yet not themselves alone ; for in the total 
 absence of their sex from such places, such places 
 would necessarily have to be filled by the opposite sex. 
 
288 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 But as this legitimate field for female action is not 
 in the sole or undisputed possession of male officers, 
 let me put the questions of which I have given notice. 
 I ask yourselves, the youthful thousands — who shall 
 say how many ? — of ill-fed, thinly-clad, yet highly- 
 accomplished spinsters at present located in the 
 United Kingdom, whether the love of gentility is 
 strong enough, if not to keep you, at least to induce 
 you to keep as you are ? Or whether, like the heroine 
 just named, you are ready to doff your notions of false 
 pride and enter on a noble struggle for self-support 
 and independence ? In a great commercial country, 
 there is plenty of room even for novices under the age 
 of twenty, whilst there is room enough, and to spare, 
 for efficient hands at almost any age. Depend on it, 
 young ladies, your accomplishments would not prove 
 a barrier to commercial success, if ability and industry 
 only enable you to pursue the course for its attain- 
 ment. You must not all expect, nor would all desire, 
 to meet with rich husbands on your journey. Some 
 of you, like the heroine's senior sister, would, no 
 doubt, rather marry a teacher of music, and after- 
 wards meet with a kind relative to teach the children 
 everything else. I am convinced that the duties as 
 well as the hardships of a junior governess, depen- 
 dent on her own exertions for support, are as great, if 
 not greater, than those of any member of any class in 
 the great family of mankind. On the other hand, I 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 289 
 
 am satisfied, from personal knowledge, that a junior 
 assistant in a respectable commercial establishment 
 has greater comfort, greater liberty, and less real 
 cause for anxiety and care than almost any other 
 working member of any class in the kingdom — not 
 excepting the employers whom she may serve. 
 
 With no object beyond a desire for your own 
 welfare, I entreat you, my numerous young sisters of 
 refinement and accomplished country cousins, who, 
 like pretty captives in a cage, are now singing and 
 hopping about for a bare and anything but a natural 
 existence, to weigh well the questions herein sub- 
 mitted for your consideration. 
 
 Turning for a moment from a social to a political 
 subject, let me briefly refer to 
 
 A POLITICAL SQUIB. 
 
 Just at this period— 10th of April, 1St8— other 
 than either social or commercial affairs broke in on 
 the peace of the metropolis. One of those fiery mon- 
 sters, which once in an age rise up to disturb the 
 quiet of the political horizon, was going either to ex- 
 plode the British constitution -or be itself exploded. 
 It was now when a huge rocket, that many dirty 
 hands had for many years been rilling with sulphurous 
 matter, was about to be ignited. " Chartism M was 
 the serpent's name. Nothing short of an entire revo- 
 lution was apprehended. A change from established 
 
 u 
 
290 noiber one; or, 
 
 principles to no principle at all was to be effected in 
 a day. 
 
 In order to arrest this dreaded innovation on law 
 and order, commissions were granted to a larger 
 number of " staff officers " than had ever before paraded 
 the streets of London. To put down internal rebel- 
 lion, special constables, in their magical and multi- 
 tudinous creation, typified the recent sudden rise of 
 the noble army of volunteers now ready to guard their 
 Queen and country from external foes. Everything 
 and everybody had been prepared for a fight. Corrupt 
 spirits in power were not disposed to yield quietly to 
 still more corrupt spirits that craved for power. 
 Number One, or the chief office in the way of the 
 world — the Bank — was studded with soldiers and 
 sandbags, all ready for a desperate resistance to any 
 illegal claim on the golden treasures within. 
 
 But after all this excitement — after many months 
 of preparation on the part of General OTrigger and 
 his deluded troop for a grand demonstration against 
 the invincible arm of sovereign rights — the whole 
 affair proved a gigantic sham. In design, as in 
 execution, it had nothing in it but a little of that 
 spirit of madness which subsequently proved fatal to 
 the unfortunate leader. Mad-brained fanatics, either 
 in politics, religion, or anything else, became formid- 
 able only by the cries of their opponents. If the 
 noisy advocate of any bad cause were allowed to 
 
THE WAY OF THE "WORLD. 291 
 
 expend his breath unnoticed, his cause would soon 
 die a natural death. After the failure of the " grand 
 demonstration/' special constables and others were 
 allowed to resume their ormer occupations in peace 
 and quiet. 
 
 Almost contemporaneously with the foregoing 
 subject there appeared 
 
 A KINGDOM WITH TWO KINGS. 
 
 Having referred to what, political revolutionists 
 ailed to accomplish by violent means, let me by way 
 of contrast briefly allude to a wonderful social change 
 that is effected without even the semblance of vio- 
 ence. The present period will some day be regarded 
 as a very remarkable one. In an age of wonders, 
 England has gr-iven birth to an event unlike anv that 
 has ever been, or will probably ever again be, recorded 
 in her history. By this event the leading features of 
 Number One have become prominent, not only in 
 their individual, but also in their national character. 
 The drama itself will prove a great and permanent 
 one — one of the utmost public importance — although 
 the original actors therein are merely important as 
 showing the sort of stuff of which a large portion of 
 the public is composed. 
 
 I now speak of nothing more nor less than a social 
 revolution. But like all revolutions that benefit man- 
 kind, it is accomplished without bloodshed. Unlike 
 
292 dumber one; oh, 
 
 two royal terriers of French and Austrian breed, who 
 after a desperate fight for territory, quietly sit down 
 to arrange their differences and divide the spoil, 
 England etfeets a mighty change, not only without 
 drawing the sword, but simply by drawing from the 
 pockets of the people a few millions sterling for the 
 permanent good of society and the commercial inte- 
 rests of the world at large. The country is carefully 
 mapped out, and certain sections or associated bodies 
 of the people, commonly called " companies," soon 
 constitute a little community in themselves. After 
 a few harmless though not inexpensive parliamentary 
 battles, they obtain at once and for ever the right to 
 extensive tracts of land running in all directions 
 through the most wealthy nation in the world. 
 Hence arises an important community of landed pro- 
 prietors who daily increase both in number and 
 wealth, and whose possessions are already extending 
 from north to south and from east to west. 
 
 In all times as in all countries, whether savage or 
 civilized every tribe has had its chief and every na- 
 tion its ruler. Be the people ever so rude or ever so 
 refined, be their form of government ever so crude or 
 ever so polished, a head of some sort or other has 
 ever been as necessary to each class or community as 
 is the human head to the human body. Thousands 
 and tens of thousands of Her Majesty's loyal subjects 
 had now become railway-share proprietors. "Without 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 293 
 
 any abatement in their attachment to the Queen or 
 their loyalty to the throne, they openly acknowledged 
 another monarch in the person of a railway king, 
 who has suddenly sprung up from among their own 
 body, emerging, as if by magic, from an obscure 
 position and poor estate to take his seat like a real 
 hero, on the pinnacle of power, wealth, and fame. 
 Thus England for the first time in her history has 
 two kings at one time, or rather, two ruling monarchs 
 — one being: our gracious sovereign ladv, the Queen. 
 The railway king during his brief reign is the most 
 popular potentate that ever swayed a golden sceptre. 
 His popularity is not founded on the usual vulgar 
 and lasting love that springs from the heart of an 
 entire nation. Nothing of the sort. His majesty's 
 twenty or thirty thousand subjects are all cast in the 
 same mould with himself, and he goes direct to their 
 sympathies and their affections with the tempting 
 bait of " railway scrip n at a premium, which he sup- 
 plies at par to as many of his votaries as time and 
 opportunity permit. Never before had majesty so 
 many courtiers, and never before were courtiers so 
 solicitous for the welfare of the king's most dutiful 
 subjects, of which they are themselves the most de- 
 voted. The golden rule of their royal master is to 
 them a source of boundless joy. But, alas, for the 
 brief existence even of kingly power, when that power 
 wants the vital spirit of religious truth in its appli- 
 
294 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 cation ! Little more need be said by way of a sequel 
 to the story. God, in carrying out Lis own mighty 
 designs, in the various stages of the world, raises 
 men to power and again reduces them to nothingness, 
 as daily lessons for all who in struor-Min^ for the 
 things of this world forget that He who gave all can 
 also take all away. Does anyone suppose that this 
 railway king is set up and taken down simply as a 
 moral for his own heart ? Is he more selfish than his 
 accomplices? Xot a whit. His majesty is one of 
 the worst or best abused men in the kingdom. Yet 
 the majority of his once loyal subjects would have 
 behaved no better than their royal master had they 
 been placed in the golden chamber of temptation 
 from which their master fell. Let each unscrupulous 
 speculator take a special note of that fall to his own 
 home, and let him place it — as a lover places an 
 enigma — under his pillow to sleep on it. 
 
CJajter »ii 
 
 A FEW YEARS ON THE ROAD. 
 
Ox the commercial demise of the firm of Reckless, 
 Venture, and Bounce, three of the late warehousemen 
 of that defunct establishment received an intimation 
 from their former employers that they might, if they 
 chose, return to the old house. I happened to be one 
 of the favored three. But my mind was now in that 
 unsettled state that made any occupation seem pre- 
 ferable to that in hand. With a growing dislike to 
 a warehouseman's life, yet with a keen sense of the 
 income arising therefrom, I was just about to accept 
 the offer of Fountain, Pillar, and Branch, when a 
 more desirable one presented itself from another 
 quarter. Although the new post tendered for my 
 acceptance was a commercial one, and directly con- 
 nected with that branch of commerce in which I had 
 been engaged, the duties were not identical. Any 
 change that would not involve a sacrifice, either of 
 position or pay, would at this moment have proved 
 grateful to the half-literary, half-scientific, and anti- 
 commercial taste of Frank Foster. 
 
 I had often considered that the most desirable and 
 independent post connected with commerce or com- 
 mercial pursuits was that of provincial representative 
 of any first-class establishment. An opportunity 
 
298 number one; or, 
 
 now occurred for personally and practically testing 
 my opinion. In the representation of the extensive 
 and well-known house of Substance and Co., a 
 vacancy had just taken place, and I was engaged to 
 fill it. With a salary of three hundred a-year, an 
 allowance of one guinea a-day for expenses, and an 
 excellent "turn out" in the way of ahorse and chaise, 
 I was about to enter on a new phase in my commer- 
 cial career. Just the thing I had been longing for — 
 an opportunity for beholding the beauties of my 
 native land. As this could not be obtained either 
 apart from business or at my own expense, I was 
 delighted with the chance of making business a 
 profitable step to pleasure of the highest order — the 
 expansion of the mind through a more comprehensive 
 view of Divine Majesty in the wonderful works of 
 creation. It is all very well to read about "the 
 beauties of nature," but to enjoy them they must be 
 seen. The reading is like an elaborate grace to a 
 substantial meal, but seeing is the meal itself. Those 
 wealthy tradesmen who have never journeyed fifty 
 miles beyond their own counting-houses, know but 
 little of the world, beyond that which grows and 
 multiplies under "hot-beds" bearing the initials of 
 t, s. d. If they would be as rich in knowledge as in 
 that by which knowledge can be obtained they must 
 — TRAVEL. 
 
 I was quite aware, before starting on my first 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 299 
 
 journey, that however charming the beauties of 
 nature might appear to a young commercial travel- 
 ler, they would only form a part, though a pleasing 
 part, of a picture in which bales and boxes of mer- 
 chandise would have to be fairly represented in the 
 back ground. I knew that seeing the country on my 
 part would not alone satisfy employers who expected, 
 through each morning's post, to have their visions 
 gratified by a " good sheet " of orders from the par- 
 ticular part of the country in which I might have 
 happened to pass the preceding day. I was aware 
 of all this before I started. But there was a good 
 deal more than this in the life of a traveller of 
 which I was not aware. A young man sees only the 
 bright side of a profession or trade of which he is 
 not himself a member. 
 
 I soon discovered that the fortune of a commercial 
 traveller is decided by the result of his first three or 
 four journeys. During this period it is all collar- 
 work for the gentleman. Should he flinch at his 
 task he will make but an indifferent traveller. 
 Whether he represent an old house, or a young one, 
 whether the ground has been covered before or not, 
 he has in either case to form a connexion and lay 
 the foundation of a trade for himself. Although an 
 old house may favor him with the advantage of a 
 connexion, it cannot insure the friendly disposition 
 of that connexion towards him as an individual. 
 
300 number one; cm, 
 
 This rests with himself. The very parties with whom 
 his predecessor might have done a large trade, he 
 may possibly find the most difficult to secure. An 
 intimate acquaintance with a former representative 
 will more frequently retard than advance the interest 
 of a successor — especially with those who entertain 
 less regard for a house than the person representing 
 it, and who fail to recognise the same merit in the 
 new as in their old associate. As a new man, there- 
 fore — whether for an old house or a young one — he 
 has both to form his connexion and make his trade. 
 When is this to be accomplished, if not at the outset ? 
 Xever. It is now he has to ascend that ladder of 
 fortune on which, in these days of competition and 
 commercial enterprise, it requires much labor to attain 
 anything like an eminent position. It is now he has 
 to look for substantial subjects with which he may 
 safely build a trade, and also devote his best energies 
 to its construction. It is now that a careful or care- 
 less selection of his materials determine the future 
 security or insecurity of the structure. Should he, 
 select good men for the foundation of his work, the] 
 profit of his exertions will be sufficient to keep the 
 building in repair, and leave a balance in hand for| 
 any future dilapidations. If, on the contrary, he 
 should build his hopes on doubtful men, the expense! 
 of now and then removing rotten portions of the 
 building, and propping up others, will not only dis- \ 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 301 
 
 solve all profit arising from the investment of labor 
 and capital, but will soon destroy building, capital, 
 profit and all. It being more difficult to accomplish 
 his object with the first than with the second class 
 of these subjects, and still greater difficulty is, en- 
 tirely to avoid those who cause the least trouble to 
 do icith, but the greater profit to do without. 
 
 To each and all of these tasks must a young 
 traveller, during the first term of his studies, stead- 
 fastly apply himself, otherwise he will not prove a 
 successful advocate, whether his advocacy be for him- 
 self or others. If he fail to apply his abilities towards 
 forming a connexion in the spring of his career, he 
 will lack the energy, if not the ability, to do so in 
 the fall. 
 
 In the counting-house, a youth may take his seat 
 as an alderman does his gown — for life. He has 
 neither to push a dull trade, nor drive a dull horse, 
 but merely his pen. His business is not to effect 
 sales, but simply to enter them. All he has to do is, 
 to chronicle what others do for him. Thus he ^oes 
 
 o 
 
 on from day to day and from year to year, raising 
 himself step by step, as old age or death may remove 
 his senior in office. 
 
 "With a commercial traveller the case is very dif- 
 ferent. He has not the advantages in this respect of 
 either clerk or warehouseman. True, if successful, 
 he is as well paid as either, and has perhaps a better 
 
302 number one; or, 
 
 prospect than either of ultimately finding himself a 
 member of the firm whom he has successfully repre- 
 sented. But he has no senior in his department, in 
 whose removal he can date a prospective rise ; nor 
 has he any junior to transact his business in his ab- 
 sence. He has to represent and act the parts of 
 principal, clerk, and warehouseman. He is not only 
 expected to sell goods, but — what is of still greater 
 importance — he is expected to get the money for 
 them when they are sold. In short, everything that 
 has to be done must be done by himself, and his own 
 ability and energy are his only helpmates. 
 
 But in addition to the physical capability for dis- 
 charging the duties of a commercial life, it requires 
 more than talent or even genius to make a man a 
 good traveller. He must be the owner of a mild 
 and even temper. Although nature should have en- 
 dowed him with the versatile ability of a prime 
 minister, still, if she omitted to accompany the gift 
 with the sweet breath of moderation for its applica- 
 tion, it will prove of little service to the possessor. 
 Industry, agreeable manners, and a good temper are 
 the three great attributes of commercial success. 
 The inheritor of these passports to commerce will 
 often succeed better on his journey than one who 
 ranks higher as regards his intellectual capacity, 
 but who wants the leading features of success for 
 his guide. 
 
THE WAY OF THL WOELD. 303 
 
 Without vainly ascribing' to myself the possession 
 of either of the necessary requisites for the commer- 
 cial side of the character, let me go direct to a 
 remarkable (at present exceptional) scene of social 
 extravagance in the life of a traveller — a scene which, 
 at the close of my first week on the road, filled my 
 mind with more surprise, and my body with greater 
 discomfort than was created by any other event 
 during the remainder of my commercial career. 
 
 But let me observe that scenes like that I am about 
 to describe are now numbered with things of the past. 
 ~Sot only have the commercial body and their tastes 
 kept pace with the social improvements of the age, 
 but so also have the landlords of commercial houses. 
 As a body, no class of gentlemen — no w uncommercial 
 travellers " are better, or, perhaps, so well and, at the 
 same time, so inexpensively fed as commercial men ; 
 and in return for this attention to their comforts, 
 landlords must in some way be remunerated — 
 although no respectable landlord of the present day 
 would wish to see his visitors intoxicated, thereby 
 giving to his house a name that would do it more 
 harm than good. 
 
 My maiden journey was through the charming 
 county of Kent. Starting from London on Monday 
 morning, I drove through the towns of Gravesend, 
 Rochester, Maidstone, &c. — not altogether without 
 orders — on my way to Margate, which I was anxious 
 
304 NUMBER one; OR, 
 
 to reach, and did reach, on Saturday night. Here 
 I expected to derive some enjoyment both from 
 the invigorating influence of a sea-breeze, and 
 from the peaceful rest of a quiet Sabbath — after the 
 anything but light or inactive labors of the week. 
 To determine the difference between the enjoyment 
 anticipated and the enjoyment realized, the reader may 
 extract evidence for an impartial judgment from a 
 brief and faithful account of 
 
 MY first SUNDAY IN A " COMMERCIAL ROOM." 
 
 At eight o'clock, I breakfasted alone. At nine, 
 another gentleman was following suit. At ten, four 
 only had exchanged their beds for their morning 
 meal. At half-past ten, the number was increased by 
 another unit, while the serviceable allotments on the 
 breakfast table denoted that some eight or nine absen- 
 tees had still to enter an appearance. At a quarter 
 to eleven, I left for church, not without a feeling of 
 surprise at the number of gentlemen who were still 
 inmates of their beds or bed-rooms at this advanced 
 period of a fine summer's morning. On re-entering 
 the room on my return from church, I imagined for 
 a moment that I had mistaken the apartment. But 
 a familiar recognition from some of the inmates with 
 whom I had conversed on the previous evening 
 assured me of the room being the same, only under 
 another aspect. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 305 
 
 The large table which, at eleven o'clock, was in 
 bread and bntter order for receiving its guests, had 
 been entirely divested of its white morning robes and 
 china ornaments. But instead of being again dressed 
 for dinner, it was now disfigured by a variety of 
 desks and driving-boxes, new and old, and of various 
 shapes and sizes. Seated in front of these were their 
 respective owners, some writing, others engaged in 
 counting a handful of notes or a pile of gold ; and 
 all apparently employed on business of such vital 
 importance that it would admit of no delay. The 
 commercial-room at this moment resembled an apart- 
 ment in some banking establishment in which the 
 clerks are all busily engaged in preparing their 
 balances for the day. Instead of an agreeable pro- 
 spect from the flavor of a piece of roast beef — for 
 which I was fully prepared — there was nothing at 
 present stirring but a disagreeable scent from old 
 desks and dirty driving-boxes. 
 
 " Waiter, what is the time appointed for dinner 
 to-day?" I enquired. 
 
 Before the waiter had time to furnish a reply, the 
 lion — I beg pardon — the president of the day politely 
 informed me that dinner for himself and friends was 
 ordered to be on the table at five o'clock, and that the 
 addition of my company wou'd increase both the 
 pleasure and number of the party. An invitation 
 from so important an individual, and so highly 
 
 x 
 
306 NUMBER o>-e; oe, 
 
 scented with compliment, could hardly fail to be 
 acceptable to one so young on the road as myself. 
 Had I consulted my own feelings only, I should have 
 ordered dinner at once, instead of a sandwich and 
 glass of sherry as a temporary substitute. 
 
 It appears — or rather, it afterwards appeared, for I 
 was not at the time aware of the fact — that a certain 
 knot of " old stagers/' or, in other words, a few com- 
 mercial gentlemen, who enjoyed a social chat over 
 a frieudly bottle, where in the habit of meeting, at a 
 stated period in the year, at the White Hart Hotel, 
 Margate, for the purpose of spending a quiet and 
 agreeable day together — the reader may presently say, 
 " for the purpose of spending their time and money in 
 a very foolish manner." Be that as it may, this was one 
 of the appointed days for the " annual gathering." 
 
 A good dinner to a commercial man is no novelty. 
 It must be an extravagant " spread " indeed, that 
 would induce him to note it as anything beyond his 
 daily fare. The dinner provided on this occasion was 
 such as might create a slight sensation in its favor, 
 even with a commercial man. But Mr. Creed knew 
 his customers, and, like a sagacious landlord, he doubt- 
 less saw the reflection of " another bottle " in every 
 extra dish he placed upon the table. 
 
 Besides this, the president of the day was what 
 may be termed the landlord's friend. And, in the 
 commercial body, the landlord's friend is a gentleman 
 
TflE WAY OF THE WORLD. 307 
 
 who happens to be on intimate terms with certain 
 landlords, and who appears to consider the welfare of 
 such landlords before that of anybody else — even his 
 own. Because honored with an occasional invitation 
 to take wine and smoke a cigar in the bar, he deems 
 it his duty, whenever he can enforce it, to inflict the 
 penalty of the compliment on his friends in the com- 
 mercial-room. " Another bottle," or " another glass 
 for the good of the house," is always either proposed 
 or seconded by the landlord's friend. 
 
 The dinner hour at length arrived, and with it 
 a dinner which for variety and extravagance had, 
 perhaps, seldom been surpassed by Mr. Creed, or 
 witnessed by his patrons, and which — thanks to the 
 march of good sense — is but seldom, at the present 
 day, either seen or heard of in a commercial-room. 
 
 It being settled, after a brief discussion, who was 
 entitled to the honor of filling the chair, the president 
 and vice-president, supported by six of their honor- 
 able order on either side, took their respective seats 
 at table. After a graceless signal from the chair, the 
 splendid array of dishes were at once unmasked, and 
 the numerous staff by which they were surrounded 
 opened a destructive fire on the first two courses 
 presented to their notice, which consisted of real 
 turtle and other soups, backed by a fine turbot and a 
 splendid salmon. When the president had contri- 
 buted to the wants of his friends, he said : — " Gentle- 
 
308 NUJIBEB, ONE J OR, 
 
 men, from the splendid sample before us, we may 
 infer that our worthy landlord has provided rather a 
 handsome dinner on this occasion. As a slight 
 return for such liberality, I don't think we can do 
 less than order champagne ! " 
 
 " Less ! " exclaimed a little gentleman on his right, 
 who appeared to be his first lieutenant, inasmuch as 
 he supported everything that came from head quar- 
 ters ; " I hope, Mr. President, we shall do something 
 move before we've done." 
 
 " The chairman can't err," said another. 
 
 " Of course not," added a third. 
 
 "Waiter!" said the president, "champagne! — 
 iced, of course," he continued. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the waiter, as one of his deputies, 
 with an instinctive knowledge of the chairman's 
 wants, entered the room with a bottle in his hand; 
 " we had some iced on purpose, sir." 
 
 " Gentlemen, I shall be happy to take champagne 
 with each and all of you ! " was the president's chal- 
 lenge, on the report of the first bottle, which was soon 
 followed by another and another, and numerous others. 
 
 Thus, at brief intervals, during the time they were 
 occupied on the succeeding courses, which were in 
 all respects equal to their predecessors, bottle followed 
 bottle in rapid succession. So it continued till the 
 appearance of the cheese induced the president to 
 in'brm his friends that the worthy landlord kept the 
 finest glass of old port in the country. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 309 
 
 "And unless he wishes to keep it," facetiously re- 
 marked the lieutenant, " we shall not, Mr. Chairman, 
 be satisfied with your opinion on the subject." 
 
 Hereupon the company transferred their favors 
 from champagne to port. The subsequent introduc- 
 tion of a splendid dessert caused the president again 
 to inform his friends that there were but few inn- 
 keepers who held anything even worthy the name of 
 claret; but their worthy landlord was one of the 
 few exceptions, as he was the owner of some of the 
 choicest claret in the county of Kent. If, therefore, 
 thev had no objection, he would afford them an oppor- 
 tunity of affirming his assertion, by at once putting it 
 to the test. This, of course, was unanimously assented 
 to, and claret now took its place by the side of cham- 
 pagne and port. 
 
 But the disposition of the president's friends was 
 so kindly tempered by what had been taken, that 
 anv proposition, however extravagant or ridiculous, 
 would, at this moment, have met with entire appro- 
 bation. The majority felt inspired by that self- 
 created spirit of independence that carried the ideas 
 much beyond the cares of the world. They cared 
 neither for the world nor anything in it. Their lofty 
 imaginations were now elevated so far above the com- 
 mon occurrences of ordinary life, that happiness with 
 them was not now a something to be sought for, but 
 something they already possessed. All painful recol- 
 
310 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 lections of past sorrow was dead, and all thought of 
 future joy extended only to the next glass of wine. 
 However unpleasant, at other times, might be the 
 various peculiarities of their different dispositions, 
 good nature was at this moment the predominant 
 feature of all. Sullen and disagreeable tempers now 
 became affable and agreeable ones. Even the tongue 
 of the reserved character that had been long silent, 
 was now — like a water-mill after a long drought — by 
 the influence of a potent stream, brought again into 
 rapid motion. 
 
 When the first bottle of claret had been disposed 
 of, the landlord suddenly made his appearance, whis- 
 pered the president, placed a bottle of wine on the 
 table, and quickly made his exit. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the president, "our worthy land- 
 lord, with a noble spirit of liberality that influences all 
 his actions, has with my permission, placed this bottle 
 of claret on the table at his own expense." 
 
