CENT PER CENT. 
 
 A STORY 
 
" BEAUTIFUL BOULONG ! " 
 Arid the beauties who paced the Pier never moved his heart. 
 
CENT PER CENT, 
 
 A STORY 
 
 rttt^n up0n a §ill Stamp 
 
 BLANCHARD JERROLD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the CHILDREN OF LUTETIA," "SIGNALS OF DISTRESS, 
 
 "at HOME IN PARIS," "CHRONICLES OF THE CRUTCH," 
 
 " TWO LIVES," ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 ii Jiiliifciililliil 
 
 WITH COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 74 & 75, PICCADILLY. 
 
 r ^ // ^irrh^r ^^r^^^,^^ 1 
 
9^5 
 
 PUBLISHER'S NOTE. 
 
 'l^'HE reader may remember the great moDctary 
 panic in the City a few years since, with the 
 outcry that took place almost immediately after 
 against the Bill Discounters of the West End. 
 Letters and articles filled the public journals, and 
 the strongest indignation was expressed against 
 the whole race of " Vampires ^^ — as they were 
 termed in one notorious case. It was at this 
 period of public excitement that the author con- 
 ceived the idea of writing the following story, 
 which, from the recent reports in the public 
 journals — showing the "Cent per Cent^^ system 
 of " accommodation" still to be in full force and 
 vigour — is perhaps as appropriate now as at any 
 former time. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 THE PREACHER AND HIS EXAMPLE 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SIMPLE CHILD 38 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BIT OF PAPER 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A MATCH A PARROT MADE 72 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 THE SPIDER AND THE PLY 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ''BUSINESS WITH MOSS" H'^ 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION 139 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. PvGE 
 
 MR. HENRY PTJRSEY ENTERTAINS THE " SIMPLE CHILD" . 151 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RENEWAL 170 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GAME PROCEEDS 182 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GETTING OUT OF THE WAY 205 
 
 CHAPTER XI T. 
 
 " A MAN IN possession" 222 
 
 CHAPTER XITI. 
 
 BOULOGNE 205 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A FRESH START 253 
 
ILLUSTEATIONS. 
 
 " HEArTIFUL BOULONG ! " 
 
 And the leauties who paced the Pier never moved his heart. 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 THE SIMPLE CHILD. 
 
 Thus was it in the lack pcirlour of ** TJie Scrap of Paper, ^' 
 that the Simple Child gently chaffed, his dear friend Zacha- 
 riah, whilst the minions in the background chuckled slily 
 
 p. 38. 
 THE FIEST QUAEREL. 
 
 *' aS'o, Henry, I can now understand your motives for not 
 wishing me to open your letter? ///" 
 
 ''And pray what discovery have you made. Madam f 
 asked her husband, with an attempt at dignity . . p. 170. 
 
 THE MAN IN POSSESSION. 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Pursey went into her lack parlour and 
 there discovered old Solomon at full length upon the sofa, 
 reading her husband' s pet edition of Byron . . . p. 222. 
 
 WELCOME TO "WHITE CROSS STREET. 
 
 *' Glad to meet you under ^ucli extremely fobvourahle 
 auspices,'^ said the Captain. " Do you intend to make a 
 long stay f 
 
 "/ Aope wo^," replied the hero of this stoi'y . . . p, 250. 
 
CENT PER CENT. 
 
n 
 
CENT PER CENT, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PREACHER AND HIS EXAMPLK 
 
 " For if she will, she will, you may depend on't. 
 And if she wont, she wont, and there's an end on't." 
 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey sent for his only child that 
 he might give him an important piece of parental 
 advice. Mr. Abraham Pursey was, indeed, very 
 fond of giving advice. He was proud and de- 
 lighted whenever his opinion was requested. It 
 mattered not to him what the question might be 
 on which his judgment was required. He liked 
 to be an authority. It was his passion to regulate 
 other people's affairs. There was no man in his 
 neighbourhood who could mind other people's 
 business half so well as he could. He was in the 
 
18 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 front of affairs in his parish, whether the question 
 was the important one of local self-government or 
 the bursting of a water-pipe. As there was no 
 subject so small that it could escape the attention 
 of this redoubtable parochial authority, so there 
 was none so great that it overmatched him ; and 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey imposed, it must be candidly 
 admitted, on many. A man of strong and valiant 
 assertion never wholly fails. He may raise up a 
 band of enemies, but the weak and the sluggish- 
 minded are of his army, and he can do what he 
 hsteth with them. 
 
 Now, it had been the unhappy lot of Abraham 
 Pursey (who was a commission agent in a back 
 lane in the City) to obtain the hand of Miss Mary 
 Reddish. I say it was Abraham's unhappy lot, 
 because the nature of Mary was neither placable, 
 yielding, nor credulous. At the time of her mar- 
 riaire her friends had asked themselves, in asto- 
 nishment, "What on earth she could see in 
 Abraham Pursey ?" while the friends of the bride- 
 groom were friendly enough to be lost in surprise 
 
THE FEEACHER AND HIS EXAMPLE. 19 
 
 at the unaccountable choice Abraham had made. 
 As a young man, Abraham had held a foremost 
 place among his bachelor companions. His speech 
 and his vote decided the questions at their little 
 debating club. Every debate was at its height 
 when Abraham Pursey rose to speak. By his 
 light his friends lit their candles. And so it came 
 to pass, that when Abraham Pursey took unto 
 himself a wife, he had not been schooled for matri- 
 mony, for he had not suffered contradiction. Mary 
 Reddish, it happened, I must repeat, most 
 unfortunately, was not a lady made in the 
 softest feminine mould. It chanced that she in- 
 herited a strong mind (as she took early occa- 
 sion to inform Abraham) from both sides of her 
 family. To complete matters, Mary Reddish 
 had been warned a few days before her mar- 
 riage against indulging her spouse too much, by 
 yielding to his opinions. Some friends of hers 
 had said — 
 
 "My dear, I do believe he is the most self- 
 opiniated man — and you know what men are 
 
 b2 
 
20 CENT FEE CENT. 
 
 generally — the most opiniated on the face of the 
 earth. Once give in to him, and you are a slave for 
 life." 
 
 Miss Mary Eeddish tossed her head and put her 
 wedding-ring on ; and during her wedded life her 
 quick ear never caught the faintest clink of a chain ! 
 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey, an authority to all the 
 world beside, was an humble recipient of advice 
 directly he knocked at his own door. Without, 
 he might continue "to force his opinions down 
 other people's throats," as Mrs. Pursey pleasantly 
 expressed it ; but under the roof for which it was 
 his privilege to pay rent and taxes, he was never 
 allowed to have a voice in the purchase of an egg- 
 cup. Why will little men marry ladies double 
 their size? Mrs. Pursey looked to all muscular 
 intents and purposes the better man of the two. 
 Abraham's enemies said of him that his wife could 
 carry him comfortably in her apron-pocket. A 
 man of Pursey's judgment should have known 
 better. It was not until Henry Pursey, the only 
 child of Abraham and Mary his wife, was ai)- 
 
THE PBEACREB AND SIS EXAMPLE. 21 
 
 preaching manhood, that his father began to find 
 some little pleasure at his own fireside ; for when 
 the solitary suckling of the Pursey tree was of an 
 age to hear goodly counsel, and to have his mind 
 imbued with the settled opinions of his father ; 
 then did Abraham begin to walk lightly home- 
 ward, that he might on winter evenings talk what 
 Mrs. Pursey called "a parcel of rubbish to the 
 child." At home, Mr. Pursey had his own parlour, in 
 which he sat alone, or received a select number of his 
 parochial co-busybodies. Into this sanctum Henry 
 was often beckoned, and, I doubt not, was taught 
 much worldly wisdom that might have been of 
 service to him on his way through the world. As 
 a theorist, Mr. Abraham Pursey had not his equal 
 within a square mile of his residence at Islington ; he 
 was prudence, he was thrift, he was the crafty 
 money-maker, personified. He knew all the City 
 quicksands and guet-a-pens, and traps and swindles; 
 he was master, in the same way, of a perfect 
 political system that would come into force 
 directly his opinions on parliamentary reform, the 
 
22 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 ballot, church-rates, primogeniture, and a few 
 other little questions, were brought into active 
 operation. The parish in which he lived might 
 be the metropolitan model parish at any moment, 
 if the vestry would only carry out the eight or ten 
 propositions he had had the honour of submitting 
 for their approval. It did happen, however — these 
 things will happen — that that mysterious little 
 business of Abraham's, which was carried on in 
 Apple-pie Lane, City, was continually breaking 
 down in the most unaccountable manner. Mr. 
 Abraham Pursey's arguments on the proper way 
 of conducting a business were incontrovertible ; no 
 rational creature could doubt their soundness. 
 And yet there were woe and lamentation more than 
 once in Apple-pie Lane ; and that fine facility for 
 arithmetic, which Mr. Abraham Pursey was known 
 far and wide to possess, had to be exercised for 
 the discovery of the exact number of pence in the 
 pound Mr. Abraham Pursey would be able to pay. 
 Through the rich brain of this gentleman there 
 sailed daily any number of thousands of pounds ; 
 
TEE PREACHER AND HIS EXAMPLE. 23 
 
 he had a ship ever on its way home, that was 
 worked with golden cordage, and that spread in 
 the summer winds sails wrought in India's finest 
 looms. But only the most damaged little cockle- 
 boats ever made to shore from the ship. 
 
 There were certain long strips of paper with a 
 Government stamp at one end of them, which 
 always got in the way of the vessel, clogged the 
 machinery, and broke the golden fans of her 
 wheels. Every man has his weak point, and that 
 of Mr. Abraham Pursey was an indestructible 
 habit of writing his noble autograph across these 
 oblong impediments to the arrival of his ship. He 
 would sit in his dusky office, and, I apprehend, 
 by way of loosening the cords of his great 
 intellect, would amuse himself blowing these bits 
 of paper freely away on the wind. 
 
 Mrs. Pursey had a prosaic way of looking at 
 these peculiarities of her lord and master. She 
 made light of his theories, she scouted his fine 
 phrases, and told him that he would never do any- 
 thing in the world, while he plunged headlong into 
 
U CENT PER CENT. 
 
 every fool's speculation; and thought as lightly of 
 bills as he did of curl-papers. The inexorable 
 logic of facts was brought with crushing weight 
 upon poor Abraham's head. Had he not com- 
 pounded three times ? Would not the furniture 
 have been sold two or three times over ? Would 
 not their very beds have been taken from under 
 them, had not Joseph Reddish, whom lofty Mr. 
 Abraham Pursey was wont to despise for the 
 shallowness of his intelligence, come to their help, 
 and bought them in ? Had they not lived from 
 band to mouth, and could she, Mrs. Pursey, be 
 certain that she would have a meal the next day ? 
 Had any provision been made for their child ? Was 
 Abraham, with all his vanity and pretentiousness, 
 one little bit more before the world than he was 
 when he married ? Nay, he was not so well off; for 
 then he had two little leaseholds in Newington 
 Butts, and now he had the greatest difficulty in 
 scraping the money together to pay the quarter's 
 rent for a poking little hole in Islington. Mrs. Pur- 
 sey would be bound to say that her husband had no 
 
THE PBEACHER AND HIS EXAMPLE. 25 
 
 more idea where the money for the water-rate that 
 was due next week, would come from, than the 
 man in the moon. 
 
 He might talk till he was black in the face, but 
 she was right ; she always had been right, as her 
 mother and grandmother, ay, and her married 
 sisters, had been right before her. Mrs. Pursey 
 informed her husband, from time to time, that 
 everybody was talking about him, and wondered 
 where his money went ; for, although he had 
 seldom a penny he could call his own, he had made 
 money, and plenty, too, in his time. He was a 
 weak dreamer. Mrs. Pursey would by far rather 
 take the tom-cat's opinion than his, any day. It 
 showed what idiots men were that they were led 
 away by him. He could not flatter himself that he 
 had ever bamboozled her. It is true that she 
 had married him ; but then, very young people 
 never know their own minds. 
 
 Now this description of conjugal conversation 
 fell very often indeed on the ear of the hapless 
 Abraham. He winced, and occasionally he boiled 
 
26 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 over with passion ; but as a rule, he sat, a placid 
 martyr, and let the vitriol pour down his face, 
 without making a single exclamation of agony. 
 The reader can easily conceive the comfort 
 Abraham Pursey found in lecturing his son Henry, 
 directly the lad was old enough to listen to him. 
 He revenged himself for the lectures he suffered 
 from his wife, by frequently summoning his child 
 to listen to that wisdom, born of experience, which 
 should make the boy's way through life a path of 
 roses. Henry yawned occasionally, when his 
 father was in the middle of his sermon ; but 
 he was speedily recalled to a sense of the value 
 of the golden words he was treating like so much 
 dross, by a sharp parental box on the ear, which 
 his parent held it to be his bounden duty to bestow 
 upon him. Time came, however, when the boy 
 was too big for cuffing ; this was probably a cur- 
 tailment of the natural enjoyments of Mr. Pursey ; 
 but like a philosopher, he submitted to it as a 
 necessity, and having studied the doctrine of 
 compensation, made up his mind that he might 
 
TEE PBEACEER AND HIS EXAMPLE. 27 
 
 cover the loss of the privilege of blows, by little 
 drams of strong words. So he took to calling Henry, 
 when he found him inattentive to his advice, or 
 disobedient to his orders, names very jarring to ears 
 polite. 
 
 It was on a more than usually important oc- 
 casion that Mr. Abraham Pursey sent for his only 
 child, that he might give him a solemn piece of 
 parental advice. The old gentleman was seated 
 in the very ancient and very greasy leather chair 
 of ample proportions, which formed part of the 
 worldly goods which Mrs. Pursey brought in 
 marriage to her husband, and the like of which she 
 stoutly asserted had never belonged to any member 
 of the Pursey family. Mr. Abraham Pursey 's brows 
 were closely knit, and he was savagely nibbling the 
 corners of an orange bandana handkerchief Affairs 
 had been going very wrong once more in Apple- 
 pie Lane ; the famous ship with golden cordage 
 was drifting to the rocks. I do not know what 
 the speculation was this time ; but all the other 
 speculators had made the harbour, and left only 
 
28 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 poor Abraham Pursey od the raging sea. They 
 were rascals, cutpurses, he shouted above the 
 storm ; but they only leaned over the pier-head, 
 and thinking of the boiled leg of mutton, Avith all 
 the trimmings, which they had secured for them- 
 selves at home, laughed at him, while he battled 
 with the breakers. The forlorn Abraham, as he 
 breasted the boiling sea, thought he caught the 
 grating sound of Mrs. Pursey's voice, cutting with 
 ease through the hurricane ; asking him what 
 business he had there among the breakers; and 
 intimating to him that it would serve him right if 
 he was drowned ! 
 
 " Take a seat, sir," said Abraham, " and shut the 
 door." 
 
 Henry prepared himself for a lecture of more 
 than ordinary length. 
 
 " I hope," Mr. Pursey began, " that you have 
 been punctual at your office, Henry ; and that you 
 have been careful to please your superiors. No 
 man will ever be fit to command who does not 
 know how to obey. Take that, sir, as a rule in 
 
TEE P BE AC HE B AND HIS EXAMPLE. 29 
 
 life. When an order is given to you, execute it at 
 once. It is not your business whether the order 
 be a wise or unwise one. Do you hear me, sir ?" 
 
 Henry dropped a sullen " yes." 
 
 " And pray may I ask," the father continued, 
 " why you don't respond to all this trouble I take 
 in giving you good advice ?" 
 
 " Last time, you told me not to answer you," 
 Henry replied. 
 
 " Did I ? Then you are right, sir, in holding 
 your tongue ; I am glad to hear, for once, that you 
 don't forget my instructions. I am sure there 
 is not another father I know, who would be at 
 half the trouble I am at, to give you the benefit of 
 my worldly experience — experience that I have 
 bought, sir, at a very heavy price, I can tell you. 
 You start, sir, in life, with opportunities, which your 
 father never had. Do vou quite understand me, 
 sirf 
 
 " Quite," answered Henry, swiftly ; being afraid 
 that his father might endeavour to make himself 
 clear, by going again over the old ground. 
 
30 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 " Now, give your best attention to what I am 
 about to say. We have had many conversations 
 together, but none of them have been by half so 
 important as that I am about to have with you. 
 I am about to communicate to you the bitterest 
 fruit of an unhappy man's experience." 
 
 Henry started at the more than usual solemnity 
 his father threw into his naturally impressive 
 voice. 
 
 "Nothing serious has happened, I hope, sir," 
 said Henry. 
 
 His father answered magniloquently. 
 
 " The helm is still in my hand ; the ship is 
 never lost while I remain at the wheel. There is 
 danger, however — I may say imminent danger. 
 It is my painful duty to tell you^ sir, that I am 
 labouring under the misfortune of being a gentle- 
 man. I have put, even with all my great ex- 
 perience about me, too much confidence in my 
 fellow-men ; not that I blame myself for one 
 moment. Understand, sir, that Rothschild, the 
 Barings — the governors of the Bank of England — 
 
THE PBEACEEB AND HIS EXAMPLE. 31 
 
 would have done exactly what I did, for they are 
 gentlemen. In the City, sir, we expect to find 
 gentlemen. With some persons whom I had 
 every reason to regard as men of honour, I entered 
 into a speculation, I may say, of colossal propor- 
 tions. At this very moment your mother ought 
 to be riding in a chariot and pair." 
 
 At this moment the lady in question thrust her 
 head out of the front parlour and fired the fol- 
 lowing small shot at her husband — 
 
 " Mr. Pursey, Mr. Pursey ! do you hear me ? 
 The man called to-day for the water-rates, and 
 says he won't call again for you nor for anybody 
 
 And the front parlour-door was violently 
 slammed. 
 
 Mr. Pursey paused during this interruption, and 
 when it was over, continued with superb calm- 
 ness — 
 
 "Yes, she ought to be driving in her chariot 
 and pair, and you perceive that to-day she was 
 not able to settle even the water-rate. You will 
 
32 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 ask me what I deduce — what is my ioference, from 
 all this. If you were somebody else, and not my 
 son, you might say, ' How do you explain it that 
 a man with all your worldly knowledge and 
 sagacity, and your intuitive insight, is worsted by 
 a set of fellows who intellectually cannot hold a 
 rushlight to you ?' I need not say to you that my 
 answer would be conclusive and triumphant. But 
 you are too young and inexperienced to under- 
 stand the line of argument I should deem it my 
 duty to take. Now look you here, sir. Draw 
 your chair close to the table, and let your attention 
 be riveted upon the few words more I have to 
 address to you." 
 
 Mr. Pursey clutched his son by the arm and 
 spoke rapidly and vehemently, but in an under- 
 tone, lest Mrs. Pursey should hear him in the 
 front parlour. 
 
 " It was a very great transaction indeed in 
 which I engaged myself with these — well, with 
 these — rascals. They drew on me, and I accepted. 
 I drew on them, and they accepted. Nothing 
 
TEE PREACREB AND EIS EXAMPLE. 33 
 
 could be fairer, nothiDg more business-like. We 
 floated our speculation. It rode proudly for a 
 time in the haven of prosperity. I was giving my 
 thoughts to the colour your mother would like for 
 her hvery, when by the merest accident I dis- 
 covered that my co-speculators were not only men 
 of straw, but of very rotten straw indeed. When 
 I went to upbraid them, they had flown, leaving'' 
 (here Mr. Pursey dropped his voice to a hoarse 
 whisper) " your father to weather the storm alone 
 — in other words, to pay the bills. This is not 
 the first nor the second time, understand me, that 
 I have been so robbed and plundered, and all 
 through these " 
 
 Mr. Pursey dashed a roll of very dirty slips 
 of paper upon the table ; he unrolled the bundle, 
 and throwing one of the slips under his son's eyes, 
 said to him grimly between his teeth — 
 
 " And pray, sir, with the other iniquities of the 
 world you have mastered at your tender years, 
 have you learned the meaning of one of these bits 
 of paper ?" 
 
 C 
 
34 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Mr. Pursey folded his arms, and watched the 
 boy. Henry turned the paper over, and read it 
 with mock attention. 
 
 "You need not read the thing through, sir. 
 Do you understand what it is ?" 
 
 " A bill," Henry answered. 
 
 *' Then pray, sir," thundered his father, " where 
 did you see a bill before ?" 
 
 " In our office." 
 
 " And who, pray, among the boys in your office 
 has had the audacity to — to — D3 a bill ?" 
 
 Henry was startled. 
 
 " Answer me in this instant — I insist upon it." 
 
 " I don't remember anybody in particular." 
 
 " Zounds ! then it is a habit — their custom of 
 an afternoon, to do bills !" 
 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey rose and stood over his 
 son, apparently making up his mind which was 
 the most painful death he could inflict upon him. 
 
 " You arrant rascal !" said he. " Do you know 
 that if I thought for an instant you had had the 
 audacity to put your hand to one of these infernal 
 
THE PBEACHER AND HIS EXAMPLE. 35 
 
 pieces of paper — to one of these — well, these in- 
 struments of torture— I would make an example 
 of you— yes, sir, an example ; in other words, I 
 would flay you alive." 
 
 Henry was twenty; he had been, during two 
 years, in the company of men older than himself. 
 It was his father who threatened him, and he did 
 his best to contain himself. But he felt that his 
 patience was fast ebbing away. 
 
 " Not one whole bone would you have in your 
 body, young man/' 
 
 Henry pushed his chair back, and stood de- 
 fiantly, as he had never before ventured to stand 
 in the presence of his father. 
 
 " Sit down, you rascal !" Mr. Pursey roared, and 
 at the same time he clenched his fist. " Cursed is 
 the son that rebels against his father — more, I 
 may say — thrice accursed !" 
 
 " I have always tried to show you, father, the 
 utmost respect. You forget that I am a man, and 
 that my own self-respect will not permit me to 
 receive a blow, even from you. It is a long time, 
 
 c2 
 
CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 remember, since you have even threatened me 
 with this." 
 
 "Viper that I have nursed in — yes, in my 
 hearth !" 
 
 " I shall be glad to know what I have done." 
 
 " You have put your hand to these, or some — 
 yes, some like them. Answer me not — you have." 
 Mr. Abraham affected a tragic manner ; it became 
 him, it was his own intimate opinion, at his 
 debating club. 
 
 " I have not !" Henry firmly answered, looking 
 his father full in the face. 
 
 " Then never do, sir — never do ; and be a 
 happier man than your father ever has been, or 
 ever can be, with all his unprecedented aptitudes 
 for business." 
 
 "Are you going to roar the house down, 
 Abraham T asked Mrs. Pursey, at this moment 
 thrusting her head into the room. " What on 
 earth has the child done now ? Come to supper, 
 Henry ; the beer will be quite flat. At any rate, 
 no more shouting, I beg, Mr. Pursey, at this time 
 
THE PEE ACHE R AND HIS EXAMPLE. 37 
 
 of night. The servant has been gone to bed this 
 half hour; how can she be expected to let the 
 sweeps in to-morrow morning, if you wake her up 
 from her first sleep with your ranting V 
 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey collapsed and sank back 
 in his chair. 
 
 Mrs. Pursey drew Henry away in triumph to 
 supper. 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards the street-door was 
 slammed. 
 
 The mother and son looked at each other. 
 
 "Thieves ! — or your father !" cried Mrs. Pursey. 
 
 Mr. Abraham Pursey 's back parlour was empty, 
 and he never sate again in that old leather chair 
 he had received with his wife. 
 
38 CENT PER CENT, 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 THE SIMPLE CHILD. 
 
 " Man and money a mutual friendship show ; 
 Man makes false money ; money makes man so." 
 
 * Have you seen the Simple Child to-day, any of 
 you ? Somebody has got a word to say to him — 
 Somebody has. He had better come between this 
 and four. I think, if I was his intimate friend, I 
 should advise him." 
 
 The speaker was a man of middle height, with 
 an eye that could " bring down a creditor from the 
 top of an omnibus." He was seated in his own 
 private room. His attire was of the freshest, and was 
 of the most fashionable make. He was in black — 
 the very shiniest black — from head to foot. About 
 his throat and down his swelling bosom were 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 
 
 Tims was it in the back parlour of ^'- The Scrap of Paper ^' that the Simple 
 Child goitly chaffed his dear friend Zachariah, whilst the 7ni/iions in the back- 
 ground chuckled slily. 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 39 
 
 ample folds of black satin cravat. In the centre 
 of the satin, brilliants were clustered like a swarm 
 of fireflies. There were brilliants, too, in the rich 
 company of emeralds and rubies, upon his knotty 
 fingers. Upon the table near him, close by a 
 demi-semiquaver bottle of port, was a snuff-box, 
 with a diamond serpent coiled upon the lid. This 
 superb gentleman, who was anxious to see the 
 Simple Child, kept sipping a glass of port, and 
 swinging some heavy gold eye-glasses idly to and 
 fro in the air. There could be no doubt that the 
 tailor who had equipped this gorgeous individual 
 had done his best for him. The trousers fell with 
 faultless grace upon the instep of the matchless 
 boot ; and there was not an improper crease in 
 the coat. The black clothes were in striking 
 contrast to the finest white linen. No unskilful 
 coiffeur had arranged the glistening raven locks 
 that curved upon the forehead of the carefully pre- 
 pared figure. Sangster has not a better umbrella 
 in his collection than that which leaned negli- 
 gently against the mantelpiece. 
 
40 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 And yet, not the shallowest observer would have 
 mistaken Mr. Zachariah Moss for a gentleman. 
 Mr. Moss's features were somewhat bulbous. He 
 had not a hooked nose, nor had he an undue 
 fulness or redness of lip ; but you were not in the 
 least degree surprised to hear that his name was 
 Zachariah Moss. His splendour, you saw at a 
 glance, was not that of the fop, who may come 
 from a race of kings — it was the exhibition of the 
 vulgarian, who wore his heart, not on his sleeve, 
 but among his diamonds, and in his snuff-box, 
 under the coil of the diamond serpent. The 
 presence of Mr. Moss was one against which you 
 naturally revolted. It was pleasant to look at all 
 his gaudy, overdone splendour, and to see how ill 
 even the least obtrusive fittings of a gentleman sat 
 upon him. Bulwer said of the money-making 
 classes : — " There is the region — the heart of 
 Avarice ; systematized, spreading, rotting, the very 
 fungus and leprosy of social states — suspicion, 
 craft, hypocrisy, servility to the great, oppression 
 to the low, the wax-like mimicry of courtly vices, 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 11 
 
 the hardness of flint to humble woes; thought, 
 feeling, the faculties and impulses of man, all 
 ulcered into one great canker — Gain. These make 
 the general character of the middling class, the 
 unleavened mass of that mediocrity which it is the 
 wisdom of the shallow to applaud." 
 , Gain, and only gain, spoke in the metallic voice, 
 and in the brazen laugh, of Zachariah Moss. His 
 eye never observed ; it could only appraise. In 
 that room where he was sitting, there were hun- 
 dreds of valuable articles of all descriptions — 
 wrecks of homes, on which his fell eye had rested. 
 Even the bottle at his elbow condemned him ; it 
 held exactly the quantity of wine Mr. Moss cared 
 to take at one time ; not a drop more nor a drop 
 less. I think I hear the deviPs laugh that would 
 have vibrated from the greedy throat of Zachariah, 
 had some unsophisticated person suggested to him 
 that it looked somewhat unsociable, nay, a trifle 
 inhuman, to sit with one or two people round him, 
 and drink exactly the quantity he required, 
 without offering a sip to the friend at his elbow ! 
 