 " A regular trump ! " exclaimed the lieutenant. 
 
 " Gentlemen" continued the president, with in- 
 creased emphasis, " have the kindness to charge 
 your glasses." — Here he resumed his seat for a few 
 moments, and then rose again. — " Gentlemen, al- 
 though I feel quite unequal to the task I have under- 
 taken — (no, no, from his friends) — although, as I 
 said before, I feel myself unequal to the task, I have 
 everything but ability in my favor, as the mere men- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 311 
 
 tion of the gentleman's name whose health I am 
 about to propose,, will be sufficient in itself to ensure 
 a hearty response from all present. (Hear, hear, with 
 faint symptoms of applause.) Nothing that I can 
 say, gentlemen, can possibly increase your high 
 opinion of the true worth and inestimable qualities 
 of our worthy and much-esteemed landlord. (Hear, 
 hear, with marked indications of approbation from 
 his immediate friends.) Gentlemen, I will not waste 
 your time — (hear, hear, from one or two others) — I 
 will not waste your time by attempting to describe 
 the various traits of his noble character, as I should 
 only enumerate a few of his many virtues, without 
 being able to add to their lustre. (Hear, hear.) Gen- 
 tlemen, the very wine with which your glasses are 
 charged will afford vou a much better idea of the 
 liberality of his heart than can any empty words of 
 mine. (Hear, hear, with general applause.) With- 
 out further preface, gentlemen, I beg leave to propose 
 the health of our worthy landlord, Mr. Creed. Being 
 Sunday, you will please to moderate your applause as 
 much as possible. Bumpers, gentlemen, bumpers ! M 
 After the toast had been formally honored — what 
 toast is not ? — and more wine ordered, the presence 
 of the landlord was requested. On his arrival, the 
 vice-chairman, agreeably with instructions from head 
 quarters, made him acquainted with the honor that 
 had just been accorded him. 
 
312 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 The landlord briefly acknowledged the compliment, 
 modestly referred the company to their good fortune 
 in having so excellent a president, toasted their 
 healths in a bumper, and retired. 
 
 With each successive bottle the conversation be- 
 came more general, less refined, and much louder. 
 Now, they would all speak on one subject at once ; 
 then, half-a-dozen would include as many subjects in 
 one discourse. Now, they would speak one with 
 another, then altogether. The man of anecdote — the 
 hero of more adventures than anyone else — would 
 now try to astonish the company with something 
 that happened to himself but yesterday — but which 
 affair the company happened to have heard from 
 another man of anecdote a long time ago. Now, 
 the poetic man would quote a well-known passage 
 from some ancient work he had never read, and when 
 asked for the name of the author would give either 
 Byron or Burns. Then, the facetious or witty man would 
 say something remarkably funny, and immediately 
 show the company how they ought to appreciate 
 the joke, by leading off the laugh himself. The man 
 of froth would then boast of the splendid bottle of 
 port or claret he kept in the cellars of his own esta- 
 blishment at Brixton — an idea most likely suggested 
 by the recollection of a pint of porter he had recently 
 enjoyed in his apartments in the neighbourhood of 
 Islington. There were also present other men of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 313 
 
 doubtful wit and wisdom, but, being myself one of 
 the number, I may, out of self-respect, be permitted 
 to close the account with a brief summary of the 
 cause and consequence of the chairman's temporary 
 absence from his post. 
 
 This was about the time for leaving the chair for a 
 few moments, and this was the time the president 
 left it. During his absence, his lieutenant, who 
 was somewhat more advanced in wine than the 
 rest, rose and said, — "Mr. President — (hear, hear, 
 and laughter) — I beg pardon, Mr. Vice-president 
 and gentlemen — (hear, hear,) — with your permission, 
 sir, I beg leave to rise — hear, hear, and very good ! ) 
 — I beg leave to drink — I beg leave to propose — 
 (bravo!) — he is a brave fellow, gentlemen — I can't 
 tell you all I know of him — (hear, hear, with much 
 laughter and applause.) If you knew him as well as 
 I know him, he — if — (hear, hear,) — his actions, gentle- 
 men — (hear, hear, capital!) He is what he — what 
 he was — I mean what — what he appears to be — 
 (hear, hear, and applause.) Gentlemen, I have known 
 our president — I've known him, gentlemen — (a voice 
 — say a week,) — who are you? — (hear, hear, go on, 
 bravo!) Gentlemen, I rise — (laughter) — I rise, 
 gentlemen — (great laughter) — to propose my — to 
 propose the health of our noble president — (applause.) 
 Gentlemen, it will be unnecessary for me to tell you — 
 (a friend — cut it short) — I shan't. Gentlemen, I — 
 
314 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 why did you interrupt me ? Gentlemen, I — I am 
 satisfied — (several voices — so are we.) Eh? (hear, 
 hear, with roars of laughter and applause.) If you 
 expect to — (no, no, go on, my boy — you're all right.) 
 Gentlemen, I feel I have taken a little — (no, no, 
 bravo !) Gentlemen, our president's good health." 
 
 The vice-president, on resuming his seat, was re- 
 warded with a round of applause that caused several 
 wine glasses on the table to be broken. 
 
 The chairman, on his return, acknowledged the 
 compliment of which he had been the subject. It 
 was now past ten o'clock, so that the dinner and 
 what followed had already occupied more than five 
 hours, as well as the most pleasant part of a beautiful 
 summer's day. But matters now drew to a close. 
 The dinner-bill was called, divided, and announced 
 to be about twenty-five shillings each, which was 
 declared to be " exceedingly moderate." 
 
 The company now disposed of themselves in various 
 ways. Some took a walk, which occupied them so 
 long that they didn't walk in till the following 
 morning. Others, after becoming extensive patrons 
 of soda-water and brandy, proceeded to bed ; while 
 others slept soundly, for a time, where they were. 
 The president, of course, took his cigar and parting- 
 glass with the worthy landlord. 
 
 The foregoing is a faithful transcript of the notes 
 in my diary. The characters have been clothed 
 
 
THE WAT OP THE WORLD. 315 
 
 without any attempt at artificial display. They may 
 not have made use of the exact words set down for 
 them, although they did both say and do a good deal 
 more than is here recorded. 
 
 It may seem an unfortunate accident that led a 
 young traveller into such a scene of dissipation on 
 his first Sunday in a commercial-room. But I never 
 believed in misfortune in the life of a young man — 
 except so far as it may be regarded as such by him- 
 self. Believe an accident a misfortune and it will 
 become so. Scenes of extravagance are no doubt 
 unfortunate for the promoters or others who may 
 indulge in them; but their exhibition makes the 
 members of moderation inclined to be more moderate 
 still. Such, in this instance was the effect on me. 
 I had not been in the habit of wasting my oxen 
 money in this way, and I failed to see the necessity 
 of makino- thus free with the monev of others. 
 
 But let me not conceal from the reader the simple 
 fact that dissipation and extravagance were not my 
 only points of objection to this senseless feast. It 
 took place on the Sabbath day. Although no Puritan 
 in habit, much less so in profession, I, nevertheless, 
 had some little regard for a decent observance of the 
 seventh day. Although the " little legacy " that had 
 been left me by Honest John was still in the remote 
 corner of my chest (at home), the knowledge of its 
 possession, if not of its contents and value, icould 
 
316 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 sometimes float on the memory. In church, I always 
 remembered both the gift and the giver at least once 
 a-week. Since the death of my early benefactor, 
 there had been no one to remind me, by friendly 
 example, of the necessity for going to a place of 
 worship. But somehow or other, I had acquired a 
 habit of visiting- a building which I formerly tried to 
 avoid. This habit might have originated in a variety 
 of causes. I will not pretend to say which was the 
 prevailing cause. It might have been respect to the 
 cherished memory of Honest John. It might have 
 been the desire for being considered respectable. Or 
 it might have been the love of oratory, as I 
 loved dearly to hear an eloquent speaker, whether in 
 the pulpit, at the bar, or on the platform. But 
 whatever the cause, — I did go to church once, some- 
 times twice, on the Sabbath day. Yet — so far as I 
 can at present remember — the chief edification de- 
 rived from the habit was the occasional pleasure of 
 hearing a clever man. But the mere custom of going 
 to church — if it did nothing more — made me at least 
 indisposed to countenance any great violation of the 
 Sabbath, either on the part of those who did, or those 
 who did not go to a place of worship. The conse- 
 quence was that, throughout the remainder of my 
 career on the road, I tried to avoid scenes like those 
 which had been enacted during my first Sunday in 
 a commercial-room. 
 
 
THE WAY Of THE WORLD . 317 
 
 "While the road affords many opportunities for the 
 advancement of a young man of ability, it, at the 
 same time, offers every temptation to go astray. — 
 especially to one not possessed of strong moral courage. 
 Away from home — with frequent specimens of pro- 
 fligacy before his eyes, and unfettered by those feel- 
 inc^s of shame which, when surrounded bv his friends, 
 will sometimes prove a restraint on his actions — 
 there is every facility for the full exercise of his 
 inclinations. There is no one to question or reproach 
 him for his intemperate doings and unseasonable 
 hours at night, or for his idle habits in the morning. 
 He is himself sole master of his own free will, and 
 unless he be sufficiently master of himself to guide 
 and govern it aright, the pernicious influence of the 
 fast characters that occasionally cross his path will 
 soon taint his mind by those baneful and delusive 
 pleasures which prove fatal to the constitution and 
 character of many noble spirits. 
 
 On the other hand, the road offers to a young man 
 of sobriety and perseverance a more rapid way of 
 attaining mercantile eminence than almost any other 
 path in the commercial world. Some of the first 
 merchants and merchant-warehousemen in the king- 
 dom have, in the early stages of their career, repre- 
 sented, in the country, either their own or other 
 eminent houses. An old acquaintance who — like the 
 writer — was once a hard-working commercial traveller 
 
318 number one; ok, 
 
 is now one of the firm of the largest house, of its 
 class, in the world. He occasionally entertains, at 
 his town residence, some of the leading men in this 
 country. The size of the rooms in his house — the 
 largest of which was not more than half full on the 
 occasion and with the number of persons hereafter 
 alluded to — may be inferred from the following ex- 
 tract from a letter in which the gentleman reminds 
 me of an engagement I made to give one of my 
 scientific lectures before a small party at his house. 
 
 " Kensington Palace Gardens, 
 " January 15, 1860. 
 " My Deae Sie, 
 " In addition to the ladies and gentlemen previously invited 
 to hear your lecture, there will be a large party from Fulham 
 Palace. Altogether, I expect from 140 to 150. 
 
 "J shall be at home early to meet you, but my butler will 
 do all you may require. " Yours truly, 
 
 " GEORGE . * 
 
 " To , Esq." 
 
 The writer of the foregoing letter was once a 
 commercial traveller. So was I. But he had not 
 only a better horse (house) than his friend, but he 
 knew better how to drive it. 
 
 After I had travelled a little more than three years, 
 worked hard, established a good connexion, made my 
 
 * There recently appeared in a certain Eeriew a very laudatory sketch of 
 this gentleman' 8 commercial career. Many persons have assigned the parentage 
 of that paper to the author of the present -work. Without expressing any 
 opinion on the article in question, I will simply say it -was not written by me. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 319 
 
 position less arduous, seen and enjoyed the beauties 
 of the country, and saved a little money, I began 
 seriously to contemplate the abandonment, at once 
 and for ever, of all the advantages I had gained. I 
 again grew weary of commercial life. The natural 
 tendencies of the mind were once more making jyesent 
 occupation distasteful, and the laborer uncomfortable. 
 This occupation was made doubly distasteful through 
 another success which had just been secured with my 
 restrained but unconquerable " hobby." 
 
 Early rising had enabled me to write numerous 
 " Sketches of commercial life." These contained a 
 few modest /tints — termed by fast men, " revolutionary 
 doctrines " — on the necessity for reform in the com- 
 mercial-room. The book* was published under the 
 incognito of "A commercial man." The sale of the 
 little work was immense. But its commercial success 
 was a mere trifle compared to the excitement the 
 volume produced on the minds of other travellers, 
 and the effect of that excitement on the mind of 
 the author. The sketches were condemned by hun- 
 dreds of travellers, and purchased by thousands. The 
 condemnation insured their sale, without the aid of 
 any other advertisement. I can remember nothing 
 that I ever enjoyed more thoroughly than the sport 
 that now arose from my own handy work. No 
 
 * From which the sketch of my " first Sunday in a commercial-room " is 
 taken. 
 
320 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 writer ever heard his writing more freely discussed. 
 Either before or after dinner,, at grog-time or other 
 time, " Sketches of commercial life " came under re- 
 view. For at least three months after its publication, 
 the book was in some way referred to by somebody 
 in every commercial-room I entered. Nobody — but 
 himself — knew the author, who often opposed his own 
 principles, in order to provoke the discussion he so 
 much relished. The fast men of the road condemned 
 the work in toto, while the more steady-going charac- 
 ters came to the rescue. If sensible men never laugh 
 at their own sayings, I may at once pronounce myself 
 a fool, for never did human being laugh more fre- 
 quently or more heartily at the effect of a squib 
 which, as in this instance, had been directed at a 
 numerous and important fraternity. 
 
 My commercial career now drew to a close. As a 
 taste for literary pursuits increased, the taste for com- 
 merce declined. I resolved to leave business for ano- 
 ther walk in life, even if compelled, at a future 
 period, to retrace my steps. Acting on such resolve, 
 I drove to town, balanced accounts with the house I 
 represented, shook hands with the firm, ceased to be 
 their representative, and no longer considered my- 
 self a commercial man. I beheld, as I thought, a 
 more pleasing prospect in the distance. 
 
 il Thus from afar each dim-discovered scene 
 More pleasing seems than all the past hath been ! " 
 
CJagter t\b. 
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE, AND CHANGE OF 
 OCCUPATION. 
 
Who'd be an author ? This was a question I put 
 to myself after two years' service in the ranks of my 
 favorite profession. Yet I loved, more than any 
 other, the occupation I had selected. The heart was 
 so completely absorbed in its labors, and time passed 
 so pleasantly and so quickly with the laborer, that it 
 was only when I put down my pen to count or seek a 
 substantial return for its application that the question 
 of who'd be an author ? floated on the mind. If the 
 labors of the profession — because agreeable — were 
 liijht, the was:es were much lighter. When — which 
 was the case during the latter part of my commercial 
 engagement — I was in the receipt of four hundred 
 a -year, and a guinea a-day for travelling expenses, I 
 used to consider such pay, for hard work, to be very 
 small. But I now worked harder and longer*— only 
 icith instead of against the grain — for less than half 
 the sum. Although I wrote early and wrote late, 
 wrote poetry and wrote prose, wrote for others and 
 wrote for myself, it was some time before I wrote any- 
 thing long enough or strong enough to produce me 
 two hundred a-year. Nevertheless, I stuck to my 
 " hobby," yet found by experience that certain con- 
 
324 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 cessions to public taste would probably lead to private 
 benefit. On this faint glimmer of editorial wisdom, 
 I changed, or at least modified my course, by trying 
 to please my readers as well as myself. Instead of 
 attempting to take them to a region whence they 
 were not inclined to follow, I now tried to find out 
 how far they could be led, without fear of their de- 
 serting their leader. Instead of again ascending to 
 the clouds in a flight of imagination, I kept a run- 
 away spirit on a more simple path of composition 
 nearer home. By so doing I secured not only a 
 greater number of followers, but the substantial be- 
 nefits arising therefrom. 
 
 Time passed. Having either in a commercial or 
 literary capacity, visited nearly every city, town, and 
 district in the United Kingdom, I felt anxious for a 
 peep at some of our colonial possessions. The period 
 at which my desire originated was favorable to its 
 consummation. Extensive gold fields had just been 
 discovered in the vast and (then) almost unpeopled 
 continent of Australia. The excitement created in 
 England by the announcement of the discover}', 
 together with the general desire for authentic infor- 
 mation on the subject, induced me to think that 
 descriptive notes by an eye witness of the golden 
 region might prove a " decided hit." The thought 
 was at once clothed by action. Though sixteen 
 thousand miles did appear a long way to go for 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 325 
 
 materials to make a book, I was satisfied that the 
 book — to be worth anything — should be something 
 more than a fancy picture of one side of the world, 
 drawn by an artist on the other side. The imagina- 
 tion may, and often does accomplish a good deal in 
 the way of pretty pictures that are unlike anything 
 else; but I had no wish to advise people to rush 
 headlong — even on a golden errand — to the " sunny 
 Antipodes" of which I knew nothing, except by 
 report. Though the journey would not only be the 
 longest, but by far the most speculative I had yet 
 taken, I resolved to take it. As a literary man, I 
 had been long enough in business to become ac- 
 quainted with articles that did, and articles that did 
 not pay. Poetry with me could not be called good 
 stock, though firm in its position — a removal from 
 the shelf whereon it was first placed being unneces- 
 sary. In novel goods, there was so much competition 
 by amateur speculators and small professionals, while 
 the demand for the productions of two or three well 
 known and deservedly popular heads was so large, 
 that my own little store, against such heavy odds, 
 was something like a dwarf contesting a race with 
 giants. It was only now and then that the out- 
 rageously extravagant style of an article attracted 
 attention towards my little literary shop. But there 
 was one department in which I had not altogether 
 labored in vain. My sketches of real life, whether 
 
326 number one; or, 
 
 social or commercial, had been tolerably successful. 
 Like the main line of a railway, they had paid 
 interest on the bad stock of unprofitable branches. 
 Well. Here was an opportunity of providing for 
 my patrons sketches of real life in earnest. Life 
 in Australia was at this moment a reality with a 
 vengeance. 
 
 Neither change of profession nor change of posi- 
 tion in after life can entirely erase impressions made 
 on the mind of youth by early occupation and 
 habit. The tendency in human nature to show, 
 by word or deed, some little sign of early training 
 is not inaptly typified by the song that tells of 
 a man so far forgetting the position he occupied 
 on his own carriage as to alight therefrom, in order 
 to give an old comrade " a shove behind his 
 track." 
 
 Previous to my connexion with the press, I had 
 been for many years engaged in commerce. Sub- 
 sequently to my engagement in commerce, I had 
 been for many years connected with the press. I 
 was now going to Australia for materials with which 
 to make a book. Could I not, by the aid of com- 
 mercial knowledge, make a little money to cover the 
 expenses of the trip ? It was reported that every- 
 thing in the golden region, except gold, was enor- 
 mously dear. Could I not, without detracting from 
 the dignity of an author, do a little trade, by ex- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 327 
 
 changing a few things that were plentiful at home 
 for the only thing that was reported cheap at the 
 Antipodes ? A desire to supply the wants of others 
 if not my own, induced me to decide in the affirmative. 
 The way of the world had attractions which still 
 enabled me to make a trifling * sacrifice on a simple 
 matter of taste, in order to benefit number one. 
 After every pound I could muster — about four hun- 
 dred — had been expended in providing a miscel- 
 laneous collection of articles adapted to any but 
 a classical taste, I immediately set sail in a first- 
 class ship on my half-literary, half-commercial en- 
 terprise. 
 
 A large passenger ship is, for the time, an exten- 
 sive lodging-house, occupied by first, second, and 
 third-class lodgers. The great difference between the 
 liberty of the subject is, that the seaward occupants, 
 if not entirely confined to their own apartments, 
 have only a limited space for pedestrian exercise, 
 while the inland residents can wander from home at 
 their pleasure. But this temporary chain that keeps 
 the voyagers within their dwelling, or permits them 
 to take exercise only on the balcony — the poop — 
 enables each member of the captive family to " take 
 stock " of the other. For an agreeable as well as 
 a disagreeable knowledge of human nature there is 
 no place like a large passenger ship, and no oppor- 
 tunity like that of a three months' voyage with a 
 
328 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 miscellaneous party. Before the end of the excursion 
 a keen observer, without any apparatus beyond his 
 own vision, may imprint on his memory the stereo- 
 typed likeness not only of the outward form, but 
 also of the inward beauties or blemishes which 
 adorn or disfigure the various members of the social 
 crew. My own observations during two voyages 
 round the world would fill a moderate sized volume. 
 Their insertion here would be foreign to the ob- 
 ject of the present work. But, notwithstanding 
 this, I must briefly allude to one passenger — one 
 worthy of mention, because the leading features 
 of the character are in every way worthy of emula- 
 tion. 
 
 After we had passed the first fortnight on anything 
 but a placid ocean, crossed the Bay of Biscay, and 
 partially recovered from the effects of a sensation on 
 which it is not (now) necessary to dwell, the names, 
 the habits, and something of the character of each 
 member of the aquatic family gradually began to 
 dawn on the entire circle. Everybody knew every- 
 body. While A informed B what A had been, what 
 seen, what done, and from whom descended, B re- 
 turned the favor, by a portrait of himself, and each 
 respected so much of the self-drawn sketch of the 
 other as the general bearing of the original seemed 
 to justify. Thus were ideal or real pictures of num- 
 ber one furnished by the originals. But to this, as 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 329 
 
 to other rules, there was an exception. That excep- 
 tion was here found in 
 
 A DESIRABLE PASSENGER. 
 
 There was one passenger who had very little to 
 say about herself, and nothing — except in the way of 
 kindness — about anybody else. She sat next to the 
 captain at meals, and the captain called her Miss 
 Grace. By this name only was she known. But 
 from the beginning to the end of the voyage Miss 
 Grace was a mystery to all. She was an enigma 
 which no one could solve. Some said the mould of 
 her mind stamped her as a superior sort of gover- 
 ness. Others said the shabby-genteel appearance of 
 her apparel proved her to be either the daughter of 
 some half-pay officer, or the orphan of a bankrupt 
 merchant. But nobody could say positively who or 
 what she was. Yet she was a being whom everyone 
 loved — not merely respected but loved. Yes ; she 
 won the affection of all, without satisfying the 
 curiosity of any. 
 
 How then did this lady obtain and exercise such 
 power over the hearts of her fellow-passengers ? To 
 the reader this question may appear as great a riddle 
 and as difficult to solve as the lady herself. But a 
 few sentences may throw some light on the subject. 
 The potent spell under which we were held originated 
 partly through a feeling of sympathy excited by the 
 
330 number one; or, 
 
 lady's — seemingly — lonely situation, and partly by 
 the unaffected yet never-ceasing desire she manifested 
 for the happiness of all around. In a large ship, 
 crowded with passengers, there are often other ail- 
 ments than those produced by sea-sickness, and 
 other storms than those arising from the natural ele- 
 ments of wind and water. At such a time most 
 persons have enough to do in attending to themselves, 
 without trying to redress the social grievances of 
 those around. Yet there are a few among the many 
 who entirely forget, or at least disregard their own 
 trouble and discomfort, and seem to derive their chief 
 en oyment in their daily endeavours to contribute to 
 the happiness of others. Of this small minority in 
 the world Miss Grace happened to be a distinguished 
 member. Whenever, wherever, or by whomsoever 
 in the ship aid was needed, either to reconcile dis- 
 cordant spirits, comfort the broken-hearted, or ad- 
 minister to the wants of the sick, Miss Grace was 
 always at hand. She had often relieved, if not dis- 
 pelled, mental or bodily pain before anyone but her- 
 self and the sufferer knew of the wound. Neither the 
 cause nor the subject, however dark and uninviting, 
 prevented Miss Grace from penetrating the path 
 of sorrow, whenever she thought her presence 
 and her aid might lessen the prevailing gloom. 
 If a second or third-class passenger suffered — as 
 several did suffer — from the effects of fever or 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 331 
 
 some other fearful malady, Miss Grace, with an 
 almost reckless disregard of personal danger, at- 
 tended early and late at the bedside of the patient. 
 From her own little private store of preserves and 
 medical comforts she brought relief to the sufferer, 
 when the advice and prescriptions of an " experienced 
 surgeon " — a youth about twenty years of age, just 
 emerged from his apprenticeship — proved unavailing 
 because the patient had no faith in the practitioner. 
 Even poor Jack, a violent member of the crew, who 
 said he'd pitch the doctor overboard, if he came to 
 his berth, permitted a visit and accepted antidotes for 
 his disease from Miss Grace. When he had recovered, 
 he declared with an oath in the presence of his late 
 attendant, that the lady had saved his life. She re- 
 proved him for returning for her services a fee she 
 could not accept. The man was not again heard to 
 swear during the rest of the voyage. Thus the moral 
 influence over the mind equalled the power held by 
 Miss Grace on the heart. This influence and the 
 | great extent thereof, may be illustrated by a simple 
 
 ! incident and in a single sentence. One day, just as a 
 couple of third-class passengers were about to settle 
 ; their dispute by a pugilistic encounter, Miss Grace 
 [ happened suddenly to make her appearance. Not 
 
 [only did the approaching combatants immediately 
 sneak into their respective cabins, but those by whom 
 i they were surrounded, and who were eager for the 
 
332 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 coming sport, were at once scattered like a covey of 
 small birds at the approach of an eagle. 
 
 Towards the close of the voyage Miss Grace herself 
 became an invalid, and the loss of her daily visits was 
 most severely felt, especially by the third-class pas- 
 sengers. Excessive labor in her constant endeavour i 
 to advance both the temporal and spiritual welfare of' 
 others was the cause of her indisposition. That sym- 
 pathy for the fair sufferer was felt throughout the! 
 ship, from the commander to the cabin-boy, may be; 
 inferred by what followed. The gentle philanthropist! 
 had often expressed a wish that those on board who 
 could afford a trifle would unite in raising by sub- 
 scription a small sum of money for the benefit of a 
 poor but deserving family. This family of six persons 
 occupied berths in the third-class. The parents had 
 been in a good position, but had lost all their i 
 property. Their passage had been paid by friends at 
 home, and they had now only a few pounds with 
 which to enter on a new career at the Antipodes. 
 