42 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Friend ! now you might have given days and 
 nights to an explanation of this word, addressing 
 yourself to Mr. Moss, and you could have drawn 
 him only to one conclusion ; namely, that you 
 were a fool. The man had neither love nor hate 
 in him. The world to him was made up of 
 vultures and of prey, and he rubbed his hands 
 as he thought of it. He had been born one of the 
 birds with lightning eye, and with claws that 
 smote clean through the ribs to the heart. The 
 cries of women and of children in a ruined home, 
 were the natural and the delicious music to his feast. 
 Sweet to him was the anniversary of the day when 
 he tore two brilliants from the pink ears of a 
 weeping victim, and sent them to be set in pins, 
 to deck his bosom of stone. At all points was he 
 armed ; and he laughed at sobs, and smiled over 
 the blood, and uncorked his de mi-semi quaver, 
 while the funeral passed under his windows. 
 Beauty touched him, ay, and ever to her disgrace 
 and death. Never so hideous was he as when he 
 smiled in a woman's face ; for gold was in his looks 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. ^^ 
 
 still, and the buyer was as keen and merciless as 
 the lender 
 
 This was the gentleman who made pressing 
 inquiries for the Simple Child. He addressed 
 himself to three very shady, shabby-looking men, 
 and to one or two young gentlemen of fashionable 
 appearance. The young gentlemen were unfortu- 
 nates, who were about to be caught in the wires 
 of Mr. Moss, and would be compelled to dance 
 daily attendance upon him, until they could pay 
 him principal, interest, and costs. Of the shabby 
 trio, two were scouts who were sent out to make 
 inquiries, or find young gentlemen or old gentle- 
 men, for the matter of that, who wanted money 
 badly. The last was five feet five of shiny 
 dirty wickedness, that was useful, being on the 
 roll of attorneys. Timothy Selph had been 
 unfortunate in every undertaking. He had been 
 sharp enough. His conscience had never been in 
 his way. He was not deficient in audacity. He 
 could sell up a widow, ay, even with Mr. 
 Zachariah Moss himself. But— it is so with some 
 
44 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 men ; everj^thing that he touched, failed. He had 
 been the dupe, not of greater, but of cleverer 
 rogues than himself. He had been at many 
 oyster-feasts, where he had seen all his friends, 
 the convives, eat their fill of fish, leaving him to 
 discuss a plate of shells. He had gone home and 
 gnashed his little teeth ; but somehow, he was 
 always too weak and too little to carry out the 
 vengeance he meditated. And so he fell from 
 bad to worse ; was compelled to give up his ofifices 
 and take his draggled name from the door-post 
 in Dane's Inn, and go touting about for business 
 in the wake of Mr. Zachariah Moss. Moss drove 
 the very Iiardest bargain with him. Tim Selph 
 would have been greatly surprised, and, indeed, 
 would have thought that something was going 
 wrong with Zachariah, had this person shown the 
 least indulgence, or the smallest approach to 
 liberality, in his case. Tim Selph was cast or shot 
 into a dirty second-floor back room, close to Mr. 
 Moss's place of business. A few articles of 
 damaged and dirty furniture were thrown after 
 
THE SIMPLE CSILB. 45 
 
 him, and he was installed as the slave of the bill 
 discounter, with plenty of the very dirtiest work to 
 do. The only bright reflection that lightened the 
 lot of Timothy Selph was, that he was part of a 
 machine that was working with immense success. 
 He became part and parcel of Mr. Zachariah Moss, 
 and took that kind of interest in his success, 
 which the gamekeeper takes in the day's sport of 
 his master. Tim touched hardly a feather of the 
 birds ; but it was brave fun to see them come to 
 the earth like stones, and mark the blood spat- 
 tered over their plumage. He darned his old 
 clothes at night. He crept to his low eating-shop 
 to get his plate of meat. He inked the white rim 
 of his hat, chuckling to think of the way in which 
 downy Zac bagged his bird yesterday. He was 
 a very thirsty soul was Tim ; and it was quite 
 wonderful to see how, on occasions when he 
 had some of Mr. Moss's victims in hand, and 
 they were obliged, in order to propitiate him, to 
 pay for all he consumed in the way of liquid ; it 
 was surprising, I say, to see the quantity five feet 
 
46 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 five could contain. Then he took of the best. 
 Not " fippenny ;" no, no, not gin, by no means. 
 The best was for Tim on these occasions. " Brandy 
 and soda, and the best cigar you have in the 
 house, please, miss," cried Tim Selph, rubbing his 
 dirty little hands together, and contriving to 
 stretch his ill-shorn chin over the pewter bar. 
 
 It was chiefly to Mr. Timothy Selph that Mr. Moss 
 addressed the question about the Simple Child 
 
 " I have not seen him for a couple of days or 
 more," Tim answered, " I've been wondering what's 
 become of him." 
 
 " Have you ?" Mr. Moss responded, meaning to 
 say that it was a very great liberty indeed on the 
 part of Mr. Timothy Selph to afford himself the 
 privilege of wondering at all. "And perhaps, 
 when you ain't been occupied wondering, Mr. 
 Selph, you have attended to the Kensington 
 business I gave you the day before yesterday. 
 Sharp was the word ; don't forget that. You were 
 to serve all three on 'em. Is it done ?" 
 
 " Two are all right," Tim answered, " and I've 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 47 
 
 stuck pretty close to number three, but I shan't 
 be able to get hira before to-morrow morning ; he 
 is gay, and doesn't seem to sleep at home more 
 than twice a week." 
 
 "And Haylebird?" Mr. Moss asked Mr. Selph, 
 pouring his second glass of port from his demi- 
 semiquaver ; *' yesterday was the last day, Have 
 you got the interest ?" 
 
 " It's to come before three o'clock to-day," said 
 Tim. 
 
 " If it don't, go on," curtly answered Mr. Moss, 
 as he glanced round the company with his glass 
 in his hand, seeming to say, " You see here is a 
 glass of very good port, and I intend to drink 
 every drop of it myself." 
 
 Tim intimated, with a nod, that he perfectly 
 understood what Mr. Moss meant by "go on." 
 
 Mr. Moss opened the drawer at his side and 
 looked through about a dozen well-covered bills. 
 
 " See to these to-day, give it every one of them ;" 
 and as Mr. Moss handed the bills to Tim, that he 
 might take down the names upon them, he glance'^ 
 
48 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 keenly at the two young gentlemen who were 
 waiting to speak with him, meaning to intimate 
 to them that this was the way in which he, Mr. 
 Moss, (lid business. 
 
 '* I am sure," he continued, sipping his wine in 
 order to keep up his animal spirits, "I am sure 
 my good-nature will be the ruin of me." 
 
 Tim glanced up at him, but quickly resumed 
 his occupation of copying the names from the bill. 
 
 " What are you looking at, Selph ?" Mr. Moss 
 asked, sharply ; " do you mean to say I'm 'ard- 
 'earted ?" 
 
 " Oh dear, no, sir !" Tim hastily responded ; 
 " nobody could say that." 
 
 " I should think they couldn't. What I say is, 
 give me my interest punctual, and no tricks, and 
 I'm as quiet as a lamb ; but I can't abide tricks, 
 and I wont have 'em, and Mr. Selph knows I wont ; 
 that's why. I say, where's the Simple Child ?" 
 With great resolution of manner Mr. Moss added, 
 " If he don't come, I shall have to fetch him — 
 that's about the size of it/' 
 
TEE SIMPLE CHILD. 49 
 
 Tim was rising to depart. 
 
 " I haven t done, Mr. Selph ;" then with a 
 malicious smile, " I 'ope I ain't keeping you from 
 your other business." Mr. Moss knew, or he would 
 not have troubled himself to make this observation, 
 that Tim Selph was never likely to get a scrap of 
 business, except from himself, again. " When 
 you've made them right," nodding to the list of 
 names in Tim's hand, "just drop round to Sloman's, 
 and tell that obstinate young whipper-snapper that 
 if he likes to make it a hundred-and-forty at two 
 months, he may say so ; and I'd rather risk losing 
 everything than take a penny less, and I wont be 
 worried about the business any more. Just give 
 him to understand, Tim, that he's come to the 
 wrong shop for bouncing. I shall be 'ere till four, 
 and at the ' Bit of Paper' till six or thereabouts ; 
 you'd better look in there and tell me what's 
 done." After a pause — " You can go." 
 
 Mr. Moss then had a few minutes' private con- 
 versation with his two scouts — scurvy, fawning 
 dogs, who followed him into the outer office as 
 
 D 
 
60 CJENT PER CENT. 
 
 two hounds will follow a man with a whip in his 
 hand. 
 
 The two young gentlemen who were left in Mr. 
 Moss's private room, had an opportunity of ex- 
 changing a few words. 
 
 " This is a rum place.'* 
 
 " Don't like the look of it, I must say." 
 
 " The old blackguard's as sharp as needles." 
 
 « Sharper." 
 
 " Shouldn't like to get into his hands." 
 
 " Nor one of them." 
 
 *' He'll charge some awful price, you'll see.** 
 
 " Well, this must be our first and last transaction 
 with him." 
 
 " It's ruin, you know." 
 
 " Of course it is, if you keep on with it ; but we 
 must take care it doesn't happen again." 
 
 « Rather." 
 
 " We'll take no wine or any of that trash, you 
 know." 
 
 " No ; let him charge his interest, and be 
 d d." 
 
TSE SIMPLE CHILD. 
 
 "Bank of England rate multiplied by ten, I 
 
 suppose T 
 
 " Somewhere about that." 
 
 " Did you ever see such a get-up ?" 
 
 " How Leech would have touched him off!'' 
 
 **Did you notice that poor little devil, who 
 
 seemed to be dressed in cobwebs, and whom he 
 
 called Selph, — with his red nose and his white 
 
 lips ? Why, the crossing-sweepers must look down 
 
 upon him." 
 
 " Poor little brute ! If there's any truth in the 
 
 transmigration of souls, his must have come out of 
 
 a door-mat." 
 
 " Yes ; and who's the Simple Child, I wonder ?" 
 
 " A bird not easily caught, I'll warrant." 
 
 Mr. Moss returned to his private room, and 
 
 announced that he was at the disposition of the 
 
 young gentlemen. 
 
 The elder one declared, with some diffidence, 
 
 that he came on a slight matter of business, and 
 
 that he had been recommended to Mr. Moss by 
 
 Mr. Julius Macfum. 
 
 D 2 
 
52 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 " You don't want any money, I hope ?" Mr. Moss 
 interrupted, draining the last of the port from his 
 little bottle. 
 
 " Well — yes, we do," said the spokesman of the 
 two young gentlemen, a little tremulously; "I 
 confess that that was the object of our visit." 
 
 A pitiful smile — it was quite a business one — 
 broke over the features of Mr. Moss. 
 
 He rose from his seat, and leaning against his 
 mantelpiece, slowly lit a cigar, 
 
 " And so Mr. Macfum really sent you to me for 
 money — in these times, when nobody has got any 
 money ? Things never were as they are now, in all 
 my experience ; I'm quite in a corner, myself." 
 
 As these latter words fell from the lips of Mr. 
 Moss, the two young gentlemen whom he addressed 
 plainly heard the rich clink of plentiful gold in his 
 pocket. He appeared to emphasize each word by 
 dropping a sovereign upon the rest at the bottom. 
 
 " Nobody pays me, not even my interest.'' 
 
 " I assure you, Mr. Moss, you need labour under 
 no apprehension in this transaction," said the 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 53 
 
 spokesman of the young men; "the accident 
 which brings us to you is not likely to occur again, 
 and we shall be quite prepared to meet our bill 
 when it becomes due." 
 
 "You are very young gentlemen," Mr. Moss 
 answered, shaking his wise head, " and you are 
 full of confidence, and would, I have not the least 
 doubt, be ready with your money when the bill 
 came to maturity ; but even with Mr. Macfum's 
 introduction I really cannot oblige you just now. I 
 don't ask you what you want the money for ; but 
 unless it is of vital importance to you, I should 
 strongly advise you not to endeavour to raise it at 
 such a time as this, — you would pay through the 
 nose for it anywhere. If I had the money that's 
 owing to me, I could make my fortune. Lord 
 Helter of Skelter was here yesterday with first- 
 class security, but I could do nothing for him. 
 How much do you want ?" 
 
 " Forty pounds," was the answer. 
 
 A low whistle expressed the astonishment of 
 Mr. Zachariah Moss. 
 
54 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 " That quite puts an end to fbe business. Forty 
 pounds ! And did Mr. Macfum know the amount 
 you required ?" 
 
 « He did." 
 
 "And he sent you here, with the present rate 
 of discount in the City ?" 
 
 "He told us that if we were prepared to pay 
 your price, you would do it for us." 
 