 The highest compliment that can be paid to a 
 public benefactor is to carry out any unfinished 
 project of benevolence during the absence, through 
 illness or other causes, of the originator. It is also 
 the highest honor that can be paid to the memory 
 of departed greatness. It was resolved, if possible, 
 to accomplish the desire of Miss Grace, and then to 
 make the lady acquainted with the result. The 
 
THE WAY OP THE WORLD. 333 
 
 attempt was made and proved successful. In three 
 days, thirty-five pounds had been collected. The 
 subscription list, with the amount thereof, was sent 
 to Miss Grace, together with a request that she 
 would, on her recovery, present the contribution to 
 the family for whom it was intended. The money 
 was at once returned, with the intimation that the 
 proper persons to make the presentation were those 
 who had kindly carried out the suggestion of the 
 subscriber whose name appeared last on the list. 
 That name was indicated by Miss Grace under the 
 initials A. G. for the sum of fifteen pounds. This 
 raised the total to fifty pounds. 
 
 The unexpected contribution of fifteen pounds from 
 Miss Grace created an immense amount of surprise 
 and excitement. The sensation was not altogether 
 an agreeable one. The mysterious donor became a 
 greater mystery than ever. Nobody supposed she 
 had fifteen pounds for her own use, much less for dis- 
 pensation in charity. All on board had long been 
 satisfied that her heart was one of the noblest that 
 ever filled a human form with heavenly emotions. 
 But some of her admirers began, now, to doubt 
 whether she was quite sound in the head. Nothing 
 appeared to justify her extraordinary liberality. The 
 plain apparel and unassuming manner of the giver 
 seemed to denote that she was the only one of the 
 first-class passengers to whom a sovereign would be 
 
334 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 an object of consideration. The donation was m 
 every way something as incomprehensible as the 
 donor herself. 
 
 A ship at sea is for the time being a little world 
 in itself. The inhabitants know nothing except by 
 surmise of what is going on elsewhere. In so cir- 
 cumscribed a space an object of less interest either 
 than the mysterious Miss Grace or her equally 
 mysterious gift often proves a subject for continued 
 excitement and discussion. Here, as in the outer 
 world, a trifling matter will sometimes swell into a 
 subject of importance, in the same way as a little 
 event may give birth to a great one. At the sugges- 
 tion of Miss Grace, a collection had just been made 
 in behalf of a poor family. This was regarded simply 
 as an act of charity. It was followed by another — 
 not merely an act of charity, but a substantial and 
 universal token of regard in favor of the founder of 
 the first. We were within a few days' sail of our 
 destination, and it was resolved, as one of the pro- 
 moters justly observed, " to do something handsome 1 
 for the lady who had devoted her time and money, 
 and impaired her health for the benefit of her fellow 
 passengers. Everybody supposed Miss Grace to be 
 poorer than the family to whom fifty pounds had 
 just been presented, one -third of which had been 
 subscribed by the fair philanthropist. Everybody 
 likewise believed — not only believed but felt that to 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 335 
 
 allow the lady to leave the ship on her mysterious 
 mission, of which no one but herself knew anything, 
 without a suitable token of regard from her admirers, 
 would be a lasting disgrace to all on board. A 
 subscription was therefore decided on. The list was 
 opened and closed on the same day — inasmuch as 
 on the second day there was not a human being in 
 the ship that had not sent in a trifle towards the 
 proposed object. Little children from five years old 
 and upward, sailor boys and sailors— all had con- 
 tributed their mite, and the subscription list con- 
 tained the name of every individual in the ship, 
 except that of Miss Grace herself. Thus in the space 
 of a few hours, eighty -two pounds fifteen shillings had 
 been collected. Its presentation was a pleasing duty 
 the subscribers had yet to perform. 
 
 To say that modesty is ever found the handmaid 
 to virtues of the highest order is simply to state a 
 fact that has been more or less apparent in every age 
 since the world began. Miss Grace was no mock 
 philanthropist, therefore not anxious either to see or 
 hear the publication of her own good deeds. She 
 had been informed of the " testimonial n that awaited 
 her acceptance, and had communicated to the in- 
 formant her wishes on the subject. On the same 
 day on which the captain gave to his crew half a 
 sheep for a fresh dinner, together with an extra 
 allowance of "grog," he invited all the second and 
 
336 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 third-class passengers to a substantial tea. This was 
 to be followed by a speech from the chairman (the 
 captain) concerning the bag of money he had been 
 deputed to present to Miss Grace. The first-class 
 passengers were invited to be present after the repast, 
 in order to hear the message in which they had a 
 joint interest. Of course, everybody expected that 
 the chief object of interest — as she had nearly re- 
 covered from her indisposition — would herself be 
 present on the occasion. Apart from a general desire 
 to testify by their hands — as they had already done 
 by their money — to the noble and unselfish labors of 
 their heroine, the majority of the passengers were 
 curious in their anxiety to learn whether the object 
 of their esteem would on this occasion withdraw the 
 veil which had so long and so effectually concealed 
 everything pertaining to her own history. 
 
 So soon as the repast had received from its nume- 
 rous patrons the justice due to its recherche character, 
 the captain of the feast, who was also captain of the 
 ship, — and a noble fellow to boot — rose and said : — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, and youngsters, — speech- 
 making is no part of my profession. I never tried 
 my hand at spinning yarns, except an occasional 
 rope-yarn. Though a bad hand at this sort of work, 
 the dignity of the subject on the present occasion 
 makes me feel like one who has — already put his 
 foot in it. You see, ladies and gentlemen, I have 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 337 
 
 soon proved my first proposition, by trying to take 
 a lofty course. But I'll now put about again, and 
 keep on my own natural tack. (Cheers and laughter.) 
 Well. You have deputed me to present this bag of 
 gold to a lady who has indeed proved herself worthy 
 of your esteem. (Cheers, and cries of — Miss Grace.) 
 If you'll only haul taut your weather-main brace, I'll 
 go a-head. The lady is not too unwell to attend, but 
 she canH attend. (Sensation and renewed cries for 
 Miss Grace.) I am going to tell you a secret. See, 
 now, — you are quiet in a moment. One little word 
 has stilled the storm. What a pleasant thing to 
 have the command of a little secret. It is surely the 
 great secret of public speaking. (Laughter.) I have 
 now got you so tight in hand, that I am almost in- 
 clined to retain my power a little longer. (Laughter 
 and cries of no, no.) Well, as I am not fond of a 
 dead calm, I'll open out for your satisfaction. I see 
 that the ladies, though seated at table, are all on the 
 tiptoe of curiosity. Let me ask one question, the 
 answer to which will decide whether you are to have 
 all or only half the secret. May this money be 
 applied by the recipient to any other than the object 
 for which it was intended ? (Loud cries of no, no ; 
 it's for Miss Grace, for herself only.) Well, then, 
 your kindness makes it necessary for me to reveal a 
 personal matter which the lady has kept, and still 
 wished to have kept from your knowledge. The 
 
 z 
 
33 S number one; or, 
 
 money which you have subscribed for Mm Grace 
 cannot be accepted, because it is not needed by Lady 
 Grace Courtly. (Great sensation.) Yes, ladies and 
 gentlemen, that unassuming form that has done so 
 much towards mating you contented and happy 
 during the voyage is a lady by birth, a lady of 
 fortune, and need I tell you that, above all, she is a 
 lady in her actions? (Great cheering and excite- 
 ment.) When she has so strongly impressed this 
 fact on the mind of every one on board, you may be 
 at a loss to imagine her motive for concealing her 
 birthright from all but myself. On her first entering 
 this ship, she desired me not to publish my know- 
 ledge of her position and title. But she assigned no 
 reason for her wish. You are now as well qualified 
 as myself to form an opinion on the subject. I am 
 inclined to think that her ladyship supposed she 
 could do more for you in the character of Miss Grace 
 than you would have been willing to accept from her 
 under the flying colors of Lady Grace Courtly. (Loud 
 cheers.) And that she wished to be received by you 
 as an affectionate sister, rather than as a formal 
 patron. (Applause.) The success of her endeavours 
 is ratified by your proffered testimonial. (Cheers.) 
 But there will be something that will endure longer 
 — something to perpetuate her memory better tban 
 gold. If those brothers and sisters whom Lady Grace 
 has served, at the cost of her own health, are only 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 339 
 
 what they ought to be, the likeness of their benefac- 
 tress will hang on their hearts while life itself shall 
 therein find a dwelling-place. (Immense cheering 
 and cries for Miss Grace, Lady Grace, Lady Grace 
 Courtly.) Don't make quite so much noise. The 
 silent tears which I observe falling in some quarters 
 constitute the best tribute to the lady's worth. Well. 
 You have only had half the secret. Would you like 
 the other half? (Yes, yes, and loud applause.) But 
 I must tell you the price, though the money is 
 alreadv advanced. You see this bag of gold. What 
 is to be done with it — returned to the subscribers? 
 (Xo, no.) What then? Are you willing that the 
 lady for whom it was originally intended should 
 settle the question ? (Yes, yes, from a huudred 
 voices.) But I must put it to the vote, as her lady- 
 ship will not act, if there be but one dissentient. 
 Those who are in favor of the proposition hold up 
 one hand. (This request was responded to by every- 
 body holding up both hands.) The opinion seems 
 unanimous, but I'll simply ask, is there any oppo- 
 nent? (No, no, and great cheering.) Well, ladies 
 and gentlemen, unanimity is the seal under which I 
 am permitted to act on her ladyship's behalf. As 
 you have paid the purchase money and fulfilled the 
 conditions of the contract, here is the freeholder's 
 assignment of her rights. Let me first tell you that 
 the original sum of eighty-two pounds fifteen shil- 
 
340 NEME-ER one; or, 
 
 lings is now raised by her ladyship to one hundred 
 guineas. (Tremendous applause, with loud and con- 
 tinued cries for Miss Grace, Lady Grace, Miss 
 Courtly, Lady Courtly.) I tell you her ladyship is 
 in her cabin, and has no wish to be disturbed. You 
 would surely not deprive her of this one comfort, 
 when she has been the cause of your enjoying so 
 many ? She is fully sensible of your kindness, but 
 is by far too sensitive for this outward manifestation 
 of esteem. Besides which, her presence during this 
 excitement might place her in danger of being 
 literally torn to pieces by her own lovers. (Laughter 
 and cheers.) And you know very well she has 
 always evinced a desire to allay rather than to arouse 
 the passions. (Renewed applause.) I will now read 
 from a slip of paper I hold in my hand the sugges- 
 tions of Lady Courtly concerning the distribution of 
 the sum of one hundred guineas, of which you have 
 subscribed eighty-two pounds fifteen shillings. Her 
 ladyship wishes seventy pounds to be remitted to 
 England for the widow of the poor fellow — one of 
 the crew — that we lost overboard off the Cape of 
 Good Hope. (Great cheering, followed by a tre- 
 mendous volley of hurrahs from the sailors.) I may 
 here observe that her ladyship had previously placed 
 thirty pounds in my hands for the same object. 
 (Renewed applause.) The remaining portion of the 
 contribution is thus allotted : — Five guineas to Miss 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 341 
 
 Faithful, the young lady who has so kindly assisted 
 in the school which has been established on board by 
 Lady Courtly. (Loud cheers.) One guinea to each 
 of three scholars who have obtained the greatest 
 number of good marks. (Cries of bravo little ones, 
 followed by an enquiry of ' Mother, am I to have a 
 guinea ? ' This query, together with the answer from 
 another scholar — ' Yes, Annie, and so am V — created 
 a considerable amount both of laughter, applause, 
 and general excitement among the children.) Each 
 of the other scholars will receive the sum of five 
 shillings, unless Miss Faithful should deem any un- 
 deserving through wilful misconduct. (Increased 
 uproar among the children, with the most suppli- 
 cating appeals and glances to Miss Faithful.) Lady 
 Courtly wishes the balance to be applied in the pur- 
 chase of Bibles for any of the sailors who may be 
 disposed to accept a copy, or who may at present be 
 without one. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I 
 have said my say, and I hope my little secrets have 
 satisfied the curiosity of the curious. You are now 
 aware that we have a real lady on board. (Laughter 
 and cheers.) Y'ou have long since discovered the 
 value of the article, and I have now given you the 
 title. In conclusion, let me hope that you are all 
 satisfied with the manner in which Lady Courtly 
 has directed both her own and your money to be dis- 
 tributed, and that the objects selected as recipients of 
 the bounty are alike worthy of her ladyship's judg- 
 
342 number one; or, 
 
 ment and your approval." (The captain resumed his 
 seat amid the most enthusiastic cheering.) 
 
 One of the first-class passengers here stepped for- 
 ward and said : — " Ladies and gentlemen, I am quite 
 sure you will not allow your excellent chairman to 
 vacate the post he has so ably filled, without accord- 
 ing him a hearty vote of thanks not only for his 
 services on this social occasion, but also for his uni- 
 form kindness to all on board during the long voyage 
 which is now nearly brought to a close. (Loud 
 cheers.) Our worthy commander would have found 
 our good opinion of him supported by evidence 
 stronger than words, had not that priceless jewel, the 
 title of which we have just heard, caused the sub- 
 stantial part of our offerings to take a charitable 
 direction." (Loud applause, followed by three cheers 
 for the chairman.) 
 
 The captain again rose and thus returned thanks 
 for the ovation : — " I thank you for your good 
 opinion. For doing his duty, a commander does 
 sometimes get paid by the passengers as well as by 
 the owners of a ship. There are not many modest 
 men in the world who would object to double pay for 
 their services, even though one of the awards should 
 be a gratuitous one. (Hear, hear.) When people 
 have insisted on proving the value of their words by 
 a corresponding number of guineas, my own modesty 
 has never, that I am aware of, prevented me from 
 putting the test of friendly professions into my 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 343 
 
 pocket. (Laughter and cheers.) But so far as this 
 voyage is concerned, the pleasure I have derived 
 through seeing you contented and happy, has proved 
 to me a reward of far greater value than a few ounces 
 of gold. (Renewed applause.) The presence of 
 agreeable passengers often relieves a sailor's life of 
 a good deal of its monotony. During this passage 
 we have, somehow or other, been all like one family. 
 If I could only be sure of always having such a 
 family at sea, with a real lady at the helm, I should 
 never desire to be anything but a sailor. (Laughter 
 and applause.) Never, till now, should I have thought 
 it possible that in the midst of so large a number of 
 persons one gentle and, I may say, God-like spirit 
 could have imparted a kindred tone throughout the 
 entire circle. (Cheers.) I have always given the 
 ladies credit for a good many of our joys, but, after 
 this voyage, I must give them credit for a good many 
 more. We are now within a few hours' sail of land, 
 and let me in conclusion hope that you may never 
 live under greater trouble there than has fallen to 
 your lot at sea." (Great cheering, during which the 
 captain vacated the chair and the party gradually 
 dispersed.) 
 
 Although at the beginning of the voyage Lady 
 Grace Courtly contrived to enter the ship like some 
 obscure individual, unobserved and almost unattended, 
 she was not allowed to take her departure in the like 
 manner. No doubt she would gladly have slipped 
 
3-i A NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 away, without any manifestation of esteem on the 
 part of her admirers, beyond an affectionate and 
 almost silent farewell. This was accorded her by 
 many — probably by her warmest lovers, as a noisy 
 tongue is not an infallible test of a sincere heart. 
 But in a mixed company enthusiasm, when kindled, 
 assumes a variety of forms. Lady Courtly had her- 
 self fanned into a flame a warmth of feeling- that 
 naturally surrounded its author on the occasion of a 
 final parting with those whose affections she had won. 
 We had no sooner dropped anchor in Hobson's 
 Bay than an eight-oared cutter appeared alongside. 
 A gentleman from the boat came on board, spoke a 
 few words to the captain, and was immediately con- 
 ducted to the cabin occupied by Lady Courtly. A 
 rumour was soon circulated that the visitor was either 
 her ladyship's brother or cousin, and that he would 
 in a short time convey his distinguished relative to 
 the shore. An extraordinary commotion among the 
 passengers was at once observable. Even the sailors, 
 who were busily engaged in furling sail and putting 
 the ship in order, seemed anxious to show some mark 
 of respect to the heroine of the voyage, as the time 
 approached for her final departure from the ship. 
 That moment had now arrived, and a most exciting 
 one it was. AVhen her ladyship had left her cabin 
 and appeared on deck for the last time, a scene that 
 altogether baffles minute description at once pre- 
 sented itself. The lady's brother, or cousin, or what- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 345 
 
 ever he was, must have been astonished at the 
 spectacle, if he had never before witnessed a public 
 recognition of his fair relative's merits. Her lady- 
 ship probably gave and received more kisses on this 
 occasion than were ever before exchanged in so short 
 a period. Every child, and nearly every female on 
 board shared the affectionate salutation. All alike, 
 forgetting- the social distinction between themselves 
 and their benefactress, rushed to an embrace that was 
 to convey their last external token of gratitude, love, 
 and duty. The remark of a dear little child who — 
 fearing she might be overlooked amid the prevailing 
 excitement — loudly exclaimed " Do kiss me, Miss 
 Grace," is a fair type of the manner in which titles, 
 position, and conventional forms were all neglected 
 and forgotten in the natural ebullition of kindred 
 hearts. Impressed by a sense of having simply per- 
 formed her duty, Lady Courtly herself seemed more 
 surprised than anyone else at the warmth of the 
 ovation. But she was much affected by its evident 
 sincerity. "When she had taken her seat in the boat 
 that was to convey her to the shore, and countless 
 white handkerchiefs, together with a few that might 
 once have been white, performed the double duty 
 of wiping away their owners' tears, and waving a 
 final adieu to the fair philanthropist, the scene was 
 not only a most affecting but a most imposing one. 
 So soon as the cutter was fairly clear of the ship, 
 the sailors received the signal for giving vent to their 
 
346 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 pent-up feelings. The captain's friendly appeal to 
 the gallantry of his crew in the hoped-for command 
 of " Now boys, three cheers for the sailor's friend/' 
 was responded to by a volley as loud and as fervent as 
 ever greeted a sovereign that ruled the hearts of 
 British subjects. And when, at the unexpected dis- 
 charge of a cannon which the carpenter had secretly 
 commissioned for the occasion, those cheers were 
 renewed with increased vigor, and Lady Courtly 
 waved her own handkerchief in recognition of the 
 compliment, the excitement was intense. The Queen 
 of Great Britain has at no period of her popular 
 reisrn created a more thrilling sensation than was 
 at this moment produced by Lady Grace Courtly 
 on the minds of her fondly-gazing but already distant 
 admirers. 
 
 << # * * g]^ came> unheralded hy fame, 
 To leave behind a dearly -cherished name." 
 
 To the foregoing truthful story, I will only add 
 my own belief, that all on board had, by the potent 
 influence of Lady Courtly's acts, had their opinion of 
 the nobility in general raised at least fifty per cent. ; 
 and that, at the close of the voyage, everybody felt 
 convinced that, if Lady Grace was a fair sample of 
 other real ladies, the " upper ten thousand " con- 
 tained living gems of greater value than the estimate 
 usually taken of them by the less aristocratic mul- 
 titude. 
 
&jajjtet *fr. 
 
 MONEY— MONEY— MONEY. 
 
"What a pleasant thing- it is to be making money. 
 Yes j it is a pleasant thing to be making money 
 rapidly, but excess of pleasure in the process some- 
 times makes the business dangerous as well as 
 pleasant. In my case, let me give the reader the 
 true features of the event in the chronological order 
 of their original development — pleasure first and 
 danger, if any, as it arose. 
 
 On landing in [Melbourne in 1853, I found almost 
 everybody mad with excitement. "Who could avoid 
 danger from the disease, when gold was the cause of 
 the malady ? I will not now attempt either a de- 
 tailed sketch of Australia, or an account of the moral 
 condition of the people at a period when the mag- 
 netic influence of the precious metal created a social 
 revolution, for the like of which history may be 
 searched in vain. These things are patent to every- 
 body, and have long since been given to the world 
 by a hundred pens — the writer's included. But I 
 then told only of the commercial dealings of others. 
 Let me now give a brief summary of my own. At 
 this time everything in Australia of a commercial 
 and social, if not of a moral character, was as com- 
 pletely the opposite of everything in the United 
 
350 number one ; oft, 
 
 Kingdom as the Antipodes itself. Instead of it 
 being difficult, as in the mother country, to find a 
 ready sale for goods at high prices, the only diffi- 
 culty in Australia at this moment was to find goods 
 in order to sell them at any price. No sooner had I 
 placed my foot on the golden region than I was sur- 
 rounded by a host of anxious enquirers, intoxicated 
 speculators, and would-be purchasers, while all sorts 
 of strange voices saluted me with the following and 
 similar questions : — " Anything to sell ? Any goods 
 onboard? I can buy your invoices. What cargo 
 has the ship? Well; if you've nothing to say and 
 nothing to sell, will you have a nobbier? As you're 
 a new chum, we'll do the thing handsome." 
 
 These signs of the commercial barometer indicated 
 a pleasing prospect for one who had goods to sell, 
 and whose only regret was that he had so few. As 
 for excitement — it began with me the first hour of 
 my arrival in the colony, and never left me till after 
 my departure. The chief object of my visit — as 
 originally designed — was that of making a book. 
 This was completely obscured, if not entirely for- 
 gotten, in the more ready process that now presented 
 itself of mailing money. True I might have disposed 
 of the whole of my little stock of goods at twenty, 
 thirty, or perhaps fifty per cent, profit, and in one lot, 
 immediately on my arrival. But, like others in the 
 way of the world, I was not to be satisfied with a 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 351 
 
 moderate return for my investment, so long as there 
 was a chance of an inordinate rate in the distance. 
 
 The numerous discomforts that fell to my lot 
 during the brief space of two months would have 
 been declared intolerable, had I not all the time been 
 making money. I should not so patiently have sub- 
 mitted to the indignity of sleeping, or rather lying, 
 in a room with some half-dozen human strangers, 
 had not the approaching morrow foreshadowed the 
 more brilliant prospect of making money. The price 
 paid to be made miserable was even greater than the 
 misery itself — especially to those whose social troubles 
 found a balm in that all-potent palliative, the con- 
 stant recurring fact of making money. My daily 
 expenses were about three guineas. "What of that — 
 when the daily profits were more than thirty ! Three 
 guineas a day may appear a high figure for being 
 made miserable, but thirty guineas a day made the 
 temporary endurance of the misery at least bearable, 
 if not desirable. At all events, the annoyances when 
 over, appeared greater, on reflection, than at the 
 period of their sufferance. 
 
 At the expiration of about two months I had 
 converted everything I could dispense with into 
 " nuggets," even to the ring on my little finger. 
 All except personal requisites, and a few of these, 
 too, had been exchanged for the precious metal. 
 Not even the little watch in my pocket escaped 
 
352 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 colonial seizure — a digger having insisted both on 
 becoming the purchaser and paying for the object 
 of his fancy about five times more than its original 
 value. 
 
 Having thus completely "sold out/' at profits 
 varying from fifty to five hundred per cent., and 
 having secured a weighty box of " gold dust " as a 
 return for my commercial enterprise, the question 
 arose — what is to be the next move ? The question 
 was soon decided, and the move soon made. 
 
 Whenever or wherever has there been a sudden 
 " hit " at money making that has not been followed 
 by a desire, on the part of the performer, for a repe- 
 tition of the performance ? Who is there in the way 
 of the world whose appetite was ever sharpened by 
 the flavor of a fortunate venture, without retaining 
 a taste for a similar or still more sumptuous repast ? 
 While asking the question for others, I will only 
 attempt to answer for myself. Of one thing I had 
 obtained positive proof, namely, — that two months in 
 Australia had enabled me to make more money than 
 I had previously earned in the mother country in five 
 years. The drama had only to be repeated on a 
 grander scale in order to make the performer at least 
 a man of fortune, if not a fortunate man. Could I 
 hesitate to act, when action had already produced 
 and still promised such brilliant results? Five 
 minutes' consideration, and the question was settled. 
 
THE WAT 01 THE WORLD. 353 
 
 " TVlien will the first ship sail for England ? " My 
 enquiry on this head elicited from the agent of such 
 ship the answer — " She will sail in three days/ J 
 
 u Any vacant berths in the first -class ? " I enquired. 
 
 "No single ones/' replied the agent. " Only one 
 cabin for a married couple, and this we expect to be 
 taken by a gentleman who is to call again in half-an- 
 hour." 
 
 " And, of course, it will not be let to another? " 
 
 " To anybody that pays first. We consider nothing 
 settled till we get the cash." 
 
 "What's the amount required for securing the 
 cabin ? " 
 
 " One hundred guineas for two passengers.''' 
 
 "But you would not, I suppose, object to the same 
 price for one ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said the agent. 
 
 "Then, I'll bring you the money in ten minutes." 
 
 Ten minutes had scarcely elapsed ere I had been 
 for and returned with the amount. No sooner had 
 I paid the money and received a certificate to prove 
 my right of possession to the vacant berth, than the 
 squatter who had promised to return in half-an-hour 
 made his appearance. On being informed the cabin 
 was no longer disengaged, he poured forth a volley of 
 abuse in language I will not attempt to describe. 
 But his oaths were soon checked by the ship -agent, 
 who coolly informed the swearer that his tongue had 
 
 B B 
 
354 NOIBEE. ONE ; OR, 
 
 furnished ample evidence that the absence of its 
 owner from the ship would not prove a very serious 
 loss to the passengers. 
 