 "He is very good," Mr. Moss answered, sarcas- 
 tically. "Did he give you any idea of what he 
 was pleased to call my price ?" 
 
 " I think," said the spokesman of the two, " he 
 mentioned about five or six pounds." 
 
 Mr. Moss shook his head, and answered — 
 
 "It's not to be done, young gentleman — don't 
 take my word for it, try somewhere else — but I 
 tell you it's not to be done. Not that I could do 
 it just now at any price, understand ; but I'm only 
 telling you, that even if I had the money I could 
 not afford to do it, taking all things into consider- 
 ation, at the price you mention. I know it's 
 heavy ; but (graciously smiling — a strict matter 
 
THE SIMPLE CHILD. 55 
 
 of business) I am neither governor nor deputy- 
 governor of the Bank of England. Neither of 
 you young gentlemen are, I presume, house- 
 holders r 
 
 Neither were householders. 
 
 " Then what kind of security have you that this 
 money would be paid if I should be able to obtain 
 it for you T 
 
 The young gentleman replied that they were 
 both civil servants of the Crown, and were to be 
 found any day at Somerset House. 
 
 "Ha!" cried Mr. Moss, "Government clerks." 
 Then with a very knowing look, " Have you many 
 more of these bits of paper flying about ? How 
 many, at a rough guess ?" 
 
 The two young gentlemen replied, with great 
 energy, that the bill which they offered to Mr. 
 Moss was the only one bearing their signatures in 
 existence. After a pause — 
 
 "Now I am very sorry I have taken up your 
 time and detained you so long, because I don't see 
 much chance of my being of any use to you; but 
 
56 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 if you will call to-morrow, at half-past four, I shall 
 be able to give you a decided answer. Only don't 
 talk about five or six pounds — that is perfectly 
 ridiculous. You say you must have the money V* 
 
 The speaker of the two young men said — 
 
 " It is of the most vital importance to us," and 
 his lip quivered as he spoke — " of the most vital 
 importance," he repeated, " that we should have it 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Then when you come to-morrow make up 
 your minds as to the utmost you will give, only 
 don't blame me if the terms are hard. All I 
 can say is, that 111 do my best for you. Good 
 day!" 
 
 When the door had closed upon the two young 
 clerks, Mr. Zachariah Moss drew down his waist- 
 coat, adjusted the ample folds of his stock, and 
 with an airy and pleased manner took up his 
 shiny hat and his thinnest of thin umbrellas. As 
 he covered himself daintily before a toilet-glass in 
 the corner of his room, and coyly touched his 
 whiskers with a little ivory brush that had a 
 
THE SUIT LB CHILD. 57 
 
 coronet engraved on the back of it, he muttered 
 to himself — 
 
 ''Now where is the Simple Child? He is 
 forgetting his Zac. Those are young birds— very 
 young, and not a feather of them has been turned 
 yet ; but I must have a talk with Tim, if the little 
 beast is sober, to-night. 'Tvvont do to have too 
 much business in one office. I don't want them 
 newspapers down upon me again, with their fine 
 writing. It spoils business, though I pretend it 
 doesn't Now, where can the Simple 
 
 Child be r 
 
 Pondering this perplexing question, Mr. Zacha- 
 riah Moss passed into his outer office. While he 
 was addressing a few angry words, by way of 
 good-night, to his poor lean clerk ; a tall gentle- 
 man of military appearance, carrying a fine exhi- 
 bition of whiskers and moustache on his face, and 
 wearing a glass in the corner of his right eye, came 
 briskly into the office, humming a lively air. Mr. 
 Moss grunted his surliest grunt, then growled — 
 
 " I have been waiting here all day long for you." 
 
58 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " What, Moss, my boy !" chirped the military 
 gentleman, familiarly passing his arm through 
 that of the usurer — "you're not angry with the 
 Simple Child r 
 
 And the two sallied orth through the dismal 
 Inn-square. 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BIT OF PAPER. 
 
 " All those wlio do but rob and steal enough, 
 Are punishment and court-of-justice proof." 
 
 Sam Butlee. 
 
 The " Old Fox" was a tavern of a very peculiar 
 character. The landlord did an excellent business 
 with a vast number of customers, nine-tenths of 
 whom were, in some way, connected with the pro- 
 fession of bill-discounting. Does the simple reader 
 imaofine that the beneficent individual who cashes 
 a bill, at something between sixty per cent and 
 cent per cent does no good whatever to his fellow- 
 creatures, and only a great deal of harm to one of 
 them ? The truth is that he scatters benefits far 
 and wide. In the first place, he who gets money 
 at a reckless rate, generally spends it recklessly; 
 
60 CENT FEE CENT. 
 
 he has hardly touched the money before he calls 
 for a bottle of champagne. He who journeyed in 
 an omnibus yesterday, goes off in a hansom cab 
 to-day. He dines richly, who yesterday was con- 
 tent with a mutton chop ; he bets boldly; he 
 goes in a drag to the races ; he takes a fancy to 
 a new breastpin ; he must have a new hat. 
 Hfii-e are benefits which are scattered wide upon 
 society ; even the Government is helped, by the 
 bill-stamp. But the good the bill-discounter does, 
 cannot be said to be limited to extravagant ex- 
 penditure, and consequent increase of trade — 
 society owes him other debts of gratitude. He is 
 an important supporter of the legal profession — 
 nay, so valuable is he to this profession, that 
 certain wise-heads have deemed it prudent to get 
 into his books. Barristers have been known to 
 discount at fifty per cent, in order to compel the 
 discounter to give them briefs, as the only means 
 of getting his money back. So indispensable did 
 Mr. Zachariah Moss deem a solicitor to the proper 
 and energetic pursuance of a bill-discounter's pro- 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. 61 
 
 fession, that, as we have seen, he took unto him- 
 self that little blot on his calling, Timothy Selpb. 
 The solicitors and tradesmen are not the only 
 people whose debt of gratitude is large to the 
 discounter of bills. Without him, where would be 
 the appraisers, and the auctioneers of household 
 furniture, and the sheriff's officers, and the sheriffs 
 officers' men, and the buyers of extraordinary bar- 
 gains? What would become of all those poor, 
 lean, weak wretches, wh o hover, like cats, about a 
 bill-stamp — each getting a nibble at it? Where 
 would be those shabby, bibulous frequenters of 
 bar-parlours, and hangers about dusty offices in 
 rotten buildings, who whine for their little per- 
 quisite on every transaction 
 
 A visit to the " Old Fox" will let the curious 
 reader more completely behind the scenes of 
 Mr. Zachariah Moss's profession than he could 
 possibly be after the most elaborate explanatory 
 key. 
 
 In a lane of a quiet street by the Strand, may 
 be seen the sign of the " Old Fox." It is a very 
 
62 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 ancient sign, and we are told that in the last cen- 
 tury some very notable and gentlemanly criminals 
 indeed, were in the habit of using the house. 
 
 " Ay," the Simple Child would remark, " and 
 how the house has degenerated since those days !" 
 
 It was a dark place ; and in the parlour, behind 
 the bar, there were very few days in the year it 
 was possible to read without the help of a jet of 
 gas. In this bar-parlour, which was decorated 
 with a few sporting prints that appeared to have 
 been beeswaxed — and with, in one corner upon a 
 shelf, a goodly array of punch-bowls; Mr. Zachariah 
 Moss was in the habit of spending the greater part 
 of his evenings. The old walnut-wood armchair 
 by the fire, was the throne in which he sat to 
 receive his subjects. The landlord and his wife 
 treated him with the utmost deference. They 
 would not have given his armchair up for an hour 
 to a prince of the blood, so great was the custom 
 he brought to the "Old Fox." His retainers 
 swarmed both in front of and behind the bar. 
 They consumed the cheapest and the most expen- 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. 63 
 
 sive liquids. He made his debtor order cham- 
 pagne, while his cabman drank dog's-nose. Some 
 hang-dog rascals in his following munched bread 
 and cheese in a corner, while many a gentleman's 
 cab was at the corner of the street, and the gentle- 
 man was in that same parlour of the " Old Fox," 
 beseeching the mercy of Zachariah Moss. As 
 Zachariah's fine birds came one by one out of the 
 parlour, they were closely scanned by the groups 
 skulking before the bar — with Tim Selph and the 
 two scouts at the head of them. Occasionally 
 Tim was called into the parlour to settle some 
 knotty point of law, or to witness something ; or, 
 in short, to do anything that Mr. Moss wanted 
 him to do. And when he had fulfilled what was 
 required of him, he was peremptorily dismissed 
 beyond the bar, to answer questions and obtain 
 gratuitous drinks from his master's clients, who 
 were waiting their turn. It was in the nature of 
 Mr. Moss to inspire a certain kind of dread in his 
 fellow-men ; he was a rock against which they 
 vainly beat. They could not appeal to his sym- 
 
64 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 pathies, for he had none ; they could exact no 
 groat from his compassion, for he had never 
 known what compassion meant. Wliile they 
 trembled, and pleaded, and implored — he drank, 
 and smoked, and grimly joked. If he accorded a 
 slight grace to one, it was on a condition that 
 tended to his own comfort or indulgence. He 
 would cash a bill, for instance, for a man on con- 
 dition that he went to the Derby with him, or 
 would have what he called a " spree" for a couple 
 of days at Brighton, with him 
 
 " Order a couple of champagne, old fellow," he 
 would say to another, " and it shall stand over till 
 Monday at four." 
 
 To a third he would observe — 
 
 " You are always swaggering about your cigars, 
 just bring us a box ; and then the governor " — 
 meaning himself — " will see what he can do for 
 you." 
 
 Everybody must minister to his comfort. The 
 poor wretch who had paid him his debt thrice 
 over, and still owed it him with costs, must order 
 
TEE BIT OF FAFER 65 
 
 sherry for him. He levied upon the poorest as 
 upon the richest. He would see his careworn 
 creditors spend their last shilling to buy a cio-ar 
 for him ; and he would enjoy the cigar the more, 
 having exercised his power over a creditor's last 
 shilling. He plumed himself on his mercilessness 
 when the day's business was done, and he had one 
 or two choice spirits about him in the parlour. He 
 would recount the cunning deeds of his early time, 
 and how, as he described it, he had "bested" 
 divers of the most cunning men about town. As 
 he had no compunction, and no care whatever for 
 men's opinion about him, public opinion troubled 
 him not at all — while its power did not affect his 
 profits. He had made many memorable and 
 slashing retorts to counsel, who had cross-ques- 
 tioned him on a bill-discounting trial. He treated 
 a threat of committal for contempt as somethinor 
 no man need dread, who had got into the witness- 
 box provided with his tooth-brush and his shavino- 
 bag. He enjoyed a good laugh at his own au- 
 dacity and heartlessness \ and if he ever liked one 
 
66 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 person in the world better tlian another, that 
 person was the Simple Child — the Simple Child 
 being the individual who lavished the most un- 
 sparing abuse upon him, and tried to sting him 
 every hour with a sarcasm. These thrusts were 
 to him only so many proofs of his own might. 
 He parried them, and showed that there was not a 
 dent upon his shield. The weightiest lance could 
 not raise his skin. 
 
 There were certain mysterious reasons why the 
 Simple Child was not completely in the power of 
 Zachariah Moss. The Child was useful to the 
 usurer in some way, albeit he pretended to grind 
 down Mr. Moss, and made a boast of getting the 
 better of him on many occasions. There was a 
 lively humour, moreover, about the Child, and a 
 light and free-and-easy way of doing the most 
 serious business, — and of treating the most serious 
 circumstances, that had an inexpressible charm for 
 Zachariah. The Simple Child was, in fact, the life 
 and soul of the " Old Fox ;" he was the aristocrat, 
 the swell of the bar-parlour, who seemed to link 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. 67 
 
 its shady and coarse set with divers fast gentlemen 
 of the Upper Ten Thousand. He was happy at 
 nicknames. It was he who had re-christened the 
 " Old Fox/'' calling it, in honour of the business on 
 which most of the customers met there, " The Bit 
 of Paper." Sometimes he came in a dashing cab 
 with Lord Helter ; at others he tripped lightly in, 
 borrowing a half-crown over the bar to pay for 
 what he called "the humble growler." He could 
 sing a lively song on great occasions, when an 
 important discount had been effected, on the con- 
 dition that two bowls of punch should be ordered. 
 When such festivities took place, the programme 
 invariably included a passage of arms between 
 the Simple Child and Mr. Zachariah Moss. The 
 latter obtained nearly all the laughter, for reasons 
 that arc obvious : the audience were one and all 
 his debtors ; but the Simple Child took this in 
 good part, knowing that in their heart of hearts 
 the hypocritical supporters of his adversary were 
 on his side. 
 
 " Now, when you go to bed, Zac," the Simple 
 
 e2 
 
68 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 Child would begin, " and you ve put the light out, 
 and you re left alone with yourself in the dark, do 
 no unpleasant thoughts come into your mind? 
 Do you never think of the writs you have served, 
 and the people you have sold up ; of the young 
 men you have ruined, and of the ill-gotten gains 
 on which you live V 
 
 " Bless your soul, no, Child, not a bit of it ; 
 sometimes it occurs to me what a fool I've been in 
 letting that there Simple Child off so easy, and I 
 feel inclined to punch my own head, thinking 
 what a good-natured fellow I am to all of you." 
 