 Notwithstanding his abuse, the abuser had justice 
 on his side. He had called with his money according 
 to promise ; and, on subsequent reflection, I felt that 
 the agent in letting the cabin as he had done, and 
 the tenant who had taken it, were equally blameable 
 for such "sharp practice." For my share in the 
 transaction, however, punishment soon followed the 
 act of the guilty one. At the expiration of three 
 days, when the ship was to have sailed, there were no 
 sailors to sail her — the entire crew, with the exception 
 of the officers and one man, having abandoned the 
 vessel and gone to the diggings. Three weeks in- 
 stead of three days were now expended in making 
 "ready for sea/' In the interval I had the mortifi- 
 cation to witness the departure of another ship, 
 which contained the veritable squatter and his wife 
 whom I had previously deprived of the cabin I now 
 held at doable fare. 
 
 The unavoidable delay of our ship gave me an 
 opportunity to see a little of the interior of the 
 country. The price of seeing that little gave rise 
 to a subsequent endeavour to devise some move for 
 resuscitating the cost of so expensive a sight. A 
 journey to and from the Ballarat diggings, together 
 with a week's residence on the rich gold field, in- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 355 
 
 volved an outlay of nearly forty pounds. The reader 
 will have no difficulty in premising the various 
 luxuries that raised the bill to its grand total, by 
 noting the figures of one item only : — At a refresh- 
 ment house on my way to the golden region, I par- 
 took of some bread and cheese and a bottle of ale, the 
 bill for which amounted to fifteen shillings. 
 
 On my return from the diggings, the ship was still 
 reported " short of hands/' Well. Is there no way 
 of making enough money to cover the expenses occa- 
 sioned by delay ? Having, through the want of 
 merchandise, ceased for the time to play the mer- 
 chant, is there no other character by which I can 
 make an honest penny, or rather an honest pound, 
 for at this golden period there were no copper coins 
 in the colony — at least I saw none. At certain 
 literary institutions in the mother country I had on 
 several occasions given " Shakspearean readings. " 
 Why not try the effect of an elocutionary entertain- 
 ment at the Antipodes ? As a rule, the excited in- 
 habitants just now would, no doubt, prefer "nobblers" 
 to poetry. But Shakspeare for " one night only " 
 might possibly draw an audience, even though the 
 reader should fail to gratify them. " Solve your 
 doubt by putting it to the test/' said a friend. " Fll 
 do so/' said I. 
 
 Unfortunately for the performer, the difficulty be- 
 tween saying and doing what had been decided on 
 
356 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 was at this moment greater in Australia than in 
 England. At present, we had "no moon." As 
 nobody could venture at night on the tips and dozens 
 of the unfinished and unlighted streets of Melbourne, 
 in the absence of the evening luminary, without fear 
 either of breaking his head or having it broken for 
 him, there was not the least chance — even had the 
 star of the night been a brilliant instead of a remote 
 one — of attracting an audience from home, unaided 
 by the light of the moon. 
 
 At length the ship was manned by a sufficient 
 number of hands to enable the agents to declare her 
 " ready for sea." The moon had also sufficiently 
 developed herself to enable me to announce an ff elo- 
 cutionary entertainment " for the evening preceding 
 my departure for England. Anything and every- 
 thing that had been attempted in Australia during the 
 year, of which this evening was a fragment, had 
 resulted in money making. I feared this literary 
 speculation might prove a solitary exception. Such 
 however was not the case. The building selected for 
 the occasion was large, inconvenient, and uncom- 
 fortable. But when the time had arrived for opening 
 the doors, a miscellaneous crowd — in anything but 
 full dress — had arrived to enter them. Ten minutes 
 sufficed to fill the room. In less than five minutes 
 after, a variety of shouts for the performer, inter- 
 spersed with cries of " "What's he waiting for? Why 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 357 
 
 does'nt he make a start ? " &c, compelled me, for the 
 first and only time in my life, to begin a lecture 
 twenty minutes before the time specified in the 
 syllabus. 
 
 Beyond saying that — with one exception — my 
 hearers were not only orderly but also attentive, I 
 will simply refer to a couple of curious incidents con- 
 nected with the performance. Either the composi- 
 tion or delivery of one of the serious pieces in the 
 programme roused the anger of an offended spirit. 
 Whether my declamation was or was not too violent 
 for the character I attempted to personify, or whether 
 owing to the dagger I held in my hand, a bloody 
 encounter appeared imminent, I am unable to say. 
 But the irritable and exceptionable member of the 
 audience alluded to — a fine dog — and the only living 
 creature, I believe, that had not paid for admittance, 
 began a growl that resolved itself into a terrific bark 
 just at the moment Cato was contemplating self- 
 destruction. Never was hesitation between life and 
 death more quickly settled, and never did a sublime 
 soliloquy produce greater laughter than on this occa- 
 sion terminated the life of the piece before the end 
 of the character. 
 
 The second incident* in some respects, resembled 
 the first. Though the hero was of the human instead 
 
 * This incident has been mentioned in my work— which will hereafter be 
 alluded to— on Australia. 
 
358 number one; or, 
 
 of the canine species, and although his appreciation 
 of poetry might have exceeded that of the four- 
 legged animal, his knowledge of the particular 
 character on which he commented appeared on a par 
 with that of poor " Shepherd." The substance of 
 what I am about to narrate was communicated by an 
 inmate of the hotel at which I lodged. The gentle- 
 man was present at my lecture, and as his story was 
 confirmed by another of the audience who heard the 
 dialogue, I have no reason to doubt its accuracy. It 
 appears that next my friend at the lecture sat a very 
 wealthy, though not a very learned squatter. During 
 the lecture, after I had recited " Wolsey' s farewell to 
 the world," the magnate alluded to remarked, that 
 " Mr. Wolsey appeared to have been very badly used, 
 but," he continued, " who was this Wolsey ? I have 
 never heard of him before, have you ? — who or what 
 was he ? " 
 
 My informant added considerably to my amuse- 
 ment on saying that he replied to his inquisitor by 
 telling him that "Mr. Wolsey formerly held a com- 
 mission in a large and well-known establishment." 
 u I thought so," rejoined the colonial millionaire, — 
 "a commercial traveller, I suppose ? But," he con-, 
 tinued, ' ' what did he mean by ' the tender leaves of 
 hope ? ' I suppose he travelled for the firm of Hope 
 i n the tea trade ? " The closing supposition proved too 
 much for the gravity of his respondent, whose in- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 359 
 
 genuity was suddenly taxed to find some other than 
 the real cause for a burst of laughter that followed 
 an enquiry of so serious but stimulating a nature. 
 
 Having by my elocutionary entertainment netted 
 a clear profit of about forty-seven pounds, I felt so 
 highly satisfied with the result of my evening's exer- 
 tions as to wish that the homeward-bound ship might 
 be delayed a few days longer. Had such an event 
 taken place, I should certainly have announced my 
 literary medley for repetition — so long as a cheerful 
 moon and a crowded audience favored the design of 
 the performer. But fate willed it otherwise. The 
 morrow came, the ship sailed, and I was once more 
 on my way to old England. 
 
 During the homeward voyage I had ample time to 
 sketch and determine my future course — to calculate 
 not only the money I had made, but what I intended 
 to make. Mark, reader ! I say determined, for I had 
 quite determined what my course should be. Well. 
 If we could only determine future events, what pretty 
 pictures — with the painters in the foreground — men 
 would make for themselves. Here is a rough out- 
 line of mine : — 
 
 Author, speculator, lecturer, and prospective career 
 painter of figure Number One fairly at sea — great 
 contrast between past excitement and present quiet. 
 Discover that a feverish pulse and champagne have 
 not been conducive to health, and that the improved 
 
360 number one; or, 
 
 state of the body, occasioned by a voyage to the 
 golden region, has been entirely dissipated by a brief 
 residence in the region itself. Hope for a renewal 
 of physical vigor from the homeward passage — 
 while present lassitude is made light by the weighty 
 presence of its compensating cause. Spirits com- 
 pletely revive on taking a retrospective view of the 
 small means by which great results have been, and 
 greater still are expected to be accomplished. Rule 
 for the attainment of the desired end is simple as 
 A, B, C : — for as the commercial application of four 
 hundred pounds has produced the sum of two thousand, 
 two thousand, worked by the same process, ought 
 to yield the sum of ten thousand! The thing itself 
 appears as clear and almost as grand as the majestic 
 ocean beneath — which has only to be crossed and re- 
 crossed, in order to realize the design of one whom it 
 nobly bears towards the glittering object in view. 
 Ten thousand pounds ! Could anything be better 
 for him who never longed for an independent incom 
 of more than four or five hundred a-year? The 
 thing's settled ! Another voyage round the world, 
 and the subsequent retirement of the voyager to a 
 pretty country retreat, must bring peace and plenty 
 to one who will then have liberty and leisure to enjoy 
 capon and claret, and to write books for amusement, 
 instead of for pork chops and porter. 
 
 Such is an outline of what was intended. The 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOKLD. 361 
 
 result of an endeavour to embody what was intended 
 will soon be made apparent. Ere now, 
 
 " Men have been raised to wealth, at Fortune's call, 
 And, by their fickle mistress, doomed to fall." 
 
 For, as the same writer says, 
 
 11 A bag of gold, by patient labor gained, 
 Is often by a prudent hand retained ; 
 But lucre won by hazard or by art, 
 By kindred instruments may soon depart." 
 
 On arriving in England I made immediate prepara- 
 tions for leaving again at the earliest possible period. 
 Ample aid was at hand to facilitate my arrangements. 
 There was no scarcity either of labor or of merchan- 
 dise — no difficulty, like that in Australia, of obtaining 
 an abundant supply of both. The countries, like the 
 markets, were the opposite of each other. In the one 
 I had been besieged by eager purchasers; in the 
 other I was now surrounded by eager sellers. At 
 the Antipodes buyers wanted more than I had to sell; 
 in England sellers wanted me to buy more than I had 
 money to pay for. Attentive warehousemen soon 
 enabled me to reach the full extent of my means, but 
 they lacked the persuasive eloquence to make me go 
 beyond. Why ? I knew, if I were to lose all I had, 
 it would all be my own loss. This knowledge made 
 me not only independent, but comparatively happy 
 in the prosecution of my second antipodal venture. 
 
36£ dumber o>~e; or, 
 
 But there were other trusts that caused the trustee 
 some anxiety. The chief of these gave me greater 
 concern than any which arose from my own specu- 
 lation. 
 
 Out of a goodly number o£ persons bearing the 
 name of friend, I had — and still, I believe, have — one 
 real one. The possession of such a treasure may, and 
 does sometimes involve a little responsibility — the 
 solicitude for the preservation of the jewel being in 
 proportion to its value in the heart by which it is 
 worn. Well. My friend wished me to undertake a 
 small commission that might prove of benefit to both. 
 I say both, because it is impossible, where true friend- 
 ship exists, for one branch to benefit another and 
 itself not participate in the benefit conferred. At 
 the request and in behalf of my friend, I took charge 
 of a shipment of merchandise of the value of about 
 four hundred pounds. I undertook this charge, with 
 the hope of converting my friend's goods into a 
 goodly number of " nuggets.-" These, according to 
 the time occupied by my first expedition, would be 
 returnable in England, and to the hands of the specu- 
 lator, in about nine months. At present there was 
 every prospect that the object in view would be thus 
 speedily attained. But as nothing — at least of man's 
 design — is absolutely certain that is not already ac- 
 complished, I felt more concerned for my friend than 
 for myself. Although, like me, he had made a specu- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 303 
 
 lative throw, and would have to abide the hazard of 
 the die, the monetary responsibility I had undertaken, 
 though smaller in amount, was far greater in its con- 
 sequences than my own. Still, there was no help for 
 it. I had a friend, and this anxiety on his behalf was 
 only a natural sign that there existed, on my part, 
 some little knowledge of the fact. 
 
 The following remarkable letter (translated) has 
 already appeared in my work on Australia. It is 
 re-produced here, not because many eminent men 
 have pronounced it a master-piece in its way, but 
 because the persecutions which gave rise to the docu- 
 ment are still in force, and still disgrace the Austra- 
 lian colonies. At this present writing no Chinese 
 immigrant can enter either Victoria, New South 
 wales, or South Australia without being subject to 
 the barbarous indignity of paying a tax of £10 for 
 the admittance of his own head into a christian 
 country ! Let England, the boasted land of civili- 
 zation and personal freedom, answer the following 
 question : — If any of your free-born British subjects 
 on entering a foreign land — even that flowery empire 
 into which you have recently forced an entrance — 
 had their own bodies taxed like so many barrels of 
 beef or bales of merchandise, what would be the effect 
 thereof on your people and your press ? In England 
 there can be but one answer to such a question. The 
 public voice would at once demand a removal — either 
 
364 number one; or, 
 
 by diplomacy or cannon balls — of so monstrous a check 
 to the free intercourse of nations. Unfortunately, it 
 is not thus in Australia. Political wisdom and justice 
 are not so far advanced, or, at least, not so generally- 
 adopted at the Antipodes as in the mother country. 
 By legislative enactment — enforced by the prejudiced 
 and illiterate part of the populace — Australian legis- 
 lators have thought fit to deny to an unoffending 
 people a right which they themselves claim and pos- 
 sess on Chinese territory, as in every other land 
 throughout the civilized globe. 
 
 ''SPEECH OF QUANG CHEW, 
 
 "LATELY AEEIVED, A MAX, BEING GOOD IN HIS EEASON AND 
 AFFECTIONS, AND EIFTH COUSIN OF THE MANDAEIN TA QUANG 
 TSENG LOO, "WHO POSSESSES MANY GAEDENS NEAE MACAO. 
 
 " Kind people of the gold- enticing country ! — I, a man of 
 some years beyond the rest of us Chinese who have recently 
 disembarked upon the hospitable shores of your yellow fields ; 
 also a man, wishing very humbly to express the gratitude of 
 his heart, and of all those who accompany him, or who have 
 gone before us, not forgetting all those who are humbly on 
 the way ; I, being, moreover, a man of moderation and cau- 
 tious judgment, even after looking on both sides of the bridge, 
 according to the wise laws and advice of Cung Foo T'see, and 
 Lao Shang, cannot but give words to my surprise at some of 
 the roughly-split and knotty bamboos which, as we are in- 
 formed by the tongue of our interpreter, Atchai, have been 
 swung threateningly above the shoulders of all the golden sea- 
 crossing people of the Central Flowery Empire, our much 
 beloved and distant native land. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 365 
 
 " Man being subject to many changes and dark clouds, must 
 submit with, resignation. Man must be patient and likewise 
 exceedingly respectful. All good laws teach this; and all 
 dutiful Chinese reverence the laws, because they are the finest 
 flowers and fruits which the heavenly sun extracts from the 
 roots of wisdom. Therefore man must always bow before his 
 governors and superiors, because they are the roots of wisdom. 
 With all becoming ceremonies we wish to approach and bow 
 before the governor of this town. 
 
 " But in what thing have we, the Chinese, humbly landing 
 on your delightful shores, given just cause of offence ? That 
 is what I am desirous to know. "We wish to be made sensible. 
 Man at all times needs instruction, and particularly when he 
 arrives in a foreign land. Our interpreter Atchai would not 
 deceive us. Atchai is a respectable young man, formerly one 
 of the agents of Howqua and Mowqua, merchants in tea; 
 but Atchai may have made some mistake in your words, and 
 in the characters he placed before us as representing your 
 words. This is my opinion. It is also the opinion of Ayung 
 Fi, a man of extensive judgment, and one of the principal 
 tailors of Canton. I will say more. Ayung thinks Atchai 
 has made a bad looking-glass. 
 
 11 Understanding, by the assurances of many respectable 
 people in our own country, and additionally convinced by 
 others who had voyaged to this land, and returned to the 
 Central Flowery Empire, that, not only do the people of Eng- 
 land come here, but the people of India, and Japan, and 
 America, and also from French lands, and other places ; and 
 having been informed that there were no people of any country 
 who were excluded, and that all those people were even wel- 
 comed with both hands, and the sound of triangles and kettles 
 [meaning drums], who came from civilized places, where the 
 arts and other useful labors were studied from the wisest 
 
366 number one; or, 
 
 and most ancient traditions, and were industriously cultivated ; 
 now, therefore, in all reverence, and with every proper cere- 
 mony, I, the speaker of this, Quang Chew, a very humble 
 man, but having reason, do not think it will justly balance 
 in your wise governor's hand, when bitter and unfruitful 
 counsellors [more literally, mandarins made of orange-peel] 
 propose that all nations shall be welcome here, excepting the 
 Chinese. I appeal to you all, diversified people of the gold- 
 enticing country, if this would not be a hard-grained and 
 distorted proceeding ? At the thought of being sent home 
 with disgrace, and for no wrong done, we blush, though 
 innocent, we tremble excessively, though free from guilt. 
 
 " Among our numbers we have men well skilled in gar- 
 dening, and the cultivation of all sorts of fruits and flowers ; 
 likewise carpenters, and workers in fine wood, and in ivory, 
 which we hear abounds in your forests ; also cunning agricul- 
 turists, who know how to manage the worst as well as the best 
 soils, particularly Leu Lee, and his five nephews ; also many 
 excellent cooks who would allow nothing to be wasted ; more- 
 over, we have lock makers, and toy makers, and many um- 
 brella makers, and carvers of fans and chessmen, and some 
 who make musical instruments, which others can play. "SVhy 
 should all these things be sent back with disgrace ? 
 
 "If it has, unfortunately, happened that any among our 
 people, through ignorance of your laws, have committed any 
 offences, let them suffer the punishment awarded, and due to 
 ignorance. Man must be instructed, either by wise precepts, 
 or by punishment. That is all I shall say in this matter. 1 
 But it is necessary that I should speak about gold. 
 
 " Thinking very considerably on the subject, I can see very 
 surely that it is not every man who can find much gold. 
 Some, indeed, will find none at all. These poor men will need 
 to live upon the labor of others, who will not be pleased with 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 367 
 
 that arrangement. Therefore, these poor men will return to 
 this town, and to all your smaller towns, and villages, and 
 Tillas, and farms, and sell their skill and their services in 
 their several ways for a little money, and perhaps rice. Why 
 should all our gardeners, and cooks, be driven away in scorn, 
 when they might be of great use to many others, if allowed 
 to remain here ? 
 
 " I will propose one thing in particular. Being aware that 
 the governors of this place are always chosen as being most 
 eminent in wisdom ; also being well informed of the great 
 extent of lands in the distant regions beyond the town, and 
 that the greatest part of those lands have never been culti- 
 vated ; I, the speaker of this, Quang Chew, an humble man, 
 but having some little sense, feel very certain that most of 
 those men of different countries who have found much gold, 
 have purchased land from the governor of the soil, Man 
 delights in having land, and also in orchards and gardens, and 
 prosperous farms. If, then, these places have not been cul- 
 tivated, it is because those who have bought, or perhaps been 
 presented with all these small farms and fields, for good 
 conduct, by your generous and rational governor, are men 
 accustomed only to dig for gold, and not to till the soil, or else 
 not numerous enough for the work of cultivation. Perhaps, 
 also, not being cunning in those labors. 
 
 "If this speech have any reason in it, I know it will be 
 heard with a close ear, and the head leaning on one side ; and 
 I most anxiously hope that the governor of this town, and all 
 the towns and lands beyond, will condescend to weigh and 
 measure, and reflect a little upon my words ; in the belief of 
 which, with all humbleness of heart, and respectful ceremonies, 
 we await in silence, the vermilion- colored reply." 
 
 By the following letter (or that portion thereof 
 
368 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 that applies to the Chinese subject) which appears in 
 the Times of this day— 20th February, 1862— it will 
 be seen that there is not much prospect of the repeal 
 of the odious tax previously referred to. 
 
 "to the editoe of the 'times.' 
 
 •< Sir, — I observe in one or two leading articles in your 
 journal you greatly misrepresent the state of matters in 
 Australia. 
 
 "Our opinions are very decided about the Chinese, based 
 as they are upon reasons and our own safety and ascendency, 
 and any attempt on the part of England to interfere will 
 alienate us to a man and place us in determined hostility to a 
 country which every consideration should always lead us to 
 regard with unalterable affection. 
 
 1 • I am, Sir, yours very respectfully, 
 
 "DAYID BUCHANAN. 
 " Legislative Assembly, Sidney, 
 Dec. 19th, 1861." 
 
 This epistle needs no comment. Its high and 
 mighty, yet daring and tear-my-eoat tone is a pretty 
 sure indication that the writer and his followers are 
 not open to any reason but their own. But it is only 
 fair towards the more reasonable, and therefore more 
 sensible portion of the Australian community to give 
 place to the following protest which was adopted in 
 the shape of a resolution by the Melbourne Chamber 
 of Commerce at the time when I last visited the 
 colony. 
 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 369 
 
 " That in the opinion of this Chamber, it is contrary to the 
 spirit of the age, opposed to the interests of this colony, and 
 opposed to the treaty with China, to pass any law peculiarly 
 applicable to the prevention of the Chinese from landing in 
 this colony." 
 
 \Vhen my commercial arrangements were complete, 
 goods shipped, and the ship nearly ready for sea, the 
 recollection of what originally appeared a subject of 
 more importance than commerce suddenly flashed on 
 my mind. I remembered that the primary object of 
 my first visit to Australia was that of writing a 
 book. Though impressed with the full belief, and 
 inspired by a sincere hope that, on my second visit 
 to the Antipodes, the same money making cause for 
 the non-fulfilment of the literary part of my mission 
 would still exist, I considered that on this occasion the 
 double object might be accomplished — that after I 
 had made a fortune, I might, if only for amusement 
 attempt some description of the country in which so 
 sudden a fortune had been made. At present a few 
 hasty notes of an equally hasty visit to the diggings 
 comprised the only evidence — except the box of 
 gold that had just been converted into goods 
 for a second antipodal enteq^rise — of the fact 
 that I had seen anything of the country, for 
 a sight of which I had journeyed so far. Though 
 the heart was made buoyant by the knowledge 
 of what had been, and by the hope of what was 
 
 c c 
 
370 number one; or, 
 
 expected to be done in the way of money making, its 
 owner was not so entirely the slave of gold, as to lose 
 at once and for ever the taste that had before changed 
 a commercial into a literary life. No. I still desired 
 and intended to see something more both of the 
 country and people I had visited — not only of the 
 particular colony of Victoria, but other of the Austra- 
 lian Colonies — and to write and publish an account of 
 what I had seen. 
 
 Such was my intention. I intended to visit the 
 principal parts of the chief antipodal countries, and to 
 make a book after I had made a fortune. As a pre- 
 liminary step towards the attainment of this object, 
 and as the only means of obtaining correct statistical 
 information for the contemplated work, it was abso- 
 lutely necessary to get letters of introduction from 
 the highest official in England to the highest officials 
 at the Antipodes. At present the sovereign power 
 over those distant regions and the rulers thereof was 
 vested in Sir George Grey, the Secretary of State for 
 the Colonies. Could I obtain the required letters 
 from Sir George — a man to whom I was an entire 
 stranger ? Impossible. So I was told. But people 
 who always believe, or are only guided by what they 
 are told, seldom accomplish anything. I had seen so 
 many seeming impossibilities surmounted by others 
 that I was not in this instance to be frightened from 
 action by the friendly assurance of " you'll not sue- 
 
THE WAY OP THE WORLD. 371 
 
 ceed/' nor was I to be deterred from a bold step by 
 the equally friendly advice of " don't try." 
 
 From early experience in the way of the world, I knew 
 that as a rule, letters of introduction from inferior to 
 superior officers were worthless pieces of paper, while 
 those from friend to friend of corresponding rank often 
 prove equally useless to the bearer. But a note from 
 a superior officer to a dependant is a very different 
 thing. This commands attention, while the former, 
 in some cases, barely insure civility. Wishing to 
 take my cards — if I took any — direct from the foun- 
 tain head, I communicated to Sir George Grey my 
 desire on the subject. The application was accom- 
 panied by some three or four letters to prove the 
 respectability of the applicant, and by a copy of my 
 last work, which had passed through several editions. 
 I soon received a polite answer to the effect that Sir 
 George Grey was satisfied of my respectability, but 
 could not on that account alone give me letters of 
 introduction to the governors of our colonial posses- 
 sions. If, however, evidence of jjosition in addition 
 to that of respectability could be furnished, such as 
 a letter from the banker of the applicant, together 
 with a reference to some one personally known to Sir 
 George, the letters of introduction applied for would 
 be cheerfully given. 
 
 " Letter from my banker ! " Now, let me tell 
 you, reader, it is a fine thing to have a banker, and a 
 
372 NUMBER ONBj OE, 
 
 still finer thing to have " a friend at court." So far 
 as my own account was concerned, my banker was 
 only three months old. What of that ? Was not 
 " my banker " a living reality ? During the brief 
 space of three months — thanks to my colonial specu- 
 lation — I had paid through this monetary channel 
 between two and three thousand pounds. For com- 
 mercial purposes, a connexion of longer standing 
 would no doubt have been more effective. But, had 
 my banker been an old friend, or his bank coined for 
 the occasion, the institution could not have been 
 better adapted to the purpose for which it was now 
 required. As for the second thing needful, a reference 
 to some one personally known to Sir George — this 
 requisition could be easily complied with. Mr. 
 Macaulay (afterwards Lord Macaulay), or some other 
 eminent writer who had taken an interest in the only 
 work I ever wrote that didn't sell — a book of poems 
 — would, no doubt, say all that was necessary. That 
 every requirement was eventually fulfilled to the 
 satisfaction of the Secretary of State for the Colonies 
 may be seen by the following epistle, in the original 
 of which was conveyed the hoped for response to my 
 wishes : — 
 
 "Downing Street, December 29th. 
 "Sie, 
 "I am directed by Sir George Grey to forward you the 
 enclosed letters of introduction to the Governors of Victoria, 
 
TRE WAT! OF THE WORLD. 373 
 
 >~ew South Wales, Tan Dienian's Land, and Xew Zealand, 
 in compliance with the request contained in your letter of the 
 19th instant. 
 
 u I am, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 (Signed) " SAM. TTHIIBEEAD. 
 < : To , Esq." 
 
 I was now fully charged and again ready to start 
 on my half-literary, half-commercial enterprise. With 
 letters of introduction to the governors of four 
 colonies, there could be no doubt about my obtain- 
 ing readv access to the state papers necessary for 
 the compilation of statistics for my literary work. 
 And with a stock of merchandise, to the value of 
 about two thousand pounds, I was likewise hopeful 
 of finding, as I had previously found, that to the 
 pockets and favorable opinions of the colonists access 
 would be equally easy. 
 
 Once more beating down channel against a head 
 wind — which some of the sailors attributed to our 
 navinc " sailed on a Fridav ; ' — we onlv awaited a 
 favorable change of the elements, in order to skim 
 the ocean with cheerful hearts, a full cargo, agreeable 
 passengers, an able commander, and a gallant crew, 
 towards that haven at the opposite side of the globe 
 which, it was hoped, would be safely reached in 
 something less than ninety days. The captain of 
 the ship predicted a fine passage. But the passengers 
 
374 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 subsequently discovered that the captain was not in 
 this instance a true prophet. 
 
 " Poor wanderers of a stormy day, 
 From wave to wave we're driven, 
 And fancy's flash and reason's ray 
 Serve but to light the troubled way, — 
 
 There's nothing calm but Heaven! " — Moore. 
 
THE TIDE HAS FLOATED.— IT NOW EBBS. 
 
What an unpleasant tiling it is to be losing money. 
 Look at this picture, as you have already looked 
 on that. I have just given, from personal experience, 
 a few dashes from the pen of one who found it a 
 very pleasant thing to be making money. A regard 
 for truth, rather than the love of an altered position, 
 now compels me to sketch the opposite of a pleasing 
 picture. 
 
 After a tedious and tempestuous passage of nearly 
 four months' duration, here I am at the golden region, 
 located at the same hotel at which I was lodged 
 twelve months ago. But in the interval there has 
 been a commercial revolution. Never was change 
 more sudden or complete. Instead of Hobson's Bay 
 bearing on the surface of its waters a few straggling 
 ships, each alike without either goods or crew, those 
 waters are now studded by a prodigious fleet of 
 merchantmen, among which might be seen a flag 
 from almost every nation but that of Russia. From 
 this imposing array of floating warehouses, inland 
 store-rooms, shops, wooden huts, and even diggers' 
 tents have been, or are being filled to overflowing. 
 Instead of ten buyers to one seller, as heretofore, 
 there are now ten sellers to one buyer. It looks for 
 
378 number oxe; cm, 
 
 all the world, as if London, [Manchester, Birmingham, 
 and Glasgow had, by some extraordinary agency, 
 shot their entire stock both of things wearable, ser- 
 viceable, and eatable on the opposite side of the globe, 
 without sending the necessary stock of human beings 
 to buy, wear, or swallow their commodities. Instead 
 of the demand for goods being greater than the 
 supply, the supply is now ten times greater than the 
 demand. 
 
 Like some poor distracted spirit that bears daily 
 torment from toothache, rather than submit to that 
 momentary operation which would bring the wished- 
 for sound of " it's all over," I lacked courage to take 
 my little stock of merchandise — the very eye-tooth 
 of dearly-cherished hopes — to the dreaded slaughter- 
 house of colonial skill. But a month's hesitation 
 convinced me there was no chance of obtaining relief 
 under the fallacious hope that the commercial disease 
 would cure itself. Every tide brought fresh cargoes 
 of evidence that delay would only make more painful 
 the approaching sacrifice of my two thousand guinea 
 enterprise. Gaining wisdom by experience, and see- 
 ing that I had already wasted thirty days, and a far 
 greater number of guineas, in hoping for improve- 
 ment where there was no hope, I now resolved to 
 close the business in hand — one which could not be 
 mproved by keeping open. Acting on this resolve, 
 I desired my agent to " sell," and (to use a not very 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 379 
 
 classical expression) I may observe that the gentle- 
 man did sell, and a pretty " sett" it was; for not only 
 were the goods sold, but the owner also. Enough. 
 "Without troubling the reader with the details of this 
 unfortunate speculation, I will merely add that after 
 the auctioneer's hammer had sacrificed my commer- 
 cial enterprise, and the auctioneer had deducted from 
 the result of the operation the very moderate expenses 
 involved in the destruction, I received from the effects 
 of the same a little more than enough money to take 
 me on my contemplated tour through the colonies, 
 and to cover the cost of my passage to England. 
 
 Consolation, when sought, may be found under 
 any and every trouble. In the present instance, I 
 consoled myself with the balm of the Irishman who 
 said, " after I had been killed by the enemy I had the 
 satisfaction of saving my friend." Though not gifted 
 with the supernatural power of Doctor O'Toole, I 
 derived considerable pleasure from the simple know- 
 ledge of having, as I thought, saved not the person, 
 but the property of a valued friend from almost total 
 destruction. The sale of my own stock had entailed 
 a loss to its owner of about seventy per cent. But I 
 had managed to make better terms for the disposal 
 of goods which were not mine. As previously stated, 
 a gentleman whom I regarded as a real friend had 
 consigned to my care, for sale on his behalf, merchan- 
 dise to the value of about four hundred pounds. For 
 
330 
 
 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 these goods I succeeded in finding a firm by whom 
 the entire lot was taken at a discount of about 
 twenty-five per cent, — the purchase money to be paid 
 in cash within thirty days, or one month after the 
 goods had been delivered to the purchasers. The 
 delivery was duly made to one of the largest, and — 
 so I was informed — one of the first houses of its class 
 in Melbourne, and I was pleased at having effected a 
 sale which would not entail on an absent friend a loss 
 of such magnitude as that which I had myself suffered 
 at the hands of the most merciless of commercial 
 knackers. 
 
 Alas, for the sandy groundwork of human calcula- 
 tions ! The little pleasure arising from my hope of 
 the structure I had just built, like the building itself, 
 had but a brief existence. Before the expiration of a 
 month, consequently before the arrival of the day on 
 which I was to have received payment for the goods 
 that had been intrusted to my care, the purchasers 
 failed. By other houses this house had just been de- 
 clared " one of the very first of its class." Therefore, 
 either the class itself, or the declaration of the class 
 to which it belonged, must have been altogether bad. 
 After wasting about twenty pounds in a fruitless 
 endeavour to obtain from these fraudulent dealers 
 either goods or money, I took my final departure 
 from the city. But I took nothing — not a shilling — 
 for that valued friend who no doubt expected to 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 3 SI 
 
 receive for his four hundred guinea venture a weighty 
 box of Australian treasure. 
 
 This loss was the heaviest blow of all. I was 
 sorely grieved that the last and only ray of hope in 
 an unfortunate speculation was thus entirely extin- 
 guished. But after the first severe shock, I found 
 consolation even under this the most painful of all 
 blows — which was a thrust direct at the heart. A 
 little quiet thought, followed by a reflex of what I 
 had seen in the way of the world convinced me that 
 there is nothing like a monetary test for proving real 
 or counterfeit friendship. Men seldom relinquish 
 their claim to the — often unmerited — name of friend, 
 so long as there is anything to gain or nothing to 
 lose by the title. But a good pull or even an at- 
 tempted pull at the pocket seldom fails to draw the 
 curtain from the heart, and to reveal a friend in his 
 true colors. I required no such test applied to one 
 whom I knew — so far as human sagacity can know — 
 to be genuine. But the proof was now an unavoid- 
 able necessity. In a future chapter a single sentence 
 will give the result of its application. 
 
 The loss from my own speculation ceased to be a 
 serious matter, so soon as the business in which it 
 originated was at an end. It failed to inflict on its 
 victim that fretful wound which causes subsequent 
 trouble or pain. I was again free and comparatively 
 easy — like a late sufferer from toothache, whose tor- 
 
382 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 mentor had just been removed. My weaknesses, 
 though great and many, have never had among their 
 number the following little one — that of repining, 
 or of regretting the impossibility of being unable to 
 recall what is beyond human reach. I have always 
 had in this poor mortal frame enough — though but 
 one little drop — of the spirit of philosophy to prevent 
 the folly of wishing to bring back yesterday. I never 
 gave way to saying or thinking " if I had not done so 
 and so," or " if I had not lost so much, I should have 
 been so much better off," or " what a fool I was to 
 do as I did," and so on. Knowing these lamenta- 
 tions to be, if not a fatal barrier to present action, 
 at least a serious drag on a desire to do better in the 
 future than has been done in the past, I never gave 
 audience to such dismal reflections. Had I done so, 
 I mio-ht often have been overwhelmed with trouble 
 instead of being comparatively happy. 
 
 Now that my pretty pair of colonial speculations 
 — like the " nuggets " made by the first and lost by 
 the second — were numbered with things of the past, 
 I returned to the point from which I had been 
 enticed by the alluring sweets of sudden gain. Now 
 that eighteen months had been wasted, half of which 
 had been spent in making money and the other half 
 in losing it, I retraced my steps, though the time lost 
 could not be recalled, by returning to the position 
 and occupation I had so hastily and so unwisely 
 
THE WAY OP THE WORLD. 383 
 
 abandoned. Now that — contrary to expectation — 
 I had failed to make a fortune in the golden region, 
 I started on my original design, and began to make 
 a book descriptive of the region itself. 
 
 And let me tell you, my literary readers — if I have 
 any — you who are wont to charm and elevate other 
 imaginations by lofty flights from your own — how- 
 ever faithful may be your ideal pictures of pleasure 
 or pain, there is nothing like a prick from the weapon 
 of a wasp for a life-like exposition of its stiog. 
 Here is a brief extract, the only one that will be 
 given, from the work on which I entered immediately 
 after I had emerged from the scene described : — 
 
 " Melbourne, at present, is a kind of modern Babel 
 — a little hell upon earth — a city of rioters, cut- 
 throats, gamblers, and drunkards — a crowded den of 
 human iniquity — where, from the highest merchants 
 downward, there appears to be but one object in view 
 — where the very faculties of mind, body, and soul, 
 are employed and directed to one worldy end — 
 where thousands are anxiously and almost ex- 
 clusively bent towards the consummation of their 
 own selfish desires — where calm reflection and all 
 the higher attributes of the mind lose their pro- 
 per influence in artificial excitement — where the 
 ties of friendship, domestic duties, kindred obliga- 
 tions, intellectual study, and the immortal spirit of 
 true religion are often neglected, if not entirely for- 
 
384 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 gotten in the busy work of self-aggrandizement — 
 where, in fine, the priceless possessions of health, 
 together with all those sweet enjoyments which con- 
 stitute the real happiness of life, fall a sacrifice to an 
 insatiable thirst for gain." 
 
 The truth of the sketch, of which the foregoing is 
 but a small portion, has never been questioned — not 
 even by the actors in the fearful drama. But was I 
 not one, though a minor one, of the characters ? In 
 this scene of commercial gambling had I not played, 
 and — had success attended my second appearance on 
 the stage — might I not have continued to play a 
 part? Be this as it may, I did not, in my first 
 venture, object to share the spoil of the speculators, 
 though I joined them not in their drunken gambols. 
 Like one who secretly and silently contributes to a 
 dangerous agitation, I had no cause for complaint 
 till my own fingers had been burnt by the very fire 
 I had kindled. Is such the way of the world ? Is 
 it thus in each overgrown garden of corruption men 
 are ready to pick up for themselves fruit from the 
 very paths they condemn ? The preceding pages 
 have already recorded that such — at least, for eighteen 
 months of my career — had been the case with me? 
 As a sort of justification for a false step, people often 
 endeavour to prove that other people are equally fool- 
 ish. Whatever the object in the present instance, 
 I will simply observe that in a future part of this 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 3S5 
 
 work the reader may observe that Australia is not 
 the only country, nor the writer the only individual, 
 of which positive proof will be given concerning 
 similar or perhaps greater strides for gold on the 
 part of number one. 
 
 I will not now tire the reader with a long account 
 of my many u hairbreadth 'scapes " during a tour 
 through the civilized and uncivilized, the inhabited 
 and uninhabited parts of the colonies. Neither will 
 it be necessary to attempt an elaborate description of 
 persons and places, of countries and communities, 
 which of late years have formed subjects for so many 
 pens — some accounts, let me add, by penmen who 
 have furnished the world with highly-finished, if not 
 strikingly faithful pictures taken by artists at a dis- 
 tance of sixteen thousand miles from the localities 
 and objects represented. A few sketches however of 
 those distant regions have been the result of personal 
 observation. Among the small number of these my 
 own feeble one forms an unit. That book — so far as 
 sale is concerned — proved one of the most successful 
 of my works. To this I may perhaps briefly refer 
 hereafter. As the social aspect of Australia is at 
 present very different to what it was in 1S52-3, I v ill 
 not now dwell on abominations which have in a great 
 measure, if not entirely ceased to exist. But there is 
 a colony with which the general reader may be less 
 familiar. The natural advantages rather than the 
 
 D D 
 
386 NUMBER OXEj OK, 
 
 mineral riches — though these are of considerable 
 extent — of that colony may justify a few passing 
 remarks. Everybody has either heard a good deal or 
 read a good deal about Australia. But it is not 
 everybody that has heard so much or read so much 
 about New Zealand — at least not from one who has 
 personally explored that distant region. 
 
 In 1S55 the European population of New Zealand 
 was only about 60,000. At present it is probably 
 rather under than over 120,000, while the territorial 
 extent of the country is somewhat greater than that 
 of Great Britain and Ireland, or only 50,000 acres 
 less than the whole of Great Britain and Ireland, 
 with all the adjacent isles — as New Zealand contains 
 78,300,480 acres. 
 
 Here, then, is one of the finest colonies, if not the 
 finest colony in the world, with a population smaller 
 than that of a good-sized English town, and with 
 square acres as many as those of England, Ireland, 
 and Scotland together. The climate of the colony is 
 as superior to that of Australia as are the Z\Iaories or 
 natives of Xew Zealand compared with the emaciated 
 and inanimate aborigines of the golden region. In 
 Australia, however, the native race will soon become 
 extinct. Even the Maories of Xew Zealand — the 
 finest native race of darkies in the world — are^ de- 
 creasing in number every year, although the decrease 
 is much less rapid than with the Australian native. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 3S7 
 
 The present Maori population of Xew Zealand is 
 about 50,000. Like other native races in countries 
 where Europeans have permanently settled, the Xew 
 Zealanders will no doubt in the course of time — say 
 fifty or a hundred years — become nearly if not 
 entirely extinct. At present there is room to accom- 
 modate at least 25,000,000 European settlers, al- 
 though the colony does not contain the two hun- 
 dredth part of that number. 
 
 I once either read a prediction or heard it predicted 
 that " Xew Zealand would at some future period be- 
 come the Great Britain of the southern hemisphere." 
 Although I have but little faith in modem prophets 
 and prophecies, I confess myself sufficiently credulous 
 to accept and believe in the above prediction as an 
 exception to the rule. 
 
 Comparatively little known as she is at present, 
 Xew Zealand will, no doubt, some day become an 
 important and populous country, if not a great nation. 
 She has all the elements to warrant such an opinion 
 and to justify such a belief. W itli a fine, if not the 
 finest climate in the world, the colony has every cor- 
 responding advantage. Though she cannot, at present, 
 boast of extensive gold fields fully developed, like 
 those of Australia, a treasure more valuable and inex- 
 haustible may be found in the periodical riches of her 
 soil. 
 
 It would be foreign to the object of this work to 
 
NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 say more on a subject which I have previously de- 
 scribed in detail. In the few foregoing sentences will 
 be found the summary of my former opinion. That 
 opinion is unchanged. And if asked to name the 
 first colony in the southern hemisphere, as a desirable 
 home for the intending emigrant I should still with 
 the most impartial sincerity answer — New Zealand. 
 
 This opinion was arrived at after having visited 
 and personally inspected every province in the colony, 
 from Auckland to Otago. 
 
 Having completed my tour through, and taken 
 voluminous notes of the colonies of Australia, Tas- 
 mania and New Zealand, I now, like a tired and long 
 absent child, turned towards my own home in the 
 mother country — a country the beauties of which will 
 bear comparison with most countries, and a home the 
 comforts of which are unobtainable in any other part 
 of the world. 
 
 Before bidding a final farewell to the Antipodes, I 
 may just mention that during my tour through New 
 Zealand a presentation was made to me of a somewhat 
 singular character. But neither the singularity of the 
 gift nor the event in which it originated would alone 
 have justified an account of the affair by its present 
 recorder. The mere allusion to compliment of a 
 personal nature might in itself subject a writer, no 
 less than a speaker, to the charge of vanity. But 
 future reference which will be made to the following 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 3S9 
 
 incident — in the shape of a sequel to the story — may 
 disclose the real motive for its present revelation, the 
 chief object of which is to show that the leading 
 features in human nature — especially those noted 
 by Honest John — have a striking resemblance and 
 are in all respects very much the same all over the 
 world. 
 
 In a former chapter mention is already made of my 
 having at the close of my first visit to Australia 
 given a lecture with some success. Soon after this 
 the pleasure market, no less than other markets, 
 became glutted with all manner of subjects, and with 
 things both suited and unsuited to the particular 
 tastes of the community. Immediately on the 
 appearance of ballad singers, dancers, tumblers and 
 rope-walkers, each steady-going lecturer had to make 
 his final bow to a colonial audience. Everything was 
 changed. \Yhile a learned professor gave scientific 
 lectures, or lectures on scientific subjects to empty 
 benches, some clown from the ring at Astley's or 
 elsewhere drew large, if not fashionable audiences and 
 sixty pounds a week, as a reward for his services. 
 Finding matters thus, I abandoned all idea of another 
 attempt in the way of a poetical exposition — poetry 
 being now declared " dry and uninteresting." Th 
 evidence of the popular taste however, is merely 
 typical of the changes which of late years have 
 taken place in the mother country. At the present 
 
390 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 day, how many of the general public are there that 
 attend or care anything- about lectures on literary or 
 scientific subjects ? Let the secretaries of literary 
 institutions answer this question. In the absence of 
 such answer, that of one who has had some expe- 
 rience in the matter may suffice. There icas a time 
 when those lectures were attractive. That time is 
 past. A musical entertainment, or one in which the 
 entertainer personifies some sixty characters in as 
 many minutes never fails to draw the multitude, 
 while poetry never fails to keep the multitude away. 
 Some institutions have discovered this, and give their 
 members an occasional light dessert in place of the 
 more substantial repast. Others again are opposed to 
 all innovation. It is scarcely necessary to say which of 
 the two is in the best position to pay twenty shillings 
 in the pound. It is useless to attempt to cram the 
 public with poetry while the public taste lies in ano- 
 ther direction. 
 
 At the time of my visit to New Zealand but few, 
 if any, out of the vast fleet of modern entertainers 
 had reached that remote region. Consequently the 
 few lectures and dramatic readings which I gave 
 during my tour through the colony were at least 
 liberally patronised, if they were not duly appreciated. 
 It was after the delivery of one of these lectures 
 that I received a note of which the following is a 
 copy :— 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 391 
 
 11 Xelson, February 18th. 
 
 " DEiJl SlE, 
 
 " Haying to make a communication -which may probably 
 proye to your advantage, may I request the honor of your 
 company at dinner to-morrovr at six o'clock? 
 
 " The fayor of an early reply will oblige, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 11 THOMAS . 
 
 " To ., Esq., Trafalgar Hotel." 
 
 " Something to my advantage ! " On reading that 
 part of the note, I felt as though a detective officer 
 had just conveyed the gentle hint of " take care of 
 your pockets." Even after the mysterious invitation 
 of Mr. Sharp, who feasted his guest much after the 
 fashion and with the view of " throwing a sprat to 
 catch a whale," I looked with grave suspicion on the 
 voluntary offer of a personal benefit from any person 
 who could have no interest — unless a selfish one — in 
 a stranger. But, putting aside the suspicious " some- 
 thing to the advantage " of the guest, I had no 
 objection to a good dinner, provided the host was " a 
 proper man." And hereupon I proceeded to make 
 enquiry on the subject, by ringing the bell and re- 
 questing, as a preliminary step, the presence of the 
 landlord of my hotel. 
 
 " Good morning, landlord. As you appear to 
 know most persons of importance in the town, may 
 I ask whether your knowledge extends to a gentle- 
 man of the name of Thomas ," 
 
392 NUMBER ONE j OR, 
 
 "Doctor you mean/' replied the landlord. 
 
 " Oh yes, know him quite well. Everybody knows 
 the doctor." 
 
 " Indeed ! But you don't say what everybody 
 knows about him, though your answer leaves ample 
 room for enquiry. You say he is well known j is he 
 equally respected? " 
 
 " I believe he is, too," said the landlord. "Not a 
 man in Nelson more respected than the doctor." 
 
 " Of course, then, he is what people call { well off/ 
 is he not ? " 
 
 " Rich as a Jew," was the reply. 
 
 " Married, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes — and to one as rich as himself." 
 
 "Any family?" 
 
 " I never heard of any but their broad acres." 
 
 " Do they keep much company? " 
 
 " I think not. The wife is a good-hearted though 
 rather peculiar sort of body — so the ladies say — but 
 the ladies, you know will talk, 'specially in small 
 places where they've only theirselves to talk about." 
 
 " Very true, landlord ; and I thank you for all this 
 information. Bv-the-bve, vou were good enough to 
 promise me some wild fowl on an early day. I shall 
 not dine at home to-morrow, but will gladly avail 
 myself of your offer on any other day during the 
 week. Good morning." 
 
 After the foregoing evidence, the reader will not 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 393 
 
 be surprised to hear that immediately on the land- 
 lord's departure, I wrote a note, accepting an invita- 
 tion to dine with one whom I had heard of but not 
 yet seen. Though still in a maze concerning the 
 object of that invitation, I had just been informed 
 that the author of it was universally respected and 
 was moreover " as rich as a Jew." Would any poor 
 man either on this or on the other side of the globe 
 have declined a summons so graciously worded? I 
 think not. The experience I had now had of the way 
 of the icorld made me doubt, even in this case, 
 whether I should find anything to " my advantage " 
 beyond a good dinner and good company. Still, 
 there was the daily recurring fact that in a strange 
 world strange things are for ever taking place, and 
 that every hour of man's existence supplies evidence 
 of some new mystery. 
 
 The day and the dinner hour arrived. On entering 
 the well-furnished, though not extensive villa of the 
 host, I was met and complimented both by the host 
 and hostess, who said they had already — at a distance 
 — derived much pleasure from my presence in the 
 lecture hall, having attended each of my dramatic 
 readings ; but they had now the additional pleasure 
 of receiving me as their guest. Hereupon I was in- 
 troduced to good company and to a good dinner ; and 
 the entire party afterwards enjoyed, or seemed to 
 enjoy an agreeable evening in the drawing-room. 
 
394 number one; or, 
 
 Not a whisper was heard — at least not by the prin- 
 cipal person concerned — of anything to " my advan- 
 tage " beyond what was then going on. But on 
 taking leave, the host accompanied me to the hall 
 door, wished me " God speed " on the homeward 
 voyage, and placed in my hand a huge envelope, the 
 contents of which he desired me to examine at my 
 leisure, or when I had nothing better to do. 
 
 It was somewhat past two o'clock when I reached 
 my hotel with the mysterious packet. Yet I found 
 leisure and had " nothing better to do " — before 
 saying prayers — than to examine and ruminate on 
 the contents of the monster envelope, which even 
 now failed to impress me with the belief that it would 
 disclose anything to " my advantage." At the 
 moment of breaking the seal, I expected to find 
 within nothing more than the MSS. of a prose or 
 poetical composition, founded on the life or death of 
 some favorite kitten, cousin, or native chief, aud pro- 
 bably dedicated to Frank Foster. In my editorial 
 capacity I had often received anonymous contributions 
 of poetry and prose — why not one duly authenticated ? 
 But in this case I mistook the character of the for- 
 midable document, for on withdrawing it from its 
 temporary hiding-place I found it clothed in legal 
 forms, duly supported by the well-known upright or 
 buckram style of letter and figure in which the hand 
 of a lawyer's clerk is at once visible. The document 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 305 
 
 was accompanied by the following note from the 
 
 gentleman by whom I had just been so liberally 
 
 entertained : — 
 
 " Nelson, February 19th. 
 "My deae See, 
 
 ' ' In company with a large number of the inhabitants of 
 Kelson, we have been highly pleased with your literary enter- 
 tainments. 
 
 " Mrs. R, desires to express, in something more than 
 
 words, the pleasure she has herself derived from those exhibi- 
 tions, by requesting your acceptance (in trust and for the 
 
 benefit of Miss ) of ten acres of land, the legal conveyance 
 
 of which is herewith enclosed. 
 
 u Wishing you a speedy, safe, and pleasant passage to 
 England, believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 1 ' Yours faithfully, 
 " To Esq., Trafalgar Hotel." " THOMAS . 
 
 Ten acres of land. A present ! not to me, but to a 
 young lady in England whom the donor had never 
 seen. The affair was in every way a mysterious if 
 not a romantic one. Had the lady presented me 
 with ten ounces of gold, or ten ten-pound notes, a 
 diamong ring, an elephant's tusk, a silver snuff-box, 
 or any other convertible mark of her gracious favor, 
 the thinsr would have been a little more intelligible. 
 But as it now stood, and was likely to stand, — for 
 land is not a moveable commodity — the distant 
 owner, who was yet in blissful ignorance of her 
 little estate at the Antipodes, would probably never 
 see either the gift or the giver, though she would not 
 be able to think of the one and forget the other. 
 
396 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 On enquiry I was informed that the land, being in 
 the immediate district of a new township, would pro- 
 bably increase in value every year. With this in- 
 formation, and as trustee pro tern, of the singular 
 gift, I took my berth in a ship which, with fair winds, 
 fine weather, and the lapse of about three months, 
 would enable me, on the opposite side of the globe, to 
 present myself to, and surprise the young lady who, in 
 my absence, had become a landowner without purcliase. 
 