 " I never see you on Sunday, Zac ; I suppose 
 you're at church all day. At first, I did not know 
 what to do with myself without you ; at last, a 
 good idea struck me — I spend my Sunday after- 
 noons in the Zoological Gardens. I asked the 
 keeper which was the most cruel and unforgiving 
 and untameable animal in his collection. ^The 
 Polar Bear,' said he. ' Then,' said I, ' be good 
 enough to put me a chair opposite his den exactly 
 at three o'clock every Sunday afternoon.' And 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. i69 
 
 now I never miss you ; for while I sit before that 
 bloodthirsty animal, and watch his cautious move- 
 ments, and his wicked eye, and his horribly sharp 
 teeth, I can almost fancy I'm with my Zac. If 
 he w^ould only smoke, the illusion would be perfect. 
 He must be some relative, Zac ; some sprig of 
 your tree must have gone out with one of the 
 Arctic expeditions, and have come back trans- 
 mogrified into a bear ! Why, didn't he, when a 
 good Christian offered him a bun one day, take 
 two of the good Christian's fingers with it ? ]Ie 
 must be a Moss, my boy ; that little incident is 
 quite proof enough to my mind." 
 
 " Now I daresay you think that very clever, 
 you do, Simple Child, but it don't wash for Zac 
 Moss, because he happens to be able to prove a 
 direct descent from the Gazelle family. I should 
 like to hear the Simple Child prove a direct 
 descent from anything — that was respectable. A 
 nice lot you sent me to-day." 
 
 This diversion from the ordinary elegant con- 
 versation was made on the evening of the day 
 
70 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 when the two young Somerset House clerks had 
 called upon Mr. Moss. 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you 
 ought. They can't muster six-and-thirty years 
 between 'em ; picking up little children like that. 
 We shall have 'em — folks are so acute now-a-days 
 — accepting and endorsing in long clothes before 
 long. They was as timid as rabbits in the boa-con- 
 strictor's cage. I was grieved to see 'em," Mr. Moss 
 added, putting on a humorous counterfeit of woe. 
 
 The Simple Child answered — 
 
 "When that old vagabond was taken up last 
 week for skinning cats alive at Bermondsey, what 
 did he say to the magistrate ? Why, that he were 
 very sorry for the cats, but it were his profession 
 to skin them, and that were the way he'd been 
 taught to get his living." 
 
 The Simple Child's retort threw Mr. Zachariah 
 Moss into a violent fit of laughter, and he insisted 
 that some one of the party should at once order 
 another bowl of punch, that they might drink the 
 health of the Bermondsey professional. 
 
THE BIT OF PAPER. 71 
 
 " Come, Mother Barleycorn," cried Zachariah 
 Moss. " One of these boys — they'll settle it 
 amongst 'em — wants another bowl of that there 
 bad punch of yours, jest to see how much they 
 may take without killing themselves ; and mind, 
 Mrs. Barleycorn, the ladle with the Queen Anne's 
 sovereign in it, if you love me. And tell Barley- 
 corn, with my best respects, that if he doesn't 
 weaze nor cough for the next five minutes, perhaps 
 he shall have a drop." Then leering with mock 
 politeness towards the Simple Child, Mr. Moss 
 added, " Perhaps Mrs. Barleycorn may put it down 
 to the account of Julius Macfum, Esq." 
 
 " And perhaps," the Simple Child replied, " the 
 thirsty Polar Bear will just give another glance 
 round the room, and make a plunge at another 
 victim, for J. M. declines, with many thanks and 
 apologies." 
 
72 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A MATCH A PARROT MADE. 
 
 " He might have looked a little higher." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 The disappearance of Mr. Abraham Pursey 
 created, it was said in the local paper, " great con- 
 sternation in the neighbourhood." All the friends 
 of Mrs. Pursey gathered about this lady, and made 
 speeches to her which tbey severally considered 
 suitable to the melancholy occasion. But these 
 expressions of sympathy were, it must be confessed, 
 thrown away upon the bereaved Mrs. Pursey. 
 She was not slow in expressing an opinion that 
 she was quite able to take care of herself, and that 
 the disappearance of Mr. Abraham was at once a 
 relief to her mind and her pocket. 
 
A MATCH A PARROT MADE. 73 
 
 "What a blessing it was," she said, "that the 
 little bit of money her Aunt Reddish had left her 
 had been securely and firmly settled upon herself ! 
 Abraham, with his idiotic dreams about thousands 
 and tens of thousands, had been pleased to look 
 down upon her snug hundred a year with contempt. 
 It was just like men ; they were always looking 
 miles a-head of them, and stumbling over a stone 
 that was under their nose. Islington was too 
 small for Mr. Abraham Pursey, of course it was. 
 I shouldn't think he'd find America big enough to 
 hold him. But he'll do there ; I've no fear about 
 him. His pompous sentences and grand manner, 
 and his dreams about millions will just suit the 
 Yankees. He'll get up a scheme for throwing a 
 bridge across the Atlantic, or for stopping the 
 falls of Niagara, or, I shouldn't wonder, for lending 
 a few trifling millions to the government, when he 
 hasn't got money enough in his pocket to pay for 
 the postage of his offer. Yes, America's the place 
 for Mr. Abraham Pursey, and I'm very glad he's 
 gone there — a good riddance." 
 
7i CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Mrs. Pursey took into lier confidence all the 
 Reddishes she could muster. She granted this, 
 that one good thing had happened through her 
 husband's fondness for playing the busybody and 
 the important gentleman. Being the chairman of 
 the most important Radical Committee in the 
 borough, who had gone purple in the face on 
 many platforms in favour of the leading sitting 
 member, he had established a strong claim on this 
 gentleman's patronage and influence. The mem- 
 ber discharged his debt of obligation by giving 
 the busy Abraham a clerkship in Somerset House 
 for his son. The wounded pride of the Reddish 
 family was somewhat soothed by the reflection 
 that Mrs. Abraham Pursey's only child was a civil 
 servant of the Crown. Mr. Pursey had been able 
 by some accident to do one good thing in his life, 
 and they hoped he might never come back again 
 to spoil it. They one and all begged Mr. Henry 
 Pursey to remember that the Reddish blood ran 
 in his veins, and that it behoved him to act up 
 to the obligations of his descent. He was to 
 
A MATCH A PARROT MADE. 75 
 
 choose his friends with care, and to cultivate the 
 acquaintance, in his office, of the young gentlemen 
 who would be likely to carry him into the best 
 society. So might he make a good marriage, and 
 almost raise the Pursey family to the level of the 
 Reddishes. 
 
 Mr. Henry Pursey, however, albeit a very pru- 
 dent and quiet young gentleman, was one who 
 had a very strong will of his own. His mother 
 said he must have inherited it from his father. 
 Now, while his father was at home he felt that he 
 was still a child in leading-strings. Both his 
 parents treated him with the authority the master 
 exercises over his slave. It was for his own orood, 
 they said, that he was cuffed and lectured. It 
 was their love that directed the rod, and their 
 affection that prescribed the bread-and-water. 
 When Mr. Abraham Pursey on a certain memor- 
 able night in the Pursey annals which I have 
 already described, suddenly left his home, his wife, 
 his child, and his creditors, and, as he said in a 
 letter, " went across the stormy billows in search 
 
76 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 of better fortune," Henry was not inconsolable. 
 He even felt a relief — a feeling something akin to 
 that which the convict must feel when the chain 
 is knocked from his leg. As he walked to his 
 office in the morning, he felt a lightness, a spring 
 about him. Suppose he went home at nine o'clock 
 instead of half-past five — who was to thunder re- 
 monstrances and threats at him now ? His mother 
 was strict^ and would talk enough, but he could 
 manage her. At any rate, he was not now under 
 the authority of two people, each of whom insisted 
 upon timeing him, and feeding him, and putting 
 him to bed ; of regulating his likes and dislikes ; 
 and of making him account for every sixpence he 
 received. No ; Mr. Henry Pursey did not acutely 
 feel the departure of his unfortunate parent for 
 the Western World 
 
 There was, indeed, a certain tender reason why 
 the young gentleman should feel relieved by his 
 father's removal from the scene. He quite agreed 
 with his Reddish relatives, that he should do 
 all in his power to elevate himself in society, and 
 
A MATCH A PABEOT MADE, 77 
 
 he deemed almost any means proper and welcome, 
 save and except always matrimonial means. He 
 held it to be shabby and cowardly in a man to 
 sneak into good society at the skirts of a wife. 
 And for these reasons. 
 
 It happened in Charlotte Street, Bedford 
 Square. It would be difficult to match this street 
 in all London for absolute hopeless dulness and 
 cloudiness. A bird played the leading part 
 in the adventure, and became the unconscious 
 centre of a little domestic drama. I will not 
 venture to say whether in the long run a certain 
 couple will bless his memorj^, or whether they 
 have already felt an occasional desire to pluck 
 every shining feather from his wings. The bird 
 was a parrot. If ever parrot enjoyed himself in 
 this vale of tears, that bird was Miss Caddyson's 
 pet — Vacarme. He never deserved half the 
 attention that was lavished upon him : this much 
 must be said of him, although he has gone the way 
 of all parrots. Master Vacarme was born with a 
 silver chain round his leg. He had a splendid time 
 
78 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 of it. That sidelong glance of his rested on every 
 delicacy of the season, desired by parrots. The un- 
 conscionable rogue would be surly and stick out his 
 feathers, ay, even when perched upon a fair hand ; 
 for which, as Mr. Henry Pursey once prettily put 
 it, in a letter to Miss Caddyson, '' monarchs would 
 have given their crowns.'' He was a bird gaudier 
 than the advertising doctor's footman, two doors 
 off; and for a voice, why, his was gruffer than that 
 of the gin-soaked linkman outside. Surly Yacarme 
 answered with a grunt, when Miss Caddyson 
 called him the most beautiful of birds. The time 
 he allotted for screaming and imitating cats 
 (gracious parts in which he excelled) was, when 
 there was anybody ill in the house. The day 
 Miss Caddyson's mother was buried, Yacarme 
 was laughing enough to break his wings. Miss 
 Caddyson said he could drone the "Dead March 
 in Saul," he was so clever. Nobody ever heard 
 him attempt it, save on the morning when Miss 
 Caddyson's cousin was married from her uncle's 
 house. Yacarme is dead now, and I confess that 
 
A MATCS A PARROT 3IADE. 79 
 
 I have looked at him under his glass case with 
 tolerable resignation. The brute had no education ; 
 he could only make his mark on your finger in his 
 palmiest days. No descendant was this vulgarian 
 of the parrot of Cardinal Ascanius^ who could say 
 the Creed. Yet Miss Caddyson loved him. When 
 he snapped her tortoiseshell-comb in half, she only 
 laughed, and gave him the fellow one to play with. 
 Nobody in the house believed for one moment 
 that he had the faintest regard for her. Even the 
 cook found him out for a hypocrite and a charlatan, 
 who just cared for his Indian corn and nothing 
 more. She said to the housemaid that Vacarme 
 was " the worst-behaved bird she had ever seen. 
 What on hearth do they mean by calling the beast 
 Vacarme, Mary ?" 
 
 Yet, in his way, Vacarme was the hero of a 
 story. He was a sensation parrot. He became 
 the talk of his neighbourhood. I venture to hold 
 that he was none the better for that. Why 
 couldn't he remain content in his proper place ? 
 Every whim of his was met. He had more than 
 
80 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 his deserts. He deserved a place on the public 
 walk iQ the Zoological Gardens, and to be teazed 
 by every sixpenny visitor ; not to be waited on in 
 a lady's chamber. His was the vanity of vulgar 
 minds. He must be the observed of all observers. 
 It was not enough for him that a sweet, dark-eyed 
 lady tended him, and spoke caressing words to 
 him, in a voice rich in melody as silver bells 
 touched by gentle hands — he must be remarked 
 by the butcher's boy and the passing cabman. 
 This vulgar taste for notoriety led him on a certain 
 summer's afternoon, between four and five o'clock, 
 to escape from his lady's chamber, and to make an 
 excursion outside the house, to the infinite amuse- 
 ment of the passers-by, and to the exceeding anger 
 of the sparrows. It chanced that while Yacarme 
 was pirouetting, and screaming, and capering, 
 and baffling all attempts to catch him, Mr. Henry 
 Pursey passed down the street on his way from the 
 office to Islington. He saw Miss Caddyson's 
 distress of mind; and, like a gallant gentleman 
 that he was, he resolved, at the risk of spoiling his 
 
A MATCS A PABBOT MADE. 81 
 
 gloves, and of considerably damaging a new suit of 
 clothes, to restore Vacarme to the bosom of his 
 affrighted mistress. The task was not an easy 
 one, but Mr. Henry Pursey accomplished it. Miss 
 Caddyson beaming her acknowledgments the 
 while over the parlour-blind. The bird was not 
 secured until it had once or twice plunged its beak 
 deeply in the flesh of its captor's hands. The 
 expression of Miss Caddyson when she saw the 
 blood flow, was one of deep distress. The servant 
 at the door was begged to request the very kind 
 gentleman to walk in, and bathe and arrange the 
 wounds the savage bird had made. It happened 
 that fere and mere Caddyson were away from 
 home that day. Mr. Henry Pursey made light of 
 his wounds of course, but he was persuaded to 
 bathe them, and cover them with plaster. While 
 these wounds were healing, another was opening in 
 the heart of Henry Pursey. Of course he took 
 care, on the morrow of the accident which had 
 given him the felicity of meeting Miss Caddyson, 
 to pass down Charlotte-street on his way home 
 
 F 
 
CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 from the office. Miss Caddyson's father v/as at 
 home then, and, as he passed, sent the servant out 
 to beg him to step in for a moment, that he might 
 have the pleasure of thanking him for the capture 
 of Vacarme. 
 