 With regard to the passage from New Zealand to 
 England, I will merely observe that a literary man 
 or anyone partial to writing has some little advantage 
 over those who lack profitable occupation for their 
 leisure hours during a long sea voyage. The majority 
 of passengers — when tired of the innocent amuse- 
 ments, or the gaming and expensive sports peculiar 
 to social life — tax their inventive faculties for some 
 new mode of " killing time." Authors, on the con- 
 trary, endeavour to preserve rather than to destroy 
 time — to make the present live in the future, rather 
 than to let it fly like a cloud, or drift down the ever- 
 fleeting quicksands of unrecorded moments in the past. 
 
 I will not dwell on the product of my own labor at 
 sea, beyond the simple statement that during this 
 my last voyage I put into proper shape and prepared 
 for press the notes on which my forthcoming work on 
 Australia, Tasmania, and New Zealand was founded, 
 and that during the preceding voyages I wrote three 
 dramas — a drama to each voyage. 
 
ANOTHER STAGE IN LIFE. 
 
Home. How delightful a tiling it is to return 
 home after a long absence — especially if that home 
 be a happy one. At this period I wa3 the welcomed 
 tenant, not only tenant but master of such a home. 
 
 Those readers who have followed me through the 
 previous stages of my career, and to whom the leading 
 incidents — one excepted — of that career have been 
 communicated, may now be surprised to learn that I 
 have a wife and three children ! But why has the 
 revelation of so important an event in one's life been 
 so long withheld, or when thus withheld, why now 
 disclosed ? Why burke the entire history of what to 
 the public is usually so interesting — first love, poetical 
 epistles, clandestine meetings and the final victory 
 under the sacred bond of matrimony? Was the 
 wooing less pregnant with romance or the wedding 
 with interest than other wooings and weddings with 
 which countless periodicals have been, and still are, 
 filled for the edification of countless readers ? Per- 
 haps so, or perhaps not. Yet, beyond that brief 
 reference to the domestic circle which is necessitated 
 by the presentation of a landed gift to my only 
 daughter, I should still have remained silent on the 
 subject of my own family, only that such silence 
 
400 number one; or, 
 
 might now be misconstrued. Therefore, in a single 
 sentence I will simply say, that my union was a 
 happy one, and that in my own family circle I have 
 ever derived, as I still derive, my greatest earthly 
 happiness. This book originated with a higher object 
 than that of publishing a mere rigmarole of private 
 affairs, however interesting such matters might be to 
 those immediately concerned. True, our own children 
 may be — at least in the eyes of their parents — very 
 superior to the children of other people, but will 
 other people, or other people's children believe any- 
 thing of the sort ? If so, I am taking incorrect 
 sketches both of our own way and of the icay of the 
 world. Therefore, though Miss J 's accomplish- 
 ments, Master H 's industry, or young B 's 
 
 love be great or little, the subject is one of greater 
 interest to themselves and to their parents than to 
 anybody else. 
 
 After placing before my little family circle a brief 
 resume of the many perils and few pleasures in my 
 antipodal adventure, and after putting my daughter 
 in possession of the deed by which she became the 
 owner of ten acres of land — to the giver of which 
 reference will be made in a future chapter — I pro- 
 ceeded to that friend who had unfortunately en- 
 trusted to my care goods to the amount of £400, for 
 which I had nothing but an account of their loss to 
 return. Yet, except the swindlers in Australia who 
 
THE WAY OF THE "WOULD. 401 
 
 had obtained possession of these goods, the original 
 owner was the only person who treated their loss 
 with levity. As he cordially shook me by the hand, 
 he declared, " my only trouble in the matter has 
 arisen from the knowledge that I have given you so 
 much trouble on my account." For once I felt I had 
 not been mistaken in my estimate of a man whom I 
 had long regarded as a friend. The reader ma}' 
 determine by one or two incidents in a future chapter 
 whether such estimate was a correct one. 
 
 Having thus returned from my antipodal mission 
 with a full heart and an empty purse, and having 
 sent to press a bundle of notes from which my future 
 literary work was to be composed, and having, more- 
 over, like the renowned Mother Hubbard, discovered 
 that our family " cupboard was bare," I began, with 
 anxious eye, to look around for some ready source 
 from which to furnish an indispensable domestic 
 store. Though a few lectures at various literary 
 institutions served as the means for the partial supply 
 of an immediate necessity, the revenue arising from 
 tins kind of occupation — unless such engagements 
 were extended to each night in the week — proved 
 but a beggarly pittance, after all, a something that 
 barely exceeded, if it equalled, the pay of a skilled 
 mechanic. But if u necessity is the mother of in- 
 vention," it likewise not rrnfrecjuently becomes the 
 parent of adoption or imitation. If, like a Go: 
 
 E E 
 
402 number one; or, 
 
 Tom Thumb, the adopted child should give early 
 promise of fame and fortune, hundreds of ready-made 
 guardians will be found both ready and willing to 
 father the " public pet." 
 
 It was just at this period that, at the Egyptian 
 Hall in Piccadilly, my friend Albert Smith was 
 making a more profitable and less arduous ascent of 
 a gigantic mountain than was ever before made by 
 traveller for the benefit of himself and the amuse- 
 ment of his patrons. He was not only drawing 
 nightly crowds of admiring spectators to witness his 
 graceful and easy "Ascent of Monfc Blanc," but by 
 his lecture and pictorial illustrations of the same he 
 was also drawing large sums of money from his 
 visitors' pockets into his own. Now, did anybody 
 ever make a " great hit " in the English metropolis, 
 either in the shape of an entertainment or any other 
 enterprise, without being almost immediately fol- 
 lowed by a whole host of imitators ? No sooner is 
 birth given to an original idea than countless out- 
 siders are ready and anxious to make capital out of 
 borrowed stock, by placing before the public what 
 often proves to be the mere effigy of another's 
 offspring. Was there ever a successful originator 
 without a large company of unsuccessful imitators ? 
 Never — at least not within range of my memory. 
 Although the actual ascent of the real mountain by 
 Mr. Smith prevented an imitation of his descriptive 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 403 
 
 " Ascent of Mont Blanc" by those who had never 
 journeyed fifty miles from home, nevertheless, the 
 success of his single-handed entertainment gave rise 
 to exhibitions and exhibitors without number, and, 
 it may be truly said, without vitality, as a vast majo- 
 rity of the same had but a very brief existence. 
 Though even' town in the kingdom was soon inun- 
 dated with drawing-room entertainments and enter- 
 tainers, every town in the kingdom soon allowed the 
 novelties to die a natural death. Mine might possibly 
 have shared a similar fate ; but, as will presently be 
 seen, it came to a premature end from other causes. 
 
 I will not attempt to conceal the fact that in the 
 success of " Mont Blanc " originated my own desire 
 to enter the public arena as a professional lecturer, 
 sanguine — like others — as I then was, of reaping a 
 rich reward for my labors. But while hoping to 
 derive benefit by the adoption of my friend's plan of 
 a single-handed entertainment, I, at the same time, 
 resolved that in all other respects novelty should 
 prevail, and that the exhibition, whatever its merits 
 or demerits, should at least bear evidence of origi- 
 nality. From an early period I had not only been 
 partial to, but had frequently taken an active part in 
 private theatricals. 
 
 Private theatricals ! Those of my readers who 
 have never witnessed the odd characters and strange 
 scenes which occasionally make up entertainments 
 
404 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 of this kind have but a faint notion either of the 
 performances, or of the irresistible merriment created 
 thereby. The mirth of the audience usually increases 
 with the seriousness of the play and the gravity of 
 the players. The frequent oral mistakes made by a 
 novice in some tragic part are often mere trifles to 
 the novelty of the action. AYhen he points to the 
 sky in addressing the boundless ocean, or to the 
 lower region in addressing the sun, it becomes pain- 
 fully, or rather amusingly apparent to the spectators, 
 that the particular part of Hamlet's address to the 
 players, in which he exhorts them to " suit the action 
 to the word and the word to the action " is entirely 
 neglected by the amateur before them. Sheridan's 
 amusing play of "The Critic; or, a Tragedy Re- 
 hearsed," was surely founded on amateur perform- 
 ances. Be this as it may, such performances served 
 as a foundation and furnished a portion of the 
 materials for my new entertainment of " Amateur 
 Authors and Actors ; or, an Evening at Home." In 
 writing the speeches, composing the songs, and ar- 
 ranging the parts of this intended exhibition, in 
 which many of the most ludicrous scenes in amateur 
 acting and singing were introduced, I worked almost 
 night and day for nearly four months. 
 
 I verily believe that where one public character 
 dies a natural death, five at least kill themselves by 
 excitement — that is, that five out of every six whose 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 405 
 
 means of living depend on exciting or artificial 
 action either become prematurely old, or die before 
 reaching an advanced age. Let our physical laborers 
 work as hard as they may, our intellectual slaves 
 work still harder, while the wear and tear of the 
 brain-driver greatly exceed that of the mechanic. 
 How many promising intellects, like worm-eaten 
 fruit, have kissed their mother earth before reaching 
 maturity? I have marked the untimely fall of a 
 large number. I can count many late acquaintances 
 who, in early manhood, worked themselves to death. 
 My friend Albert Smith might be named as one 
 among a host of others. He was usually the lion of 
 an evening party. His genial disposition and affable 
 manners made him as popular in private as in public 
 society. But the excitement arising from that popu- 
 larity was the bane of the noble spirit it had reared. 
 The man was unable to live without excitement, yet 
 excitement proved fatal to his existence. Temperate 
 in all things else, he had no moderation in one thing 
 — an exuberant fancy. With the effervescence of 
 this fancy he was ever intoxicated — an intoxication 
 not less injurious to the body than the more debasing 
 one arising from strong drinks. The last time I met 
 him was at a large party. Here he was all grace and 
 gaiety till an advanced hour in the morning, though 
 he was announced to give his popular lecture twice on 
 the same day. This induced a gentleman at the soiree 
 
406 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 to remark, " Smith will surely kill himself/ ' The truth 
 of the prophecy is unfortunately too well known. 
 
 Well. Did anything I had seen of danger, as 
 affecting others, deter me from entering on a dan- 
 gerous course ? Nothing of the sort. I had tasted 
 public applause and liked it. The business in hand 
 was not only agreeable to the taste, but promised 
 to be remunerative. Though the bodily frame be- 
 trayed unmistakable symptoms of weakness, it was 
 supported by the hope of pleasure and profit. 
 Launched on the silvery stream of gain, who would 
 dream of danger — even though a buoyant spirit 
 should all the while be nearing the rapids of de- 
 struction ? My new entertainment had already been 
 tried on one of the side channels to public favor. 
 The trial took place at the Royal Polytechnic Insti- 
 tution. The lecture theatre was full on the occasion, 
 and the exhibition was successful. Like the incipient 
 stage of an incurable malady, that success proved the 
 first step to my final downfall. But, while I saw 
 fortune smile before me, I did not for a moment 
 suppose that her elder sister, *ms-fortune, was close 
 at my heels. Therefore extensive preparations were 
 at once made both for a London season and a pro- 
 vincial tour, and the Queen's Concert Room, Hanover 
 Square, was engaged as the grand starting point. 
 To an eminent artist I paid ten guineas each for 
 drawings (on stone) of the leading characters in my 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 407 
 
 entertainment. Posters, hand-bills, and programmes 
 were struck off bv thousands, and everything was 
 done and everybody, from bill-stickers to monev- 
 takers, engaged to carry into effect the most beautiful 
 arrangements that were ever completed for making a 
 rapid and handsome independence. 
 
 As the time for making my first appearance in 
 Hanover Square drew near my bodily strength had 
 diminished rather than increased. On the day pre- 
 ceding the entertainment I was so unwell that, by 
 the advice of friends, I prepared for press the draft of 
 an advertisement in which the postponement of the 
 exhibition was to have been announced. But on the 
 following and all eventful morning I felt or thought 
 I felt better. The circular was not issued, and I 
 resolved to proceed to business at the appointed hour, 
 and thus, to the best of my ability, fulfil my engage- 
 ment with the public. Everything but good health 
 favored the opening night. The weather was good, 
 my spirits were good, the audience was good, and — I 
 simply record what was stated by the press — the 
 entertainment elicited from others the like designation. 
 But that verdict was not obtained without a desperate 
 and almost fatal effort on the part of the performer. 
 "While the audience appeared to derive pleasure from 
 what was £oin£ on.thev were altogether ignorant of the 
 bodily pain of the poor sufferer who, with forced smiles 
 and simulated vigor, catered for their amusement. 
 
408 KUltBEB OXE. 
 
 The race was over just in time. When won — I 
 immediately broke down. I could not have entered 
 on another scene without having at once betrayed 
 the weakness I had so successfully managed to con- 
 ceal. On the following day I was too unwell for 
 anything^ except to recline on the sofa, read the 
 opinions of the press on the entertainment which 
 gave birth to my illness, reflect awhile on the seeming 
 futility of my beautiful arrangements for making a 
 rapid and handsome fortune, and send for the medical 
 gentleman whose advice — "to abstain from all excite- 
 ment " — I had previously disregarded. 
 
 " The country and your native air may do something 
 for you. At present I can do nothing" 
 
 Such was the soothing balm of my medical com- 
 forter ! Having before solicited his advice and fol- 
 lowed my own, I found him on this occasion honest 
 enough to administer a dose which proved at least 
 irresistible, if not efficacious. To the country and my 
 native air I at once repaired. But country and native 
 air failed to arrest the approaching malady. In a few 
 days I was confined to bed by malignant fever. When, 
 at the expiration of six weeks, that fever had sufficiently 
 subsided to permit of my removal to London, another 
 and more lasting disease followed — one from which I 
 have never recovered, and shall probably never re- 
 cover. To this, the heaviest blow yet greatest blessing 
 of my life, I will briefly refer in the next chapter. 
 
HAPPINESS.— THE BEST STAGE OF ALL. 
 
u I thank God for this severe affliction." With 
 some persons it is usual to return thanks to God for 
 benefits received. I am not aware of ever having 
 omitted the like duty for any special act or acts of 
 kindness conferred on me by man, though unfortu- 
 nately I have no doubt whatever of having again and 
 asrain neglected it for blessings from above. But 
 after two years of severe illness I could honestly and 
 gratefully exclaim, and did so exclaim to myself and 
 myself alone, "I thank God for this severe affliction/' 
 Though a great sufferer, my sins have been far greater 
 than my sufferings, and I am therefore thankful I 
 have not suffered more. 
 
 Thankful for affliction? Yes. And more than 
 this — I declare such affliction to have been the 
 greatest boon of my life. These words may fall on 
 some ears like vacant sounds from a mind affected by 
 the infirmities of a diseased body. Be this as it may, 
 they are nevertheless something beyond the mere 
 phantoms of an inflated imagination. They are 
 nothing more nor less than the silent records of 
 sterling realities. I was never a good hand at fiction, 
 and will not now attempt it in probably the last 
 work, if not the last chapter I shall ever pen. Not 
 
412 number oxe; or, 
 
 easily led away by plausible theories, and sceptical on 
 all subjects that cannot be clearly explained, I will 
 not myself advance anything" incapable of proof. 
 Let me, then, in a few brief sentences, offer to the. 
 sceptic an explanation of the seemingly strange 
 avowal of — thankfulness for affliction ! 
 
 First — on personal or selfish ground alone, I have 
 every reason to be thankful for affliction, inasmuch 
 as it has been my greatest benefactor. How ? Be- 
 cause I have received from it a treasure by far more 
 precious than gold, viz. — true happiness. Yes ; I was 
 happier during severe illness, as I now am under 
 partial restoration to health, than I have ever been 
 at any other period of my existence. Why ? Because 
 I trusted more in God and less on man. By the 
 latter I have often been deceived. By the former — 
 never. He has given me all and more than all I ever 
 asked, for he has given me the present extension of 
 life which I now enjoy — and that I did not ask. Oh, 
 how poor and how light are the favors of this world, 
 in comparison with the tender mercies and ines- 
 timable love of God I Almost as light as air, yet 
 hardly heavy enough for their mother earth — the 
 former are like flimsy little flakes of chaff, while the 
 latter resembles a full-grown ear of corn. The corn 
 reflects the never-failing goodness of Heaven, and the 
 world is merely the external chaff. 
 
 But I am not going to sermonize on the subject. 
 
THE WAX. OF THE WOELD. 413 
 
 If by the grace of God I have at length discovered in 
 his Son Jesus Christ the great and only source of real 
 happiness, it is enough for me simply to record the 
 fact. It is not needful that every recipient of a 
 spiritual draught should expatiate on the exact man- 
 ner in which each drop from the living stream of life 
 has been sought or received. Myriads of brother 
 believers have already drunk and are now drinking, 
 while all are invited to drink, at the great fount 
 which the Saviour of mankind in his own body 
 opened to the whole world. And in heartfelt grati- 
 tude to the Almighty for the light that has guided 
 one so unworthy as myself thus far towards the path 
 of eternal peace, this heart — while life itself shall 
 therein find a dwelling place — can never cease to 
 thank God for the severe affliction that opened the 
 way to a never-failing antidote. But without dwell- 
 ing on a subject in which I feel more than I can 
 express, let me now recount the leading incidents of 
 the three years in which the darkest clouds of present 
 life were all dispelled by brilliant rays of hope in the 
 future. 
 
 Xext to a monetary test, a long fit of illness is the 
 very best of all earthly proofs for correctly estimating 
 the value of friends and friendship. Sickness is a 
 blast that makes the light of friendship quiver in the 
 distance. "When that friendship is composed only of 
 base matter, poverty is its extinguisher. When I fell 
 
414 NUMBEB, ONE; OR, 
 
 sick, by how many old friends was I visited ? Let 
 old friends, if any still survive, answer the question. 
 I will merely observe that capon and claret proved 
 more attractive than blisters and black draughts, and- 
 that friends were ever at hand to discuss the merits 
 of the one, though few indeed made their appearance 
 to dwell on the miseries of the other. 
 
 Oh, what a strange picture of the way of the world 
 is shadowed forth under mental or bodily affliction ! 
 To any person with a precarious income a passport to 
 fashionable society may be regarded as a faithful 
 index to future sorrow. I had mixed with, and had 
 been courted by superiors both in wealth and station. 
 Welcomed by them while I was in health and pros- 
 perity, I was now forsaken and forgotten ia adversity. 
 Even those who had feasted at my table, danced at 
 my soirees, or taken part in my private entertain- 
 ments, omitted, after one or two formal calls, either 
 to visit or enquire after the poor sufferer who had 
 wasted time and money in contributing to their plea- 
 sures. 
 
 "A good sort of fellow enough, and not bad com- 
 pany, but he has been a great fool to himself." 
 
 This or a similar judgment from once- welcomed 
 guests was soon found to be the only return for 
 prodigal hospitality — the only comforter contributed 
 by society for the repose of the host whom his late 
 visitors truly described as " a great fool to himself/' 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 415 
 
 Yet, in addition to my immediate social circle, 
 there was, and still is, one friend — beside the Heavenly 
 One — that never forsook me. Next to my oxen 
 family, that friend is my largest social creditor. The 
 gratitude due to him may be compared to our 
 national debt — something beyond all hope of liqui- 
 dation. And the obligations still increase. Yet a 
 warm embrace from the hand of friendship is the 
 only return I can offer which proves acceptable to the 
 heart that asks no favor but that of adding to those 
 already granted by itself. I will say no more of one 
 to whom I briefly alluded in the preceding chapter, 
 except that I again thank God for the affliction that 
 proved the value of such a friend. Let no man rail 
 at fortune, if among a multitude of counterfeits he 
 can only find one prize like this. 
 
 If then the unselfish acts of private friendship, 
 benevolence, and love are inestimable, who shall 
 estimate the noble deeds of a public benefactor ? As 
 a connecting link with the leading incidents in this 
 chapter, it is necessary to say a few words on a subject 
 which will survive when present readers and writers 
 shall cease to be. That subject may be found in 
 
 A FAITHEUL CHRISTIAN MINISTER. 
 
 "A man's good deeds will prove his noblest monument." 
 
 It is thus with the dear departed one of whom I 
 am about to speak. I reside, as I have long resided, 
 
416 NUHBEB 0>'E J OR, 
 
 in a suburban district — one that is thickly peopled, 
 though, so far as spiritual matters are concerned, it 
 had long been one of the desert appendages of the 
 English metropolis. About fifteen years ago the sad 
 state of the locality came to the knowledge of a 
 gentleman who was then an entire stranger in the 
 
 district. The Rev. David , F.R.S., is no longer 
 
 of this world, and his name — one destined to outlive 
 the present generation — must rather confer honor on, 
 than be honored by, a few pages that will be read and 
 then thrown aside. TTell. Like a pilgrim in a 
 heathen land, the gentleman entered on a voluntary 
 mission in a desolate district. I had the privilege of 
 making his acquaintance. His self-imposed task 
 appeared at first to be an impossibility. But his task 
 was a labor of love, his only object being to do good 
 where good was so much needed. AVhat a life of 
 practical Christianity was here displayed ! Xever did 
 fallible mortal, in daily solicitude for the poor and 
 needy, more frequently remind others, by personal 
 example, of the great work of our blessed Saviour. 
 
 In the humble room of an humble dwelling the Rev. 
 David entered on his sacred mission. His open- 
 ing service and first sermon were delivered to a con- 
 gregation of twenty-three persons only ! Nothing 
 daunted, he continued his weekly services and daily 
 visitations till his little room was unable to accom- 
 modate all who desired to enter. A temporary 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 417 
 
 church was now erected. But this building, like its 
 predecessor, was soon found inadequate to the wants 
 of the inhabitants. So far gratified by the result of 
 his individual exertions, the reverend gentleman on 
 his own responsibility — aided only to a moderate 
 extent by a small number of friends — and at the 
 cost of the whole of his private fortune, built 
 a church capable of accommodating fifteen hundred 
 persons. The cost of the building, together with 
 the adjoining schools, having exceeded the original 
 estimate by about four thousand pounds, the 
 founder was compelled to insure his life as secu- 
 rity for the debt. Having expressly stipulated with 
 the proper authorities that flve hundred of the sittings 
 in his church should be free, the stipend arising from 
 the incumbency was barely sufficient to cover the 
 expense of insurance on the life of the incumbent. 
 This debt proved a heavy drag on one of the noblest 
 hearts that was ever filled with heavenly emotions. 
 Still, the bearer continued, without a murmur, on his 
 — to him — sunny path of love and duty, working day 
 and night for and among the poor and needy. The 
 good man's deeds, as well as his pecuniary responsi- 
 bility, eventually came to the knowledge of the 
 present Bishop of London. It was only after con- 
 siderable persuasion that this worthy prelate induced 
 
 Mr. to leave his own family — as he called his 
 
 congregation — for a living in the city, which in a 
 
 F F 
 
418 znOIBER oxe; or, 
 
 little while would enable him to leave free from debt 
 the sacred temple in which he had gathered his 
 family around him. 
 
 The most sinful of mankind cannot but admire in 
 others the virtues of which they are themselves de- 
 ficient. I have ever held noble spirits in the greatest 
 veneration, without myself being one of the number. 
 I deem it impossible for any human being to entertain 
 for another a more profound love than that kindled 
 in this bosom by the daily acts of my friend and 
 
 pastor, David . Yet, somehow or other, I was 
 
 for many years a friend and admirer of the man I 
 failed to imitate. I loved the precepts and lauded 
 
 the example both of Honest John and David , 
 
 while I was at the same time driving free and fast in 
 the icay of the world. Whatever progress I may now 
 have made in the right direction, Christianity with me 
 was certainly not a thing of sudden impulse, or even 
 rapid growth. Yet association with, and love for 
 good men may have had some influence on the future 
 action of the heart. 
 
 Poor David ! Even under his heavy mone- 
 tary burden, he was one of the happiest and most 
 cheerful men in England. His whole life affords a 
 striking illustration of the fact — of which I am now 
 more than ever convinced — that true Christianity and 
 real happiness are synonymous terms, that it is im- 
 possible for any one to possess even a little of the one 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 410 
 
 without having as much of the other, and that anv 
 person under any condition and in any sphere of life 
 may — without any recommendation or certificate of 
 character from his brother man — obtain a free grant 
 from the Divine Benefactor, simply by seeking it in 
 
 the proper way. Mr. held his new and lucrative 
 
 living in the City only for a very short period. A 
 dangerous illness soon terminated fatallv and brought 
 the glorious career of this good man to a close at the 
 age of jifty-nine. Though he was not spared to dis- 
 charge with his own hands the remaining debt on the 
 noble temple he had erected, 
 
 " He died and left that Temple fefe ! " 
 
 his life having been insured for the full amount that 
 was left unpaid. His unexpected death caused a 
 profound sensation, especially among the poor, by 
 whom he was universally beloved in the district of 
 Holy Trinity. It was the intention of his family to 
 have had his remains interred in the country, but an 
 urgent appeal from a body of late parishioners in- 
 duced his bereaved and respected widow to allow the 
 last sad service due to a deceased pastor to be dis- 
 charged in the church he had himself founded. Some 
 idea may be formed of the reverential regard in which 
 the memory of the departed founder was held from 
 the simple fact that hundreds of persons were unable 
 to gain admittance to the church at the time of the 
 
420 NUMBER ONE; OE, 
 
 funeral service, and that every shop in the entire 
 district was either entirely or partially closed on the 
 occasion, while nearly seven thousand mourners fol- 
 lowed the body of David to the grave. This 
 
 may be found recorded on his tombstone in Highgate 
 cemetery. 
 