 Mr. Caddyson was a stout, red -faced, little 
 gentleman, with two or three tufted islets of snow 
 dotted picturesquely about the broad, red expanse 
 of bald head. He was a merry old gentleman, 
 quick of speech, and sharp of manner. 
 
 " I am delighted, sir," he said to Henry Pursey, 
 " to seize this opportunity of thanking you per- 
 sonally for the great service you did my daughter 
 yesterday. I hope you will do me the favour of 
 taking a glass of wine with me. Pray be seated." 
 
 And so Henry Pursey's footing was made in the 
 house of Mr. Caddyson. It would be impossible 
 in all London to find a more genteel family than 
 the Caddysons. But they were not rich; very 
 far from that. Their house was as gloomy as the 
 street in w^hich it was situated. The furniture 
 appeared to be as old as the house, and was all of 
 
A MATCH A PARROT MADE. 83 
 
 one unbroken neutral tint. Mr. Caddy son was a 
 solicitor, and had occupied a little office in Bed- 
 ford-row, throughout what he called his "bread- 
 and-cheese career." It had always been bread and 
 cheese with him. He had had neither misfor- 
 tunes nor successes. He had just managed to live, 
 and keep his head up He had neither saved nor 
 lost. He was humble-minded and satisfied, how- 
 ever ; and, although he could have enjoyed 'SO 
 port, had he been able to put it in his cellar, did 
 not repine over his whiskey toddy. He had come 
 to the conclusion long since, that there were 
 people who were born to good luck, but that he 
 was not of the number. It was Mrs. Caddyson's 
 opinion that he could have done much better had 
 he chosen ; and in her own mind she probably 
 thought that he liked standing still, that he was 
 pleased to see that his income did not increase — 
 that luck, in a word, was odious in his sight. 
 She held that he was too particular in his pro- 
 fession, and that he should take leaves out of 
 other people's books. 
 
 f2 
 
84 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 " What I" he would answer, " take the dkty 
 leaves, I suppose ? No, no, no, Mrs. Caddyson/' 
 
 Miss Caddyson had been brought up with a 
 mild instalment of the fashionable accomplish- 
 ments. She was a good, domestic, bashful girl, 
 and was very fond indeed of her parents and her 
 parrot. 
 
 It was not many weeks before the sudden dis- 
 appearance of Mr. Abraham Pursey, that Vacarme 
 made the memorable flight that brought back Mr. 
 Henry Pursey to the Caddysons' fireside. This 
 young gentleman had been revolving uneasily in 
 his mind how he should make this opening of a 
 new era in his life known to that redoubtable 
 lecturer, his father. He felt that there would be 
 a storm, and he dreaded it. This was the weight, 
 then, that was lifted from his shoulders when his 
 father took his way across the Atlantic in search 
 of better fortune. The duty of breaking the news 
 to his mother was a comparatively hght task. 
 Mrs. Pursey was very searching in her inquiries as 
 to the actual condition and prospects of the 
 
A MATCH A PAEEOT MADE. 85 
 
 Caddyson family ; and her son Henry could give 
 her no very bright picture of either. Whereupon 
 she said — 
 
 " You are worse than your father, Henry. Fool 
 as he was in after Hfe, at any rate he had the 
 sense to better himself, as I know to my cost, 
 by his marriage. And there are you, I may 
 say, well started in life, going to throw yourself 
 away upon a girl who has, I am quite sure by what 
 you yourself say, not a shilling to bless herself with. 
 At any rate, sir, you don't have my consent." 
 
 Henry protested that, to begin with, he didn t 
 know whether Miss Caddyson would accept him 
 if he proposed to her ; he only knew that if she 
 did he should be the happiest man in the world. 
 
 " Tush I" answered Mrs. Pursey. " The happiest 
 man in the world, indeed ! — the happiest fiddle- 
 sticks." 
 
 " Besides, mother, I don't know the state of Mr. 
 Caddyson's pecuniary afifairs ; he may have money 
 — it's quite possible." 
 
 " Don't talk to me, boy, in that way ; you've 
 
86 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 told me quite enough. A very little description 
 is enough to tell me whether people have money 
 or not ; I could tell by the state of the doorstep 
 whether there was money in the house. Unfor- 
 tunately, your poor mother has had too much ex- 
 perience of what want of money means, and how 
 people show it. I tell you these Caddysons are 
 hand-to-mouth people ; and, after all the good 
 advice your Uncle Reddish has given you, too, 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You are 
 a Pursey to the backbone, and so much the worse 
 for you. I had hoped to see a little of the Reddish 
 in you ; but go your own way, for you will, only 
 don't say that I didn't warn you, and don't hope 
 for anything out of my poor little allowance. It's 
 little enough I have left, after being married to 
 your father for two-and-twenty years, and no 
 thanks to him nor to any of his family for what 
 I have got. Besides, what right has a mere lad 
 like you to fall in love, and talk about mar- 
 rying ? Time enough, I say, when you're thirty, 
 and then it's too early. Why, there's Miss Ballom 
 
A MATCS A PAEBOT MADE. 87 
 
 who'll have three hundred a year in her own 
 right." 
 
 "What, mother!" Henry Pursey exclaimed, 
 " the one who squints V 
 
 '' Squints, sir ! And what if she does ? This 
 Miss Caddyson's no great beauty, I'll be bound." 
 
 " Why, mother, you've not seen her.' 
 
 " No, sir, and I don't want, that's more ; don't 
 bring her here." 
 
 This conversation was not a cheering one to 
 Henry Pursey. He continued his visits, however, 
 in Charlotte-street; and, by degrees, paid open 
 court to Miss Caddyson. Mrs. Caddyson agreed 
 with her husband, that Henry Pursey was a very 
 genteel young man. The lady was much shocked 
 by his father's flight, and was disposed for a time 
 to be cool to him on this account. But Mr. 
 Caddyson soothed her alarms and appealed to her 
 sense of justice ; he said that it would be shameful 
 to visit the sins of the father upon this honourable 
 young gentleman, who was well placed for life ; 
 whose income would increase regularly year by 
 
88 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 year, and who would be entitled, long before he 
 was an old man, to a pension from the Crown. 
 * * * * * 
 
 Henry Pursey's suit prospered, and by degrees, 
 as time rolled on, his mother's mind was softened 
 towards the family of his betrothed. She thought 
 he might have looked a little higher, and she took 
 care to tell him from time to time, how unfavour- 
 ably his Uncle Reddish thought of the match. 
 
 " You are a foolish boy," she would say ; " you 
 are walking in your own light, and I am sure you 
 will be very sorry for it one of these days, and will 
 remember the warning your mother and your best 
 friends gave you. But if you will, you must; 
 that is ai I have to say." 
 
 Mrs. Pursey was reluctantly persuaded by her 
 son to visit the Caddysons. Her manner was 
 freezing at first ; but Mr. Caddyson was so polite 
 to her, heaped so many attentions upon her, and 
 so covered her son with praise, that she became 
 quite friendly ; and said to Henry on theii' way 
 home, that he was quite a delightful old gentleman. 
 
A MATCH A PARROT MADE. 89 
 
 " And what do you think of her, mother T 
 Pursey anxiously asked. 
 
 " Well, if you ask me for looks, Henry, and you 
 want my candid opinion, I don't think there's 
 much to choose between her and Miss Ballom." 
 
 " Mother !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Well, I don't, and that's the truth of it, Henry ; 
 and mark me, Miss Ballom has three hundred a 
 year in her own right, as I've told you very often ; 
 and Miss Caddyson hasn't three hundred pence." 
 
 But Mrs. Pursey 's worldly wisdom was expended 
 in vain, and Uncle Reddish's threats and anger 
 were passed by as the idle wind. 
 
 In brief, two summers after Vacarme's demon- 
 stration in Charlotte-street, Henry Pursey married 
 Yacarme's young mistress. 
 
90 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 
 
 " Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits." 
 
 Shakespeaee. 
 
 It happened that the department in which Mr. 
 Henry Pursey gave his services to the Crown was 
 also that in which the two timid young bill-dis- 
 counting gentlemen, whom the reader met in the 
 office of Mr. Zachariah Moss, also served the State. 
 One of these young gentlemen was Mr. Algernon 
 Conway, and the other Mr. John Talbot Whit- 
 tlesea. They were humble, tiresome, poor, and 
 troublesome offshoots of much too luxuriant aris- 
 tocratic trees ; and were born, therefore, to be pro- 
 vided for by the public in some way. Conway 
 and Whittlesea were chums. They were great 
 about blood, and condoled with each other over 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 91 
 
 the degenerate days id which they lived, when all 
 kinds of fellows were getting into the Government 
 service ; and when snobs who hardly knew who 
 their grandfather was, and if they did know would 
 be ashamed to mention his name, got into the 
 public service because they had been able to cram 
 for an examination. They constituted themselves 
 the two swells and notables of their room. They 
 were on speaking terms with several peers; they 
 were occasionally asked to the great houses of their 
 relatives ; and so other clerks looked up to them. 
 It was very small and paltry in these clerks, 
 no doubt, to pay attention to, and court, these two 
 young gentlemen because they were second cousins 
 of noble lords; but that which the servile clerks 
 did to Conway and Whittlesea, is done in every 
 condition, and in every position, of life. The learned 
 pate still ducks to the golden fool, the tradesman 
 ducks to the merchant, and the merchant to the 
 nobleman. Each in his sphere tries to catch the 
 hem of one in the sphere above him, and will do, 
 very often, the meanest tricks to succeed. 
 
92 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Let the reader, then, not be too hard on Henry 
 Pursey and his co-clerks because they paid extra 
 attention to Messrs. Conway and Whittlesea. 
 Pursey paid a bitter price for the honour of the 
 acquaintance of these young gentlemen, and of 
 their particular friend, Mr. Julius Macfura. 
 
 The genealogical tree of which Mr. Julius Oscar 
 Macfum was a sprig was an old, old piece of vege- 
 tation, at least so said Mr. Julius Macfum himself. 
 If the historian may rely on the testimony of this 
 gentleman— this ''Simple Child"— the Macfums 
 came to England with the Conqueror; and, if 
 the characteristics of this member of the family 
 may be taken as a specimen of the Macfums, 
 I should judge that Julius was right in his ob- 
 servation. Julius Macfum was not a man of 
 classical education, nor could he boast any 
 commanding natural powers ; but he contrived to 
 make a very effective figure in the world, never- 
 theless. In the first place, he was seldom seen 
 twice in the same waistcoat — a fact, according to 
 him, sufficient to establish any man's reputation 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE ELY. 93 
 
 in good society ; and then he wore a moustache 
 (when moustachios were not as common as now), 
 and talked about the Macfums in India. He was 
 dependent upon some unseen and most mysterious 
 uncle, who, it was alleged, forwarded him peri- 
 odical remittances ; and gave him to believe that 
 he would leave him the bulk of his property. 
 Who this uncle was, and where his property was 
 situated, were the mysteries of Macfum's friends. 
 He had lately been introduced to Mr. Henry 
 Pursey by Mr. Conway, and had taken this young 
 gentleman in hand, or, as our sparks have it, in 
 tow. Fortunate young Pursey ! Henry Pursey 
 was a young and an ambitious man. 
 
 He had rented a seven-roomed cottage in the 
 neighbourhood of Chelsea, where he esconced his 
 wife and one servant, and where he usually spent 
 his evenings and his Sundays. For six or eight 
 months after his marriage this modest house was 
 his world ; but by degrees a longing for some 
 change, some excitement, to vary the monotonous 
 quiet of this domestic bliss, stole over him, 
 
94 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 and he wandered forth into the night-haunts of 
 London, in one of which he had the honour of 
 improving the acquaintance of Mr. Julius Macfum. 
 And Macfum, in the largeness of his heart and 
 the emptiness of his pocket, determined to test 
 the truth of his protege's soul — to try whether he 
 had discovered one trusting nature among the 
 selfish and suspicious souls that choked London. 
 Pursey, elated with the condescensions of his 
 obviously military friend (to whom Conway had 
 introduced him), vaunted the aristocratic nature 
 of his new acquaintance to his co -clerks, with the 
 air of a man who had made an important onward 
 step in the world. 
 
 It was arranged, after the first meeting, that 
 the new friends should take a chop together. 
 Macfum would have asked Pursey to his club — 
 nothing could have been easier — only he wished 
 for a quiet evening ; and he knew that he should 
 meet Lord Condiment there and "a heap of fellows," 
 who would insist upon his supping with them. 
 With a languid air Macfum vowed that he must 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 95 
 
 positively weed his friends. So it was arranged 
 that they should dine at a cafe of great 
 memory in the Haymarket, where Macfum as- 
 sured his young friend they would get a first-rate 
 steak, to say nothing of potatoes au naturel, that 
 would throw him into ecstacies of delight. The 
 friends met as agreed. Pursey was punctual to 
 his appointment, but Macfum was half-an-hour 
 after his time ; albeit, he had been a few doors 
 off for more than an hour. He had been detained 
 at the Carlton, the sly fox said, and had just left 
 that consummate bore, Sir George, in the Mall. 
 I know it, however, to be a positive fact that 
 Macfum paid the toll-keeper of Waterloo-bridge 
 the sum of one halfpenny, being the toll for his 
 passage, not more than one hour and a half 
 before his arrival at the cafe. Waterloo- 
 bridge and Waterloo-road knew him well 
 enough — but he knew neither. Macfum in- 
 sisted upon standing a bottle of the landlord's 
 finest port, as a sedative, after an ample 
 dinner, and then opened that lazy conversation 
 
96 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 in which Englishmen usually indulge over 
 their walnuts and their wine — when they have 
 them. 
 