 A word or two in conclusion. On the subject 
 named above I wish to prevent the possibility of a 
 false conclusion on the part of the reader. The Rev. 
 David won and reigned in the hearts of thou- 
 sands of his fellow creatures. Men and women 
 looked on him not only as a pastor but as a friend 
 and brother, while little children loved and regarded 
 him as an affectionate parent. How, it may be 
 asked, -was all this accomplished ? Some persons may 
 suppose that the object of so much esteem, being a 
 clergyman, must have been always sermonizing ; 
 that the bell of his church must have been for ever- 
 lasting sounding an invitation to formal services, to 
 hymns from surpliced choristers, to daily or hourly 
 prayer meetings, to morning and evening lectures 
 and the like. Not so. Though at the duly appointed 
 periods the church bell summoned people to hear the 
 gospel in its pure and potent simplicity, rather than 
 to see the gospel dressed in theatrical costume, 
 
 David not only preached but practised that 
 
 gospel — not only distributed from the text of the 
 One Great Master the various parts to be performed 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 421 
 
 by others, but took the leading character himself. 
 And that character was not only adapted to the pul- 
 pit or platform, not only to the bedside of the sick 
 and dying, not only to the cottage with a vacant 
 chair, near which sit fatherless or motherless children, 
 not only to the desolate and foodless hovels of hunger, 
 crime, and want, but also to the social circle of his 
 equals or the gilded chambers of the great. He 
 loved good society but had little time to enjoy it. 
 One of his good deeds will illustrate hundreds, and 
 it will show at the same time a cause why the doer 
 had so little time to accept and take any part in the 
 mansions of the great, whither he was often invited. 
 In a wretched lodging, at the remote corner of a 
 court, which none but misery-hunters and friendly- 
 relief bearers would have found, Mr. discovered 
 
 a family on the brink of starvation. A poor woman 
 with her three children had been thus reduced to 
 want by a drunken husband, who for the second time 
 had been discharged from a good situation through 
 his intemperate habits. The loss of work and sub- 
 sequent pangs of poverty had in this instance found 
 a successor in a severe attack of illness, which the 
 drunkard had himself suffered, But from this ill- 
 ness he had nearly recovered. 
 
 The only point in the present narrative on which 
 I am in doubt is, — whether the patient recognised in 
 his visitor the minister by his dress, or whether he 
 
4*22 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 had a previous knowledge of Mr. through 
 
 having resided in the district of his ministrations. 
 That the title with which in his vulgar salutation 
 he addressed his benefactor was a correct one may be 
 seen by the opening dialogue. 
 
 " Sal, here's a parson/' said the unwashed and 
 sickly-looking husband to his wife, who, with an infant 
 in her arms and a child on either side, completed the 
 sad picture of misery which confronted the minister 
 as he entered the wretched abode. "We want no 
 parsons here," he gruffly muttered in a voice like that 
 of a bear growling at an intruder. " I say again, sir, 
 we want no parsons here," he repeated in a still 
 louder snarl. 
 
 " I presume you do not, my good man," replied 
 the minister; "but hearing from one of your neigh- 
 bours that you were in want of bread, I thought a 
 few shillings might perhaps be acceptable." 
 
 The hungry man appeared to be struck dumb with 
 surprise. Without raising himself from the chair on 
 which he was seated, he slowly turned the back of 
 both towards his visitor, inclined his head forward, 
 and remained mute. The minister, with a look of 
 compassion, but without a word of admonition to 
 hungry mortals, simply handed his contribution to 
 the poor woman, who in a flood of tears evinced by a 
 few broken sentences her gratitude for an unexpected 
 boon. After a few words of sympathy, expressive of 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 4*23 
 
 a hope that the distress of the family might soon 
 
 receive more than temporary relief, Mr. took his 
 
 departure, promising to call again on the morrow. 
 He did so call, but was honestly informed by the 
 woman that her husband being ashamed to face his 
 benefactor, had purposely absented himself at the 
 time of the expected visit. 
 
 Some persons might think this intentional absence, 
 through shame, betrayed anything but a sign of im- 
 provement on the part of the absentee. The reverend 
 visitor thought otherwise, and declared — a declaration 
 I heard from his own lips — "that a man must be 
 ashamed of his doings before he is likely to do better." 
 It is evident the poor man was ashamed of himself, 
 not of his benefactor. In return for insult he had 
 received kindness, though he wanted moral courage 
 to acknowledge or ask forgiveness for his fault. 
 Better this feeling than the false guise of that sneak- 
 ing hypocrite who would readily acknowledge his 
 faults or confess his crimes, if by so doing he could 
 obtain silver or gold to commit other crimes. 
 
 A few days after the minister's last visit to the 
 seat of poverty, the chief cause of that poverty was 
 agreeably surprised on receiving from his late em- 
 ployers a message to the effect that, " owing to the 
 
 intercession of the Rev. David , the firm were 
 
 disposed to give an intemperate workman one more 
 trial." About a month after this, the minister — 
 
424 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 taking his accustomed survey of, and talk with, little 
 children before service on the Sabbath day — saw on 
 one of the free seats in his church, not only the late 
 drunkard, but also the wife and three children whom 
 he had previously visited. In answer to the minister's 
 kind welcome of, " I am pleased to see you, and hope 
 you have recovered from the effects of your late ill- 
 ness," the man replied to his pastor in a respectful 
 manner for the first, but not for the last time. Xo ; 
 but the story may be closed in another sentence. 
 From that hour of friendly recognition to the present 
 — a period of many years — the late slave to intemper- 
 ance has not only been one of the most temperate and 
 respectable artizans in the district, but both himself, 
 his wife, and his children have ever been regular in 
 their attendance at the church founded by David . 
 
 Let me simply add that the character of this good 
 man is not mentioned as an isolated one. It is merely 
 a type of hundreds of Gospel ministers who, in de- 
 voting their lives in various ways — often under per- 
 sonal discomforts, trials, and revilings — to a faithful 
 discharge of their laborious and ill-requited duties, 
 look only for their reward in the future fulfilment of 
 that heavenly promise of which they are themselves 
 but messengers to those below. 
 
 To proceed with the account of my own " ups and 
 downs " in life, it is necessary to observe that my 
 work on the Australian Colonies proved a commer- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 425 
 
 cial success, and that the proceeds arising from this 
 success not only freed me from past and present em- 
 barrassment, but served during the early part of a 
 protracted illness to keep a feeble patient at least out 
 of debt/ if not out of pain. The heavy liabilities 
 which had been incurred in mounting the entertain- 
 ment with which I had intended to make — but did 
 not make — a fortune were all discharged, and I was 
 truly thankful to find that the anticipated danger to 
 an invalid's comfort, through the dreaded sale of 
 family trinkets and treasures, was ' for a time sus- 
 pended, if not entirely dispelled. It will be unneces- 
 sary to dwell on the success of the book, beyond the 
 simple statement that previous to the disposal of the 
 copyright, and within a period of about fifteen 
 months, nearly four thousand copies of the work had 
 been sold ; that it was favorably received by sixty- 
 six newspapers and magazines, and that a copy of 
 the second edition — three more have since been pub- 
 lished — was graciously accepted by Her Majesty, as 
 will be seen by the following communication : — 
 
 " Major- General Grey has had the honor of receiving 
 
 Mr. 's letter of yesterday, and having submitted it to 
 
 H.R.H. the Prince Consort, is now commanded to acknow- 
 ledge, with many thanks, the second edition of the work 
 
 which llr. has been good enough to send, and whicli 
 
 Her Majesty has much pleasure in accepting for the Pvoyal 
 Librarv. 
 
426 number oxe; ok., 
 
 " A ready sale and exalted patronage ! " Pleasing 
 sounds to an author's ear. But there are clouds and 
 casualties in life which may in the course of time 
 overshadow even these sunny rays of fortune. An 
 illness which opened with fever, was followed by one 
 of the most painful operations in surgery, and finally, 
 after raging for two years with more or less severity, 
 left with the patient a pulmonary complaint sup- 
 posed to be incurable, proved altogether like a circuit 
 of insatiable quicksands that swallowed up all the 
 golden store that rested on its shallow waters. Every 
 coin, whatever its size, complexion, or value, no 
 sooner entered the unsubstantial circle than it dis- 
 appeared ; and it was only by the good housewife's 
 skill in matters of finance, and by the most rigid 
 observance of economy in the use of material matter, 
 that an auctioneer's hammer was prevented from 
 falling with a terrible crash on the grand piano, at 
 the same time inflicting a heavy blow on its owners. 
 Yet, even in sickness, there are but few persons in the 
 world who are too poor to aid the cause of charity in 
 some way or other — either in word or act. 
 
 Charity ! Type of heavenly grace, that shoots 
 from the very soul of man for the good of others. 
 I speak not of spurious charity, of which there is so 
 much in the icay of the world, but of that which 
 springs spontaneously from a sensitive and willing 
 heart, without the influence either of force or fashion. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 127 
 
 I speak of the penny given with the wish that it 
 could be made a pound, not of the pound given with 
 a secret desire that it could be reduced to a penny. 
 The one is like those gentle and refreshing streams — 
 symbols of- divine love — which run their daily course 
 throughout the length and breadth of the land for 
 the benefit of mankind ; the other is like inanimate 
 pools of stagnant water — pumped from acrid human 
 wells by the aid of high-pressure engines. 
 
 But the cause of charity is sometimes, no doubt, 
 largely served from sources in which charity itself — 
 if it has any existence at all in the human heart — 
 may occupy but a very small space. It is not long 
 ago that in an almost incredible brief space of time, 
 contributions to the amount of twenty-four thou- 
 sand pounds were collected for the London Hospital. 
 This large sum was obtained in the course of a few 
 days, by a few gentlemen, and from a few contributors 
 only ! But how and by whom was the thing accom- 
 plished ? Who were the collectors, and who were 
 the subscribers ? The subscribers were extensive 
 merchants, and the collectors, by whom those mer- 
 chants were personally waited on, were their backers. 
 The directors of the London Hospital exercised a 
 sound discretion in appointing such a committee of 
 canvassers. But, instead of a polite visit from his 
 banker, had each merchant been waited on by the 
 secretary of the hospital, would the monetary result of 
 
428 NUMBER ONE J OR, 
 
 the application have been the same ? It is well that 
 in the icay of the world the hand that tenders a gift is 
 not always guided in its movement by the heart of 
 the giver — otherwise the cause of charity might 
 seriously suffer. 
 
 But can there in tbe life of man be any feeling 
 more delightful or gratifying to the soul than that 
 which emanates from an act of real charity ? I 
 firmly believe that for every such act the actor is 
 rewarded four-fold ; that the recipient of charity, in 
 fact, receives in material aid something of far less 
 value than the award accorded to the donor in a 
 blessing which can never decay. In such things the 
 heart is its own paymaster, and seldom forgets the 
 peaceful and pleasant feeling due to its master for 
 the means of doing good. 
 
 The following incident happened more than twenty 
 years ago. Though a trifle in itself, it is perhaps 
 worthy of record, owing to the lasting impression 
 such a trifle is capable of making on the mind. In 
 this instance the impression, which has never been, 
 and can never — till death — be erased from the memory, 
 was rendered doubly impressive from the effect pro- 
 duced by two opposite senses — first, through the pain 
 occasioned by selfishness; and secondly, from the plea- 
 sure arising through the defeat of that selfishness in 
 the heart wherein the struggle took place. Its origin 
 might be traced to an early acquaintance with — 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 429 
 
 A EAST YOUNG GENTLEMAN. 
 
 A young officer, who was far more skilful in the 
 practice of contracting debts than in that of discharg- 
 ing them, had for some time been my debtor to the 
 extent of ten pounds. Although the loss of his 
 companionship — for he never called on his friend 
 after he had left him a type of his character in an 
 I.O.U. — was cheap at such a price, I considered it 
 would be still cheaper if I could get back my money. 
 As written communications on the subject had proved 
 of no avail, I at length resolved to try the effect of 
 a personal application. My late companion, the red 
 jacket, was now quartered at Chatham. At this time 
 there was no railwav in that direction ; and, takin^ 
 the usual conveyance, I started by steam-boat for 
 Gravesend, with the intention of proceeding to 
 Chatham by omnibus. 
 
 Before the steamer had reached her destination I 
 saw, in a secluded corner behind the paddle-box, a 
 poor man, his wife, and three children, who were 
 making an attempt to allay hunger with a few pieces 
 of dry bread which had been withdrawn from a small 
 cotton wrapper. Previous to their humble repast, 
 they must have solicited a supply of water, for it was 
 the reluctant, grumbling way in which a jug ot' this 
 fluid was furnished by the steward that first attracted 
 my attention towards the little family circle. They 
 
430 KTJMBER 0>'E ; OR, 
 
 were evidently very poor; they were also very ragged; 
 but they were at the same time very clean and very 
 quiet. I dont't know what it was that made me 
 suddenly regard these " ragamuffins/' as the cabin 
 boy called them, with more than common interest ; 
 I only know that I did so regard them, and watched 
 their movements with as much attention as if they 
 had been related to me by some family tie. 
 
 At the close of their bread and water meal, when 
 they were quietly strolling a little farther aft, but 
 without the most remote idea of the penalty incurred 
 by the movement, they were suddenly waited on by 
 the collector of passenger fares. At this period two 
 shillings was the charge in the saloon, and one and 
 sixpence in the fore-cabin, the usual half-fare being 
 charged for children under twelve years of age. 
 Taking from the corner of her handkerchief the 
 correct amount — as she, in blissful ignorance of any- 
 thing to the contrary, imagined — of passage money 
 for the family, the poor woman handed the same to 
 the collector. 
 
 "Two of ye are there, and three children?" said 
 the collector, on counting the money. " I want one 
 and ninepence more." 
 
 "One — one and — and ninepence more?" said the 
 poor woman, casting a look of dismay towards her 
 husband. " We was told one and sixpence each, and 
 half-price for the youngsters, wasn't us, John ? " 
 
THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 431 
 
 u Yes, that we wor," replied John, as the features 
 of both srave evidence of the greatest alarm. 
 
 "The fare's two shillings 'haft the funnel. You 
 should a kept forrmd if you wanted to go for less. I 
 want one and ninepenee. Come, look sharp," said 
 the collector, in a manner as sharp as his words. 
 
 Without further comment or complaint, the be- 
 wildered pair evinced a ready desire to submit to the 
 unexpected tax, by immediately searching their 
 pockets for the amount. Unable to muster more 
 than one and eightpence between them, they made 
 an appeal to their eldest child (a girl about twelve 
 years of age) who at once furnished the required 
 penny. So soon as the collector had taken her money 
 and departed, the poor child, with tears in her eyes 
 and an indescribable look of affectionate compassion 
 on her countenance, tendered to her distressed parents 
 another penny — evidently the last coin in the world 
 in which this poor family had a joint interest. 
 
 My heart was suddenly pierced to its very centre. 
 I was not aware, till now, that sympathy, even in 
 her most powerful touch, could inoculate her subjects 
 with a pang so poignant. I had never before, and 
 have not, I believe, since, been so suddenly overcome 
 by other people's distress. The feeling was too acute 
 for anything but a desire for a speedy deliverance 
 therefrom. My hand was already in my pocket — 
 but, on turning aside for a moment's reflection and 
 
432 number one; or, 
 
 relief, it was withdrawn empty. The painful feeling 
 had already lost a little of its intensity. While it 
 existed I thought only of the wants of others ; I now 
 began to think chiefly of my own. Ten shillings 
 represent my cash personality. From this amount I 
 had to pay carriage fare to Chatham, and also dis- 
 charge the expenses of the return journey to London. 
 How, then, could anything be spared for the poor 
 family whose moneyless and foodless — perhaps bedless 
 — position I commisierated ? 
 
 It was this question that provoked a sudden con- 
 flict between self and self-sacrifice. The contest was 
 a severe one. Had the money which self wanted out 
 of the pocket of the red jacket at Chatham been 
 reclaimed, a few shillings might have been spared for 
 the foodless family of five. This was a strong argu- 
 ment on the part of self ; yet feeling was all in 
 favor of self-sacrifice. But while the heart was 
 engaged as umpire in the struggle, the steamer had 
 been moored, and her passengers were rapidly moving 
 towards the shore. Foremost in the crowd were the 
 objects of my solicitude. In a few minutes they were 
 on their way up the High Street of the town ; in a 
 few minutes more they were lost to my view. Self 
 had won the victor)- — no — yes ; still, a desire to 
 know whether the spirits that provoked contention 
 between two opposite senses had reached their desti- 
 nation, or whether they had to journey beyond the 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 433 
 
 town before there would be a chance of their obtain- 
 ing relief, induced me to follow in the direction they 
 had taken. Sight of the poor travellers was soon re- 
 gained, and I followed in their wake to a road leading 
 to the country. Their live stock — the only stock 
 they possessed — was now re-adjust ed, the youngest 
 child being suspended to the back of its mother, the 
 second taken to its father's arms, and the eldest left 
 to tramp her way with her parents. Seeing they 
 had now prepared for a journey, the very thought of 
 which was quite enough for their present follower, a 
 determination on my part to satisfy curiosity — if no- 
 thing more — induced me for a few moments to advance 
 with double-quick step abreast with the travellers. 
 
 " Fine day this for travelling," I remarked. 
 
 " Mighty fine day, indeed, master," said the head 
 of the travelling family. 
 
 " Have you far to go ? " I enquired. 
 
 "About a matter a twelve miles, I reckon," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " To your own home, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, sir," said the wife. " These parts is 
 quite strange to us, sir." 
 
 " Hounslow's our parish," added the husband. 
 
 "And did you walk from Hounslow to London, 
 before taking the steamer for Gravesend ? " 
 
 " Me and my missus did, sir ; but a man in a cart 
 took the youngsters a goodish way for the matter of 
 a drop a beer." 
 
 G G 
 
434 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 "I suppose you were surprised at having to pay 
 two shillings each for your passage by the steamer ? " 
 
 "We wor, indeed, master/' said the poor man, 
 without complaining of the advantage that had been 
 taken of his ignorance on the subject. 
 
 " I was very thankful we had enough to pay the 
 charge, sir/' added the wife. 
 
 "/paid a penny, sir/' said the good-tempered 
 child at her side. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Jane," said the mother. 
 
 <c Do you expect to find good employment in the 
 part of Kent to which you are going? " I enquired. 
 
 " Pretty good I reckon, sir. They tell us that hop- 
 pickers is right well paid." 
 
 " And my husband has gotten a letter of recom- 
 mendation to the minister of . AVould you like 
 
 to see it, sir ? " said the poor woman. 
 
 " I should very much like to see it." 
 
 The letter, which was carefully wrapped in a large 
 piece of brown paper, was handed to me for perusal. 
 It ran thus : — 
 
 ' ' The Yicar of presents his compliments to Mr. , 
 
 and has much pleasure in recommending for employment in 
 
 Mr. 's district the bearer, John , whom the Yicar has 
 
 known for many years as a sober, industrious man, whose 
 praiseworthy and constant endeavour to keep from the work- 
 house an aged mother has been the chief cause of his being 
 so poor himself." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 435 
 
 Enough. The letter was returned, without com- 
 ment, to its owner. And now the right arm of 
 brotherly love was not raised from the pocket of the 
 sympathizer empty handed. Notwithstanding the 
 long and unequal contest— all in favor of self — that 
 had previously taken place in the heart, this umpire 
 now assigned the victory to self-sacrifice, while that 
 human monster, number one, was defeated without a 
 blow. 
 
 But who can truly picture the joyful sensation 
 arisino- from such a victory ? " The victor" — some 
 may sav. Let none believe it. It is something 
 beyond human power. Man is capable of much ; 
 but till he is able to breathe into his own soul that 
 breath of hallowed love which can share the distress 
 of another, and find pleasure in the task — till he can 
 infuse into his heart the pure spirit of charity, which 
 is the peculiar gift of God, he cannot paint the 
 image of a sense, immortal ! What ! Attempt to 
 describe the sensation that ran through every vein 
 when the heart was suddenly relieved of a burden, by 
 the absence of which its bearer was changed to ano- 
 ther being ? No. I take no credit to myself for the 
 change so quickly effected, and will not attempt to 
 describe what was accomplished by the agency of 
 some ministering angel. I may give the external 
 or business features of the case, by simply stating, 
 that with the poor family who were reduced to their 
 
436 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 last penny I divided the contents of my own pnrse ; 
 that for the two half-crowns with which they were 
 thus astonished from the hand of a stranger they 
 gave me looks and tears which were far more eloquent 
 than words ; and that when I had parted from them 
 I felt that, in reality, I was their debtor, and that no 
 amount of money — had not the heart accompanied 
 the gift — could have purchased the blessing I received 
 in return for the small sum of five shillings ! Did I 
 over estimate the value of what had been given me 
 in exchange for such a trifle ? Xo. An unseen hand 
 had infused at least twenty-five per cent, of purifying 
 matter into a selfish nature. There was now a per- 
 manent link of sympathy between my own soul and 
 suffering humanity. From that hour to the present 
 I have entertained for the uncomplaining and deserving 
 poor a genuine spark of unselfish love — love which 
 could never have been created in the same breast 
 by golden treasures, polished courtesies, or exalted 
 patronage from the hands of the high and mighty in 
 the way of the icorld. 
 
 After I had parted for ever from the grateful family 
 of five, I felt — I don't know how I felt. But all the 
 faculties of mind, body, and soul seemed wonderfully 
 pleased with each other. Did the reader ever make 
 or hear the remark of, " that gentleman appears to be 
 on very good terms with himself? " If so, he has 
 made or heard what would have been applicable to me 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 437 
 
 on the occasion referred to. Or — should the reader 
 be a ladv — has the lady, during a residence at school 
 or elsewhere in a Catholic country, seen with what 
 buoyant hearts young persons return from a confes- 
 sion box ? If so, the fair reader may form some idea 
 of my feeling, after the conscience had been relieved 
 of something heavier than it was able to bear. So 
 happy was I, that, during my return walk through 
 the streets of Gravesend, neither the red jacket de- 
 faulter, nor his miniature I.O.U., which filled an 
 otherwise empty space in my purse, ever for a moment 
 floated on the memory. It was only when I reached 
 the spot where an omnibus cad saluted the passers 
 by with the question of, " Going to Chatham ? " that 
 the cause of my not going became apparent. 
 
 The sum of five shillings being merely enough to 
 pay the passage of its owner to town, and provide 
 him with a little refreshment on the journey, I took 
 a walk in the vicinity of Gravesend till the hour ap- 
 pointed for the departure of the next steamer for 
 London. On entering the vessel a few minutes before 
 four o'clock, I proceeded at once to the cabin, being 
 quickened in this movement by a sharp appetite, and 
 by the supposition that the balance of cash in hand 
 —after deducting passage-money— might be ex- 
 pended on a cold collation, much to the comfort of 
 the passenger concerned, and as an agreeable way of 
 applying a portion of the time to be occupied in the 
 passage to London. 
 
438 NUltBEB one; oe, 
 
 The repast over, I was reclining in the corner of 
 the cabin conch, in that drowsy state of repose usually 
 designated, "between sleeping and waking;" aud 
 while thus engaged in dreamy foreshadowings of a 
 trip to Chatham on some future day, I was suddenly 
 startled by the sound of a familiar voice from a person 
 on deck — " I say, steward, why the d — 1 don't you 
 bring up the cigars we ordered F M 
 
 To this question there was no reply, owing to the 
 steward's absence. But in a few seconds a rattle of 
 swords on the cabin-stairs announced the descent of 
 the inquisitor and a pair of companions. First to 
 enter the saloon was the veritable red jacket whom 
 I was in search of. 
 
 "Fire and fury !" exclaimed the astonished lieute- 
 nant, on beholding his old acquaintance; "why, 
 Frank, who on earth would have thought of see- 
 ing you here ? " 
 
 " Xot you, Reynold, that's quite certain," I replied. 
 
 "By St. George, no ! But give us your hand, old 
 fellow, for I am delighted to see you again — I am 
 really, Frank." 
 
 "Believe me, Reynold, I am equally pleased to see 
 you. Indeed, I was thinking about two hours since 
 of going down to Chatham, but ." 
 
 "It's just as well you didn't. We bade a final 
 adieu to that dull hole this morning, and fired over 
 it a volley of anything but affectionate farewells. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 439 
 
 We've been dining with a few friends in Gravesend, 
 as we take our departure in a few days on foreign 
 service. Allow me to introduce my friends, Captain 
 and Lieutenant . You must know, gentle- 
 men, that Frank is an old acquaintance of mine j and 
 the unexpected pleasure of meeting a friend to whom 
 I — I am indebted for many a kind — here, steward, 
 bring a bottle of champagne ! " 
 
 " I beg, Keynold, you will not think of ordering 
 champagne on my account." 
 
 " By St. George, no ! I'll order it on my own 
 account, but I expect you to partake of it. You must 
 know, gentlemen, that Frank and I have often played 
 together in amateur performances, though I'm inclined 
 to think the fool was the only character in which I 
 succeeded." 
 
 " Permit me to say, Keynold, that you always 
 played your own character well." 
 
 " Ah ! I find you are as satirical as ever. By-the 
 bye, Frank, if you call on me at the United Service 
 
 Club on Monday morning, I'll ." 
 
 " Pardon me, Reynold," interposed his friend 
 
 Captain , " you forget that we sail for Calcutta 
 
 on Saturday." 
 
 " Sat , is Saturday the day ? " confusedly 
 
 enquired Reynold. " \Yell, Frank, if you call on 
 Friday I shall be happy to exchange notes with you. 
 You understand ? Bring that bit of paper of mine 
 in your pocket." 
 
440 number one; or, 
 
 " Do you know, Reynold, it happens to be there at 
 this moment." 
 
 " The deuce it does ? Well, let's have it at once. 
 There, my boy ! " he continued, throwing on the 
 table a bank-note for one hundred pounds ! " Give 
 me change out of that I " 
 
 " You are very kind ; but how to deduct the trifle 
 you owe me from such a giant as this I am somewhat 
 at a loss to know." 
 
 i( How much do you want, Reynold ? " enquired 
 his friend, Captain . 
 