 "This isn't a bad glass of wine," ventured 
 Pursey. 
 
 He would have made the observation had it 
 been ditch-water. 
 
 " Humph ! — ah !" said Macfum, sipping the 
 wine at intervals, and holding the glass to the 
 light ; " I've been spoiled lately," — meaning to 
 say, guinea port has been my daily tipple for 
 some time past — " yes, completely, irrevocably 
 spoilt !" 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Why, I've been spending a few weeks with 
 Lord Mac Fleming, in the north of Scotland, 
 lately, and he has some of the most magnificent 
 port, I think I may say, I ever tasted ; I don't 
 think the Duke of Ayr's is better. A fine dry 
 wine that cleans the mouth, if I may be allowed 
 the expression ; but you know the kind of wine I 
 mean, my dear sir. It was scarcely so pure a 
 
TSE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 97 
 
 wine, now I call it to • mind, as that I sent to an 
 uncle of mine in India—the ungrateful old buffer! 
 I might as well have enjoyed the twenty dozen 
 myself— quite as well."" 
 
 " What ! did he pronounce it bad ?" 
 
 " Oh no, not he, the old cormorant ! He wrote 
 back an indignant letter, asking me if I thought 
 twenty dozen of wine (though he acknowledged 
 that it was in fine condition) was not a shabby 
 present to send to a relative who had been as 
 good as a father to me ? Just conceive the kind 
 of manners he must have ! The rich old Indians 
 imagine that we poor devils over here can make 
 money as fast as they ; we who have to look at 
 every fifty-pound note, and no mistake about it. 
 I don t disguise it's my own case, sometimes." 
 
 "Is your uncle an Indian merchant?" asked 
 Pursey. 
 
 " Come, you're not taking care of yourself— fill. 
 My uncle a merchant, eh ? Well, I scarcely know 
 what he calls himself; but of this fact I'm pretty 
 certain, he has heaps of money. I take him to 
 
 G 
 
98 CENI PER CEXT. 
 
 be an obese old sensualist, who lies all day 
 under cover, and is fanned by a brace of 
 niggers. He's unmarried, and I'm the only re- 
 lation he has in the world. You don't know how ex- 
 citing it is to be a member of a rich consumptive 
 family — to see first one die, then another, and to 
 be compelled at last to represent the entire family 
 oneself. It's sad — very sad — but deuced lucrative." 
 
 "And the family estate?" interposed Purse}^, 
 anxious to know all the grandeur of the Macfums 
 at once. 
 
 "You sly rogue !" and the condescending Mac- 
 fum poked his young acquaintance in the ribs. 
 "Yes, and the family estate — that's a consolation ; 
 a brilliant consolation ! Within the last two years 
 I have lost nine relations — no great loss, certainly. 
 As relations go, I have borne up wonderfully under 
 the infliction ; I don't repine." 
 
 "My dearMr.Macfum !" exclaimed Pursey, staring 
 with astonishment, "you talk like a Blue Beard." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! My dear boy, mere jesting of mine ; 
 it's a habit, caught from some comic snobs I used 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 99 
 
 to know, but whom I cut long since. But 
 you will allow, in common with all the world, that 
 relations are great bores. I know I speak from 
 experience. They do take such deuced liberties 
 with one ; and one gets no compensation for them 
 while they're alive. Sir, I would exterminate the 
 whole race of uncles and aunts — cousins I don't 
 count as relations ; they're merely slow connexions, 
 whom a man of sense avoids — they are such in- 
 sufferable preachers of sermons, and meddlers, and 
 kill-joys. Uncles, we have agreed to a man at my 
 club, are tyrannical old humbugs ; and I think, 
 I'm not sure, but I think we're going to put them 
 down altogether. We shall put some Sir Peter 
 Laurie on to them, I expect." 
 
 " Do you include ^/our own uncle in this sweep- 
 ing condemnation ?" 
 
 Pursey was puzzled and amused at the same 
 time. 
 
 " Hang it ! I scarcely know. I wont decide that 
 off-hand. The old fellow used to behave himself 
 in the most liberal manner. At one time I thought 
 
 g2 
 
100 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 him the most generous old fool on the face of the 
 
 earth ; but now, d n it, he does not know how 
 
 to treat a gentleman ; he has the spirit of a Jew 
 clothesman. Last year he got some odd crotchet 
 into his head, and swore he would cut off my 
 allowance. I wrote to him, and told him em- 
 phatically, that as a gentleman and a man of 
 honour, I could not consent to be treated like a 
 youth of twenty. That's the way to manage them, 
 I find. I said I'd open a shop, positively. The 
 stupid old creature returned me the humblest an- 
 swer in the world, enclosing me a cheque for double 
 my usual allowance, and almost going on his knees 
 to entreat me never to mention a shop again. 
 Eather handsome of the old boy, certainly. Now 
 he's got another crotchet in his head— a most 
 ludicrous and preposterous one — and I've written 
 him rather a smart letter on the subject, asking 
 him whether he would like to see a Macfum 
 earning his own living. I shall get a remittance 
 I suppose, by the next overland; meantime, I 
 must get Lord Condiment, or Sir George, to give 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 101 
 
 me a little help. Uncles must most decidedly be 
 put down, my dear Pursey. Sir George is a 
 deuced good natured fellow, but the worst of him 
 is, he's so awfully prosy. I can only compare him 
 to bagpipes ; but a heart of gold — pure virgin 
 gold. For instance, when I was in the same strait 
 last year — yes, it was about this time last year — 
 Sir George offered to lend me a hundred pounds 
 just to last me a little, until the arrival of the 
 mail. I knew it must come — must, by Jove ! I 
 objected, as any considerate man would object, to 
 borrow cash of his friend, if he could do without \ 
 so I frankly told prosy old Sir George — bless him ! 
 I couldn't think of using his money ; but that if 
 he would put his name to a bill for me, it would 
 answer the same purpose, do you see ? and not 
 put him to the inconvenience of drawing upon his 
 bankers. And so the matter was arranged in a 
 few minutes ; but let us talk upon another subject 
 I am boring you with these stupid and dull 
 personal matters. Have you been to the opera 
 yet ? It's too hot for me ; can't stand it" 
 
102 CENT PJEB CENT. 
 
 Pursey, who believed with many of his class, 
 that if he allowed he had not been to the opera 
 that season, he would be set down as a vulgarian, 
 saved his character by telling a lie. He asserted 
 that he was at the opera on the opening night — 
 admirable performance ! 
 
 " In the omnibus box ?" asked Macfutn, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " No ; in the pit." 
 
 Pursey thought this was a " let- down." 
 
 " What say you, shall we lounge in there to 
 night ? I can pass a friend." 
 
 Macfum was superbly indifferent. 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 And the twinkle that sparkled from Pursey 's 
 eye betrayed the flutter at his heart — showed to 
 his friend that it was no common occurrence to him 
 to visit the opera. Macfum was satisfied. 
 
 " I'll introduce you to Lord Condiment. I 
 think you'll like him." 
 
 " Heavens ! to know a lord !" 
 
 Henry Pursey gladly assented to this proposi- 
 
TEE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 103 
 
 tion. He was on the higli road to distinction. 
 To shake the hand of a live lord ! was not this to 
 reach the summit of human ambition? On the 
 morrow he would be another being. Now he was 
 of the mass — of "the general;" to-morrow he 
 would stand apart from the crowd. 
 
 " Waiter ! another bottle of port. Do you ride 
 much? — or are you too much occupied at Somerset 
 House r 
 
 " I don't find much time for riding," returned 
 Henry, anxious to avoid another falsehood, yet 
 without sufficient strength of mind to acknowledge 
 his ignorance of horseflesh. 
 
 "No, I suppose not; but still you have a 
 mount now and then V 
 " Oh, yes ! now and then." 
 Henry Pursey's relatives could have informed 
 Macfum that his (Pursey's) knowledge of horse- 
 flesh was limited in his youth to an occasional 
 canter upon the ponies stationed on Blackheath, 
 for the especial patronage of those persons who do 
 not object to broken knees in their horseflesh, and 
 
104 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 are not particular as to grooming, or saddle, or 
 anything. 
 
 " Condiment has some first-rate hacks. As you're 
 rather a j udge, he'll be glad to see you manage 
 one of his mares. If we meet him to-night, 
 I'll make an appointment with him for Sunday 
 morning — an open day for you, I take it. Will 
 that day suit you ? It's a bit of luck to get your 
 legs across one of Condiment's mounts.'' 
 
 ''I am afraid I'm engaged next Sunday,'* re- 
 turned Henry. 
 
 He was anxious to avoid a display of the cond- 
 tion of his equestrian education before a peer of 
 the realm ; at the same time, he was loth to lose 
 so glorious an opportunity of parading himself in 
 such company. Poor Mrs. Pursey, at Chelsea, 
 making the pies ! 
 
 " Well, my boy, we can arrange a day when we 
 meet Condiment." 
 
 Here a pause in the conversation ensued. Pre- 
 sently Macfum's eye caught the day of the month 
 suspended against the opposite wall — that was a 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 105 
 
 most convenient little date -box. He lifted his 
 glasses hastily, and again read the date. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" he then exclaimed. "Waiter, 
 is that the right date of the month ? It can't be. 
 No, no ; it can't be — I never make a mistake in 
 these matters." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered that important functionary. 
 "Quite right — always right here, sir; make a 
 pint of it, sir/' 
 
 " Why, hang it, Sir George leaves town to-night, 
 then. Waiter ! here, be quick. A stationer's at 
 hand, I suppose ? Fetch me a bill-stamp directly 
 — a printed form, mind ; and go like the wind — 
 d'ye hear — like lightning, and a little faster." 
 
 " Yes, sir," again vouchsafed the nimble and 
 most obsequious waiter, as he disappeared briskly 
 with the money. 
 
 " Hang it ! what an ass I am — a most consum- 
 mate, unfortunate ass ! I have been thinking 
 that this was the thirteenth only ; confound it ! 
 Sir George leaves town to-night, the fifteenth ; 
 there^s no mistake about it. He's almost the only 
 
106 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 man on the broad face of the earth of whom I 
 could ask so dehcate a favour. But I may yet 
 catch him at the Corinthian, if that waiter's not 
 half a century gone. He said he should take a 
 chop there at six ; then, hang him, he's so un- 
 certain ! Deuce take this waiter ! I wish he'd 
 make haste. Excuse my hurry and bad manners, 
 Pursey ; the thing's vital. Oh, here he is ! Do 
 without me for a few moments, my dear boy ; I'm 
 only going round to the Corinthian. I shall just 
 catch Sir George, if I run for it." 
 
 And Mr. Julius Macfum rushed into the street, 
 leaving Henry to enjoy the wine, and his own 
 vain reflections. Mr. Pursey lay in a net, and 
 believed it was a fresh bed of roses. 
 
 " Well, I haven't been unlucky all my life," the 
 dazzled one thought ; " I've done it at last ; I'm 
 with the cream of the cream — there can be no 
 shadow of doubt about it. I wonder whether 
 Macfum can help me in the office. If Macfum 
 can't, I should think Lord Condiment could, easily. 
 Macfum is a deuced good fellow : there's no cursed 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 107 
 
 pride — no haw-haw ! about him. What would 
 Mary say if she could see me hand in glove with 
 half the aristocracy of the land ? and, above all, 
 what would the Reddishes say? She'll want 
 (women are such snobs) to be introduced to Lady 
 Condiment and Sir George's wife ; but how's it to 
 be done ? — not that she'll listen to reason. I can't 
 ask Condiment home to our grubby place ; his 
 bailiff wouldn't sit in it. Ecod, no ! he'd cut me 
 
 directly. It's a deuced bore ; money's the d II 
 
 Ho, here's Macfum !" 
 
 This gentleman threw himself, exhausted and 
 dejected, into a chair, and panted. 
 
 " He's off ! fetched him in the travelling carriage 
 at half-past five. It's more than a confounded 
 nuisance ! I'm hanged if I don't cut the 
 Corinthian; there's nobody to answer you— no 
 
 order — no — d n it, no anything. Besides, it 
 
 does one no good." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because of late they've admitted some awful 
 snobs, whom it turns one ill to meet. I confess to 
 
108 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 being fastidious. I was near upon knocking one 
 of the plebeians down just now; I felt a tingling 
 sensation in my right fist — a coarse brute ! I 
 was in the reading-room, making some inquiries 
 after Sir George, when the fellow came up and 
 asked me if I wanted to see the baronet very 
 particularly. I told him, conceiving that he was 
 a gentleman, that I did wish to see Sir George on 
 an urgent pecuniary matter, that was of impor- 
 tance to both of us, when the grossier — the 
 malhonnete — the booby presumed to ask if he 
 could be of any service — he, an utter stranger ! 
 — a jackass ! I told him I'd a good mind to 
 horsewhip him for his insolence ; and I added, in 
 a voice of thunder for all the room to hear, and by 
 way of a lesson to the ignorant scoundrel, ' You 
 should know, sir, that a gentleman receives a 
 fa our from no man who is not strictly his friend.' 
 The fellow addressed me as familiarly as you or 
 Condiment would. Upon my honour, now I think 
 of it, more familiarly." 
 