 " It's only ten pounds, sir," I said, before the lieute- 
 nant had time to reply. 
 
 " But I must have change," said Reynold. 
 
 " We can easily get the note cashed at Cox's. 
 There's a ten-pounder," said the captain, as he handed 
 me the money and returned the larger note to his 
 friend. 
 
 " Pop ! Here's the wine ! " said Reynold, as he 
 tore up the I.O.U. which I had kept for him for 
 more than two years. " Come, boys, let's drink to 
 the good taste of those that love us, and better taste 
 of those that don't ! " 
 
 I will not now tire the reader with the small talk 
 which took place over the first or second bottle of 
 champagne, but will simply observe, in reference to 
 the subsequent career of Reynold, that about twelve 
 months after his arrival in India he fell in action ; 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 441 
 
 and that the commanding officer paid a much higher 
 tribute to his bravery than could be accorded by a 
 numerous staff of creditors to the actions of a fast 
 lieutenant in the United Kingdom. 
 
 By the peculiar events disclosed in the foregoing 
 incident it will be seen that a simple act of charity, 
 at the cost of five shillings to the performer, was the 
 means of brinsnns^ about a meeting between debtor 
 and creditor, and thereby securing to the latter a 
 debt which would otherwise, in all probability, have 
 remained a debt to the present day. Bat let no one 
 for a moment suppose that this fact is adduced to 
 show the natural or invariable tendency of every 
 kindred movement, or to prove to the unfortunate 
 holders of I.O.U.'s and other creditors that sixpence 
 in the pound invested on charitable objects would be 
 attended with similar results. When charity becomes 
 a matter of business or a subject of pain, the per- 
 former had better consult his lawyer or his doctor. 
 
 In continuation of the narrative of my own life, I 
 may observe that at the expiration of about eighteen 
 months from the commencement of a severe illness, a 
 gradual fall in the quicksilver of a monetary barometer 
 a^ain indicated coming clouds on the social horizon — 
 clouds which might soon extinguish the golden rays 
 of a drooping exchequer. Though the success of a 
 recent publication had brought a good deal of money 
 to the family circle, that circle — with children just 
 
442 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 formed in line with one head above another on the 
 staircase leading to the grand hall of knowledge — is 
 just the place where a good deal of money is wanted. 
 Besides which, a book, unlike a bank, is seldom a 
 source of permanent revenue to its proprietor ; and I 
 also discovered that the diminished sale of my pen- 
 ink-arid-paper commodity failed to produce a corre- 
 sponding diminution in the bread and butter wants 
 of those whose cares in life were not yet of a character 
 to affect their appetites. Still — thanks to a merciful 
 Providence — our cupboard was never entirely empty, 
 though the exchequer has often been in that un- 
 pleasant condition. 
 
 If " charity begins at home," it may be fairly as- 
 sumed that she would be unable to leave home at a 
 time like that denoted by the preceding remarks. 
 Yet at this more than at any other time since the 
 
 death of David , aid was required of his friends 
 
 for the purpose of extending the noble schools he had 
 founded, but which were now inadequate to the wants 
 of the district poor. Money I had none to give, 
 while little value could attach to the labors of one 
 who was not only a prisoner in his own dwelling, but 
 an object of solitary confinement, on anything but a 
 soft bed, about eighteen hours out of every twenty- 
 four. But can I do nothing to advance the glorious 
 cause of education for the poor ? This was a question 
 which for several weeks found no reply. At last 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 413 
 
 came the answer — "I'll try." At this period a daily 
 draught from the " little legacy " — the Bible — left 
 me by Honest John, was by no means a thing so 
 nauseous to the palate as it proved to be when the 
 divine composition was first prescribed for an un- 
 grateful patient. Instead of uneasiness, as heretofore, 
 the book now brought consolation and comfort. This 
 effect being the result of reading it, might not a cor- 
 responding result be produced in writing on it ? And 
 might not other readers who felt an equal interest in 
 the volume, favor a little subject thereon, having for 
 its object the spiritual welfare of poor children? 
 These thoughts, leaning towards a desire for the 
 solution of the original question, were instrumental 
 in bringing: about the final determination of — "I'll 
 try." 
 
 About twelve months after the foregoing resolve, 
 more than one hundred short poems on Holy T\ rit 
 had been composed by the bed-ridden author. So 
 far, therefore, as the writer was concerned the question 
 was practically solved. The pleasure I had derived 
 in the composition of these poems — although the 
 majority had been written while on a bed of sickness 
 — had proved an ample reward for the self-imposed 
 task of the writer. But the pleasure derived by the 
 author in writing them was one- thing, while that 
 which might be derived by others in reading them 
 was another thing. The latter embraced a portion of 
 
444 NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 the subject which had not been solved. And this 
 part would have still remained in its happy state of 
 uncertainty had not the private feelings of the writer 
 given way to a desire to aid the object for which the 
 work was in the first instance undertaken. "With 
 every wish to benefit the schools, I had no wish 
 whatever to make a futile attempt in that direction, 
 by printing an unsuccessful work. It was now a 
 question between hope and fear. "Which had the 
 most probable chance of realization ? A keen recol- 
 lection of the fate of the only unsuccessful book I had 
 previously written — a volume of poems — inclined my 
 opinion towards the gloomy side of the subject. Kind 
 friends entertained opposite opinions, and advised ac- 
 cordingly. One especially, a leading man among 
 dissenters, said that if he were allowed to publish the 
 poems in a cheap form, for the benefit of the church of 
 which he was a member, he would insure the sale of 
 a thousand copies among the congregation in less than 
 a week. " Wliat ? " he continued, " have you not at 
 your church a congregation of fifteen hundred, and 
 can you for a moment doubt the sale of a book of 
 original poems — however little you may regard their 
 merits — if published at one shilling, and for the 
 special benefit of your free school ? " These and 
 similar questions were persuasive, if not convincing, 
 and I resolved to test them. Without asking the 
 school committee to incur any liability, I allowed all 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 445 
 
 risks to rest on my own shoulders, although at this 
 time it would have been unwise to place a heavy 
 weight thereon. The book was printed, and, by 
 the following statement which appeared on the fly- 
 leaf of the volume, it will be seen that a ready sale 
 of the edition would have yielded to the schools the 
 sum of £28 6s. 6d. 
 
 " In preparing for publication oxe tholsaxd copies of this 
 little work, the following expenses have been incurred : — 
 
 " TV. H. & Co. (for printing) £10 3 3 
 
 Ditto (paper) 6 3 
 
 " B. & Son (binding) 5 10 
 
 " Total 21 13 6 
 
 " Thus every copy that may be sold at the published price of 
 oxe shilling will leave SEYEXPEXCE for the object stated 
 in the Preface." 
 
 An announcement was thus duly made to the lead- 
 ing seat-holders of the congregation of a little book 
 " by one of the members." At this time a resident 
 governess in the family of the author — a young lady 
 who, apart from her educational duties, took a warm 
 interest in advancing the cause of charity — had in- 
 tended making a voluntary call on some half-dozen 
 of the " grandees" of "our church flock." One call 
 was enough, if not to satisfy the lady, at least to 
 satisfy the author of poems "by a penitent," who 
 was neither disposed to become his own book hawker, 
 
446 NUMBER ONE J OK,, 
 
 nor to allow his friends to be insulted on his account. 
 Here are the parties and substance of the interview 
 alluded to : — 
 
 The Chilly family formerly resided in a small and 
 very humble dwelling in the parish of St. Pancras. 
 But, having made their way in life with railroad 
 speed, they now occupy one of the best houses in their 
 immediate district. People who thus rapidly get on 
 in the world have a perfect right to do as the Chillys 
 have done, by moving from third to second, and from 
 second to first-class carriages, as circumstances may 
 justify. Mr. Chilly is considered by everybody — 
 therefore by the writer — to be a very quiet, gentle- 
 manly, nice kind of man. It was on the Chilly 
 family " our governess " made her first and last call on 
 the subject before referred to. But it was Mrs. Chilly, 
 not Mr. Chilly, with whom she came in contact. 
 
 On entering the well- furnished drawing-room of 
 the family in question " our governess,' ' Miss 
 Prudence, was received with becoming courtesy. 
 But so soon as the subject of her mission was 
 made known, she found it was not an impossible 
 thing even for a member of her own sex to change 
 gentle words and gracious smiles into discordant 
 sounds, and looks like any but those of an angel. 
 
 " Oh ! I was not aware of the purport of your 
 visit. I have not read the book, although I have 
 certainly heard of it ; but I think nothing of it," 
 said Mrs. Chilly. 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOULD. 147 
 
 (< Possibly so, madam. It is not the merit but the 
 object of the publication to which I would call your 
 attention/' said Miss Prudence. 
 
 u But we have already subscribed to the schools ; and 
 with regard to poetry, I'm quite sure there's no 
 member of our congregation who can write poetry. 
 For my part, I can read nothing but Tennyson, and 
 not much of that." 
 
 " You have, no doubt, read Coventry Patmore's 
 ' Angel in the House ? ' " enquired Miss Prudence. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no. It's all very well for young people 
 to write about such things as angels, but I should 
 like to know where they are to be found ? " 
 
 " I fear there are not many in London," said Miss 
 Prudence, with a smile. 
 
 " You are quite right, young lady. And what 
 nonsense it is for writers attempting to describe what 
 they know nothing about." 
 
 "I hope, Mrs. Chilly, you will pardon me for the 
 liberty I took in calling on you. Good morning," 
 said Miss Prudence. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss, good morning. I am afraid 
 I've said too much. Of course I know nothing of the 
 author of the work you mention, and have no wish to 
 offend him ; though we shall not require any of his 
 books. Good morning, Miss." 
 
 It was soon made manifest that the undisguised 
 and — so far — honest expressions of Mrs. Chilly fairly 
 
4iS NUMBER ONE; OR, 
 
 represented the feelings of a large number of persons 
 who said nothing. That others of the congregation 
 had no more occasion for the book than the out- 
 spoken Mrs. Chilly may be inferred from the size of 
 the brown paper parcels which (for anything I know 
 to the contrary) remain to this day in their original 
 place on the yestry shelves — unless, perchance, their 
 uncut leaves have been removed for practical use to 
 the counter of some butter shop. 
 
 Had I been a young author instead of an old one, 
 disappointment at this cold reception of a literary off- 
 spring might have assumed something of a personal 
 character. But, having no vanity to gratify in the 
 success of the work, there was none to be wounded 
 by its failure. For the monetary loss and temporary 
 inconvenience occasioned by that failure, I was also 
 more than repaid by tokens of friendship from those 
 whose sympathies were of greater value than a few 
 ounces of gold. Yet I cannot confess to the entire 
 absence of disappointment on the subject. In addi- 
 tion to that created by the failure of the object of 
 the book, the cause of that failure was a source of 
 still greater surprise and sorrow. It was the verifi- 
 cation of a remark made by an observant pew-opener 
 that imparted pain to the heart of the writer : — 
 
 " Ah, Mr. , that's a nice little book of yours, and 
 
 it's very kind of you to write it for the good of our 
 schools ; but it's only religious people as will buy that 
 book, and we haven't many of them in our church." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 449 
 
 AVhat ? 2S ot many religious people in a congre- 
 gation of fifteen hundred souls ? Then, where are 
 religious people to he found, if not in church ? Or 
 what is it, if not religion that takes people there ? 
 Millions upon millions are weekly visitors of places 
 of worship — upon what errand, if not on that of 
 religion? Does the way of the world extend beyond 
 the portal of a temple consecrated, if not devoted to 
 the service of God? Within these holy sanctuaries 
 there are many turnings; are the majority of them 
 only footpaths or branches of the outer world? And 
 are the majority of those who tread thereon as busily 
 engaged — in spirit, if not in action — as the money- 
 changers whose tables our Saviour upset? These 
 queries created a temporary feeling of pain, inasmuch 
 as they tended to lessen the standard I had formed of 
 church-going people, during the life, and by the life 
 of Honest John. And an incident that almost im- 
 mediately followed the pew-opener's remark served 
 as another drop in the drooping side of the scale by 
 which I had weighed number ones of the first class. 
 
 The book proved a failure. Out of about two 
 hundred and fifty copies that were sold nearly two- 
 thirds of that number were purchased by non- 
 residents of the district, and strangers to the schools, 
 for the benefit of which the work was written. But 
 the ministers of the church knew the particular tastes 
 and inclinations of their flock far better than any 
 
 H H 
 
450 number one; or, 
 
 lay member — excepting, perhaps, a couple of expe- 
 rienced and active churchwardens. They also knew 
 how far — under their own guidance and protection — 
 to allow their flock to wander from their spiritual 
 domain in order to effect an object which could not 
 be accomplished at home. 
 
 And what was the nature of the attractive card or 
 compound which could enlist the sympathies of this 
 great flock ? What bait could draw from their silvery 
 stream or rich preserve that mental and spiritual food 
 which unenticed affection had failed to supply to 
 those dear little lambs that stood, homeless and 
 friendless, at the very gates of plenty? Was it a 
 charity sermon by bishop Faithful ? Nothing of the 
 sort. Twenty-five pounds would have been the out- 
 side yield of such a call. It was something more 
 attractive than that — ay, and more productive too ! 
 It was nothing more nor less than — a concert ! Was 
 it a concert of sacred music given in church ? No. 
 It was a miscellaneous concert given at Hanover 
 Square Rooms. Having obtained the gratuitous 
 services of a few fiddlers and songsters, the saga- 
 cious churchwardens knew perfectly well how to 
 secure the fish for which they had baited their 
 hooks : — 
 
 " A full dress private Concert, at the Queen's 
 Concert Rooms, Hanover Square, at the uniform 
 charge of two shillings and sixpence each person." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOKLD. 451 
 
 Such was the substance of the comnumication made 
 to a congregation, the male members of which were, 
 one and all, invited to become stewards for the occa- 
 sion. The appeal was irresistible. Each lady on 
 that occasion would be able to hear something — never 
 mind what — in the way of music ; would be able to 
 see others and be seen herself; and all in full dress, 
 at the Queen's Concert Rooms, Hanover Square, for 
 the small sum of two shillings and sixpence ! Would 
 not such an exhibition, apart from the musical display, 
 be worth all the money ? As for the male part of the 
 audience — they were like those that attended that 
 celebrated dinner, at which all were stewards but the 
 chairman and his deputy. Each therefore had the 
 gratification of seeing his name at the head of the 
 programme, while as many as were disposed to exer- 
 cise their full privilege, might wave their wands of 
 office and display white favors in their coats. Was 
 not this also worth half-a-crown ? The question is 
 answered in the simple fact that every ticket for the 
 full dress musical exhibition was sold long before the 
 exhibition took place. 
 
 The financial success of the entertainment proved 
 most gratifying to the promoters, who were enabled by 
 this, their first musical venture, to benefit their schools 
 to the extent of nearly one hundred pounds ! Since 
 that period a full dress private concert, for the like 
 laudable object, has been an event of almost annual 
 
 H H 2 
 
452 number one; or, 
 
 occurrence — the originators having established the 
 fact that with music and white kids charity may be 
 served by those whose otherwise uncovered hands and 
 uninspired hearts would remain inactive in the good 
 cause. 
 
 Many persons would object to see the cash-box 
 that supplies funds for spiritual instruction or bodily 
 want thus enriched by secular means. For my part, 
 I have no scruples of the kind. The world contains 
 but little of anything that — being tested — would be 
 found entirely free from adulteration. And when the 
 poor and needy cannot get the bread of charity with- 
 out alloy, they should be content to take it as pure as 
 it can be obtained. And when the human heart can 
 only be made charitable by external pressure, it is 
 surely a commendable thing to take its owner to a 
 concert, or to Brighton and back — Sundays excepted 
 — or to any other harmless region, the atmospheric 
 influence of which would effect the desired object, 
 either by curing the patient of a selfish disease, or 
 making him pay for the attempt to do so. 
 
 How often the objections that are raised in refer- 
 ence to the dispositions and doings of strangers or 
 neighbours would be at once silenced by a little self- 
 examination on the part of the objectors. Self- 
 examination is the gentle handmaid to those cha- 
 ritable feelings which sweeten or subdue a bitter 
 thought, and prevent many an unfriendly thrust at 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 453 
 
 others. Brother mortal, look, as I have looked, at 
 home — that is, within the secret chambers of the 
 heart — and take a retrospective view of thy own life, 
 before passing sentence elsewhere. This inward in- 
 spection of all that is registered on the pages of the 
 memory will materially modify, if not entirely arrest 
 judgment on the acts of others. When filled with 
 surprise and disappointment at the failure of the 
 little work I had written for a charitable object, a few 
 moments' reflection proved sufficient to point the 
 arrow at my own heart. I remembered the time 
 when any book on the subject of religion would 
 have been spurned by me in the like manner that my 
 book was now spurned by others. At the time when 
 I was grieved to hear from the lips of an intelligent 
 pew-opener that " there were not many religious 
 people in our church," I soon remembered that a 
 few years ago I attended church chiefly for the pur- 
 pose either of being entertained by powerful declama- 
 tion and brilliant oratory, or excited by the extra- 
 ordinary gestures, remarkable action, or fiery perora- 
 tions of some popular preacher. And when, with a 
 mixed feeling of pleasure and pain, I heard of a 
 " great rush for concert tickets " by an entire congre- 
 gation of christian worshippers, a reference to the 
 mind's memorandum book told me of a period in my 
 own life when a dance or a song would have proved 
 far more attractive either than psalm-books or sermons. 
 
454 number one; or, 
 
 Speaking of self-examination, I would finally 
 observe that every evil, whether in thought, word, or 
 act that has befallen me, through the fallibility of 
 a sinful nature, I attribute entirely to the weakness 
 of my own heart ; but all the good which has been 
 vouchsafed to me through life — through whatever 
 channel it may have passed hither — I can distinctly 
 trace to the protecting providence and guiding hand 
 of God. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 The world again ! How many and great have been 
 the changes that have passed over an already eventful 
 life during the last three years ! To my former expe- 
 rience in the world, and imperfect knowledge of man- 
 kind, at least ten years have been added in less than 
 one-third of that time. At present I can only briefly 
 refer to one or two incidents which — should my life 
 be spared — may be fully embodied at a future period. 
 A large fleet of events, the origin of some of which 
 may be traced to the Antipodes, to America, and to 
 other parts of the globe, have each and all been duly 
 noted, though they are not yet ripe for publication, 
 A few words on one or two points, a mere reference 
 to which may serve as a connecting link between the 
 present and future narrative, must, for the time being, 
 bring the subject to a close. 
 
 The chief feature or object of this work has not — 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. J 55 
 
 like the leading character in a play — been made to 
 dwarf everything except its own self-sufficient and 
 ever-forward image. That human monster, SELF, 
 has at present been faintly shadowed, rather than 
 strongly marked. But recent notes on passing events 
 will, I fear, compel me in any future volume, to give 
 a little more prominence to the principal figure — 
 Number One. Friends — if none beside — know that, 
 in taking the various portraits that appear herein, I 
 have endeavoured to walk in nature's steps, even though 
 I should have failed to re-produce or reflect impres- 
 sions worthy of the originals. NUMBER OXE, 
 both of the first and second class, now confronts me — 
 in my note book — in a variety of forms. As the 
 figures appear, so I will endeavour to present them to 
 the public. "Whether bright and warm as a summer 
 sun, or cold and uninviting as a wintry blast ; whether 
 noble-hearted and generous like a true patriot, or 
 selfish and mean like a false friend, each figure — so 
 far as the ability of the artist will permit — shall be 
 presented in its true colors. Of one thing the painter 
 may speak with certainty — in his own figure will pro- 
 bably be found as many, if not more blemishes than 
 in any other. Of these blemishes the difficulty of 
 restraining what was once a very hasty, and is still an 
 irritable temper will be one. And, be it observed, 
 the present work is not made up merely of imaginary 
 sketches, either of persons or places. Each sketch, 
 
 H H 3 
 
456 NUMBER one; or, 
 
 however feebly or imperfectly drawn, is founded on a 
 living reality. It will be even so — if my life be spared 
 — in a future volume. Among a number of small 
 changes and presentations during a long and varied 
 career, Fortune at an early period in life not only 
 placed in my hand the pen of a hard working and 
 humble author, but she has since that time wheeled 
 me to and fro through the very scenes which — by 
 God's blessing — I have been permitted to describe, 
 My own study has not been some secluded and 
 charming spot, occupied merely for drawing pretty 
 pictures from the imagination. No ; it has simply 
 been a quiet little corner in any locality — where, 
 as time and opportunity offered, I have been 
 able to make a hasty transcript of those scenes in 
 which I had either played, or was then playing a 
 part. 
 
 In a monetary point of view, authorship is, perhaps, 
 more precarious than any other profession, whether 
 scientific or commercial. A merchant or shopkeeper 
 generally finds his business and his income increase 
 with his years. Having, in the spring of his career, 
 worked hard to establish the one, he is enabled, during 
 the summer or autumn of life, to take his repose in 
 the enjoyment of the other. But the stock-in-trade 
 — the brains — of an author cannot, after this fashion, 
 be drawn on or made a bank in the absence or 
 declining years of the proprietor. The revenue 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 457 
 
 arising from literary property cannot be made con- 
 tinuous, except through a regular supply of stock 
 from the mental store of the proprietor. Articles 
 from the hands of a deputy fail to satisfy customers 
 who expect to have their tables furnished direct from 
 the " fountain head." Work, work, work ; there is 
 nothing but work for an author. Whatever may be 
 conveyed to the lofty chambers of his brain from the 
 literary garners of brother authors, or however much 
 he may be indebted to other people for materials with 
 which to shape new ideas, his own mill must be kept 
 continually going, in order to supply him with daily 
 bread therefrom. Yet, there are a few exceptional 
 cases, in which the work of an author becomes like 
 the business of a shop or warehouse that may be con- 
 ducted without the personal superintendence of the 
 original founder. But a work of this kind is usually 
 of a commercial character, while its bearings on some 
 important branch or branches of commerce impart to 
 it a permanent value. In pen-ink-and-paper property 
 there is nothing that bears so near a relationship to 
 a sound banking establishment as a standard work of 
 reference. In its commercial or monetary value, 
 would not the most celebrated or intellectual book that 
 was ever written fall into utter insignificance by side 
 of the London Directory ? If it were possible for 
 the author of the former — if alive — to become sud- 
 denly possessed of the revenue arising from the last 
 
458 NUMBER ONE ; OR, 
 
 named work, he would, no doubt, answer the question 
 in the affirmative. 
 
 An idea on the dry subject of facts and figures had 
 for a considerable period occupied a small place in one 
 corner of my mind. After several unavoidable delays, 
 this idea was partially embodied. A commercial 
 annual of reference which I had projected previous 
 to my illness was subsequently given to the world. 
 Taking into consideration the crude and unfinished 
 state of the first issue, the work proved a decided 
 success; and I deemed myself fortunate in having, 
 as I then thought, laid the foundation stone of a 
 structure from which the founder might derive per- 
 manent benefit. The Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone 
 (Chancellor of the Exchequer) in a kind and con- 
 siderate letter of 20th of March, I860, in which he 
 makes some valuable suggestions for the improvement 
 of the work, consented to become sponsor to the third 
 edition in the following words : — 
 
 " If you think fit to inscribe the next edition to 
 me, you will kindly do me a great honor, and I must 
 always be glad to see it associated with the pursuits 
 in which my family have largely shared." 
 
 But the third edition has not yet made, and will 
 probably never make its appearance. It is no less 
 strange than true that the success of the work was 
 the primary cause of its early suspension. This was 
 occasioned by my introduction into scenes and sub- 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 450 
 
 jects with which I should not otherwise have been 
 concerned. Reference may be made to these things 
 hereafter. At present I will simply observe that since 
 my severe illness, for which I shall never cease to be 
 thankful, I have been ten times happier than I was 
 before, when I was ten times richer. But heavier, 
 far heavier than the worldly losses of an entire life is 
 the domestic blight which has now deprived me of 
 one-half of my own heart. I cannot at this moment 
 speak of the fearful weight of such a blow, except to 
 say that God has given me strength to bear it ; not 
 only to bear it, but to join with the dear departed one 
 in her last prayer that " the Lord would grant her a 
 peaceful passage to eternity." That petition has just 
 been granted. The proclamation of this heavenly 
 truth each sorrowing survivor heard from the lips 
 of the christian voyager, whose last words, as she 
 quitted this earthly shore softly communicated the 
 joyful tidings of — " I go to Jesus." 
 
 Turning the mind for a moment from heaven to 
 earth, let me say in conclusion about half-a-dozen 
 words in keeping with the text on which the subject 
 of this work was started. During the last twelve 
 months my position as amanuensis or secretary to 
 has placed me in personal contact and communi- 
 cation with a large number of the most distinguished 
 personages in the United Kingdom, from the highest 
 downward. This extended knowledge of the human 
 
460 NUMBER ONE. 
 
 race has more strongly than ever confirmed the decla- 
 ration made by Honest John, that ' ' in every station of 
 society, whether in social, commercial, or political life 
 NUMBER ONE is still the leading feature in THE 
 WAY OF THE WORLD." 
 
 END OF VOLUME OXE. 
 
 Xote. — Should the Author' s life be spared, this icork will be continued. 
 
 WARREN HALL AND CO., STEAM PRINTER?, CAMDEN TOWN, LONDON, N.W. 
 
NOTICE. 
 
 Satisfied of the respectability of the EUROPEAN 
 COMPANY, and of the high position of all persons 
 connected with their undertaking, the Author of "NUMBER 
 ONE" has kindly consented to the insertion in his new 
 work of the subjoined PROSPECTUS. No other advertise- 
 ment has been allowed to appear in this volume. 
 

14 DAY USE 
 
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 LOAN DEPT. 
 
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