 " I am thankful that you include me in your 
 
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. 109 
 
 list, Mr. Macfum/' answered Pursey,his breast bound- 
 ing with gratitude at the overwhelming compli- 
 ment of his new companion. 
 
 Macfum threw the bill-stamp upon the table, 
 seized the decanter, and filled two brimming 
 glasses. 
 
 " Now, Pursey, let's drink to a lasting friend- 
 ship." 
 
 "With unfeigned pleasure," answered Pursey, 
 extending his hand to Macfum ; and the two drank 
 to a lasting — an eternal friendship. It was a 
 charming spectacle. 
 
 " Condiment is at the club now ; he rather an- 
 noyed me. Waiter, bring a pen and some ink, 
 and a sheet of paper. I must write a word to 
 Captain Eutter ; you'll excuse me, Pursey ?" And 
 Macfum wrote a short note to his friend in the 
 Guards. 
 
 There appeared to be no limit to his command 
 of great friends. Pursey sipped his wine (he had 
 fully taken his quantity by this time) and with 
 unfeigned admiration surveyed the placid Macfum, 
 
110 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 who, albeit on nodding terms with half Belgravia, 
 was as unpretending as any Quaker. 
 
 *' Waiter, have you a porter who can take a 
 letter as far as the Guards' Club ?" said Macfum, 
 when he had completed the address on the en- 
 velope. "Never mind, 1^11 take it myself;" 
 turning to Pursey, " As I was telling you. Con- 
 diment rather annoyed me. He said, if I had 
 asked him he would have been happy to oblige me 
 with his name to the bill ; but, as I told him, 
 how could he expect me to mention such a matter 
 to him, when he had not so much as hinted his 
 willingness to serve me ? Some men, you see, don't 
 understand delicacy of feeling. I was sorry for his 
 sake, but I felt bound, of course, to decline his offer. 
 Don't you think I acted as became a man of spirit V 
 
 "Certainly ; I admire your sensitiveness exceed- 
 ingly." Pursey's enthusiasm in favour of his com- 
 panion was now at white heat. He took a pen, 
 drew the bill towards him, and wrote his name 
 across, in spite of the reiterated remonstrances of 
 Macfum, who protested that he would not have 
 
TSi: SPIDEB AND THE FLY. Ill 
 
 asked such a favour of Pursey, upon such a short 
 acquaintance, for worlds — no, not for worlds ! He 
 was quite taken ahack. Pursey begged that his 
 friend would not mention so slight — so very trivial 
 — a favour ; and presently the two separated for 
 their respective homes, to dress for the opera. 
 
 Macfum turned back to survev the retreatinor 
 figure of his friend. He shrugged his shoulders as 
 in pity, and muttered to himself — 
 
 " Poor little snob ! Yes, Jem is right— bait 
 with coronets, and they bite freely. Ha, ha !" 
 
 Mr. Henry Pursey went on his way home re- 
 joicing; he felt ready to hug Mr. Conway for his 
 introduction. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" said he to himself; "I should like 
 to know what the Keddishes will say now ; T 
 should just like to see that ill-tempered uncle of 
 mine at the opera. I have broken down the 
 barriers at last, and my way is clear and open." 
 
 When he got home, he thought it had never 
 looked half so homely. His pretty wife, who was 
 waiting for him, and who had his slippers ready, 
 
112 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 for the first time appeared to him a somewhat 
 plain, domestic little body. She was surprised 
 and delighted to hear that he was going to the 
 opera ; and in such brilliant company, too. She 
 lingered over him at his toilette, and smoothed his 
 collar, and tied his cravat, and sent him forth with 
 a glow and pleasure an artist feels when he sends 
 forth the picture he likes best. And how did the 
 little snob thank her ? — for an arrant snob Henry 
 had become that day. Why, his haughty little 
 soul revolted when the humble maid was sent out 
 for beer on the morrow evening at supper- time. 
 The weighty domestic question whether the 
 mutton should be cold or hashed, appeared to him 
 to be a horribly vulgar one. His wife desired to 
 consult his taste in the matter ; but how on earth 
 could his noble lordship be expected to devote one 
 moment's attention to cold mutton ? Poor little 
 Mrs. Pursey ! How well she remembered this day 
 in after life ; and how bitterly she rued the encou- 
 ragement she gave Henry to cultivate his new 
 splendid friends. But Mr. Henry was at this time 
 
THE SPIDEB AND THE FLY. 113 
 
 too magnificent to be controlled. He stalked 
 about with ludicrous pomp ; but when at night he 
 laid his head upon his pillow, ere he fell asleep, a 
 voice, in a harsh whisper, must have repeated to 
 him his father's last words, when conjuring him 
 never to put his hand to a bill. 
 
 "Then never do, sir," said the harsh whispering 
 voice ; " never do ; and be a happier man than 
 your father ever has been, or ever can be, with all 
 his unprecedented aptitudes for business." 
 
114. CENT PER CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "BUSINESS WITH MOSS." 
 
 " And on Lis shield sans loy in bloody lines was dyde." 
 Spen see's Faerie Queene. 
 
 When Henry Pursey was fairly out of sight, 
 Macfum shaped his course in the direction of old, 
 dusty, wicked Gray's Inn. He drew the bill from 
 his pocket, and read it over, chuckling the while ; 
 and then he hastened onwards. "I wonder 
 whether the old rascal is at his office stilV he 
 soliloquized, " or whether he has shut up that vile 
 swindling- shop of his for the night, and is in his 
 gratuitous cups, at the 'Bit of Paper.'" The 
 current of Macfum's thoughts then ebbed back to 
 the cafe ; and, as he hastened to the Inn, he 
 recalled the points of his manoeuvre to mind, and 
 
":bztsini;ss with Mossr 115 
 
 felt serenely conscious of his consummate art as a 
 trickster. He was nearing the summit of his 
 profession. Among his associates, Macfum num- 
 bered a few young lords and a sprinkling of poor 
 baronets, who were occasionally accommodated 
 through him. And these green and " fast" noble- 
 men, the height of whose ambition was to back a 
 winner for the Derby, or win the pretty horse- 
 breaker who was for the moment in vogue ; and 
 who had promised thei progenitors to turn pre- 
 sently from a study of horseflesh, and from the 
 companionship of pretty horse-breakers to that 
 of politics; patronised Macfum, and associated 
 with him because he was a jolly fellow, who 
 could lead them into queer places, and behaved 
 enough like a gentleman for their purpose. 
 
 Macfum was an expert practical joker, and was 
 admired for his daring, for his unfailing confidence, 
 and his inexhaustible expedients. He had gained 
 a bet with Lord Rappee, that he would get a 
 prudent Scotchman of their acquaintance to 
 accept a bill ; and his success in the matter had 
 
 H2 
 
116 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 established his reputation for consummate tact. 
 Henceforward was he called the " Simple Child.'* 
 It was generally believed that Macfum had 
 accomplished what the persuasive powers of fifty 
 special pleaders would have failed to bring about ; 
 Macdonald had fallen like a lamb ! Indeed, it is 
 reported that the duped Scot was henceforward 
 looked upon by his countrymen as a disgrace to 
 his fatherland ; and that his family, for this one 
 false step, disinherited him ! 
 
 Macfum's spirits never failed him ; and he had 
 the rare faculty of m.aking his liveliness contagious. 
 He once (so his companions reported) induced a 
 funeral party " to make a night of it/' and in the 
 character of witness forced the Lord Chief Justice 
 to shake with laughter in his ermine. So his 
 friends were always pleased to meet him, and 
 did not greatly busy themselves about his prin- 
 ciples or the gentility of his descent. Macfum 
 is one of a numerous metropolitan regiment of 
 adventurers. His chums accepted his story about 
 his uncle m India as a true tale, for the most 
 
" BUSINESS WITH MOSSr 117 
 
 sufficient reason that they did not care to satisfy 
 themselves as to its absolute truth. An unto- 
 ward discovery would have condemned their 
 jovial friend as an adventurer, and consequently 
 have rendered the continuance of companion- 
 ship with him impossible. Very much in this 
 way matters stood between Macfum and the 
 world. 
 
 Macfum did not disguise the humble nature of 
 his sleeping-room from all his elegant vauriens. 
 He playfully called his apartment "his perch," 
 and talked of finding his horrible " little roosting- 
 place," when he was about to withdraw for the 
 night, early in the morning. He was an open 
 admirer of the style of dwelling patronised by 
 Diogenes, and would ask his bachelor friends (if 
 he decided upon honouring their rooms for the 
 night with his presence) whether they had a con- 
 venient "tub," wherein he might shake down till 
 morning. This facetious philosophy disarmed the 
 scandal, or quieted the ill-nature of the world; 
 and so Julius Macfum ilourished, or contrived to 
 
118 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 exist, and handsomely, unquestioned if not un- 
 suspected. 
 
 He stopped before the dirtiest house of the 
 dirtiest London inn, and having summoned the 
 lean clerk by means of a dusty and rusty knocker 
 on the right-hand door, under which was painted 
 ** Mr. Zachariah Moss" (a gentleman who, as the 
 reader has heard, repudiated his Jewish descent), 
 that consumptive and lightly-clad functionary 
 declared that Mr. Moss had left office for the day, 
 but would be in town by ten o'clock on the morrow 
 morning. He was not at the "Bit of Paper" to- 
 night. 
 
 The boy was a completely subdued being; he 
 was a worm you might safely tread upon — he was 
 past turning. Mr. Moss's heel had passed over 
 him, and he was not likely to turn after that. 
 
 "You're sure hell be here by ten, eh, young 
 shaver ?" asked Macfum. 
 
 "Yes, sir; he'll be glad to see you at that hour." 
 
 " Don't doubt it — the arrant old villain ! You 
 can tell Moss from me, that I was never up but 
 
"busin:ess with Mossr 119 
 
 once at that disgraceful and most preposterous 
 hour ; and that was, d'ye see, when I was roused 
 by a relation of his savage brood to take an early 
 trip, you know where, not far off. Tell him I'll 
 call at one, and that he must be at home, and 
 not the faintest mistake about it. But you need 
 only say that a gentleman of an eccentric and 
 highly-original turn of mind wishes to be swindled 
 out of forty pounds to-morrow, and that he natu- 
 rally comes to Mr. Zachariah Moss to do the 
 business — Moss will be here, for the love of the 
 dirt, to the minute." 
 
 The clerk's face wrinkled into a grim smile 
 as Macfum disappeared. Poor boy ! the smile 
 couldn't stay one minute upon his face, young as 
 it was. 
 
 "Well," thought the clerk, as he resumed his 
 weary seat at his desk, " that chap must have had 
 a deal to do with attorneys, and with not the best 
 specimens of a shy class, neither. He's up to 
 the dodges; but we shall have him all nght 
 and tight yet. I'll bet a wager Moss Tl have his 
 
120 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 claws in him sharp, some morning, as he had 'em 
 in me." 
 
 And at this thought a malicious grin — an ex- 
 pression quite horrible on the beardless face of 
 youth — showed how effectually and earnestly Mr. 
 Moss was inculcating the principles of his pro- 
 fession in the mind of his clerk and late creditor. 
 
 " E-uin a boy," said Mr. Moss, " and he makes 
 you a /its^rate clerk ; having been in the fire 
 himself, he gets very keen." 
 
 Meanwhile, Macfum hastened homeward to 
 dress for the opera. He lodged in a second floor 
 of a house in or near the Waterloo Road, with a 
 miserable woman, who, in a rash hour, had given 
 him five hundred pounds, and her hand. Seeing 
 the five hundred, and being " hard-up," Macfum 
 took the hand as he took wine — in discount. 
 Mrs. Macfum was the daughter of a small trades- 
 man, who had amassed the above sum after a long 
 life of humble industry ; and who had bequeathed 
 it to his daughter, telling her she might become a 
 lady, if she acted prudently. Miserable lesson ! 
 
"BUSINESS WITH MOSSr 121 
 
 It fell like sweet music upon the daughter's ear. 
 Let any tradesman approach her, and he would 
 find his answer ready. Macfum, however, found 
 her smiling her sweetest — and with pride and joy 
 she became Mrs. Julius Macfum. Now Macfum 
 married because he was in a desperate condition 
 from want of money. He looked upon himself as 
 a bill, which his wife had accepted and cashed. 
 He breathed to no man the fact of his mercenary 
 alliance, but resolved to live with his wife in an 
 obscure lodging, where she might vegetate and 
 die. He never positively ill-treated her, but the 
 poor creature's pleasures or comforts were never 
 considered in any of his plans. She was merely 
 part and parcel of the inevitable luggage that 
 encumbered his lodging. Mr. Macfum was a 
 light-hearted, good-tempered man to the world ; 
 his boon companions said his thoughtless gene- 
 rosity and simple trust were his ruin. Mrs. Mac- 
 fum could have told a diflferent story. The utter 
 prostration of the wretched creature's spirit — her 
 silent and almost idiotic obedience to every beck 
 
12a CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 or nod of him from whom she had expected so 
 much, and from whom she had received nothing — 
 presented the most depressing picture of a wasted 
 life it is possible to conceive. And yet she mur- 
 mured not ; nay, she gloried in helping to give 
 the finishing touches to Mr. Macfum's gorgeous 
 toilette. 
 
 When Macfum returned home from his visit to 
 the office of Mr. Moss, he found his wife leaning 
 over a flickering fire in a state of half- stupor. 
 She raised her eyes as he entered, yet spoke not a 
 word. He threw down his hat and gloves, and 
 said, without turning his eyes towards the woman — 
 
 "Now, Polly, I'm late. Let me have some 
 clean linen, and my evening dress. Do you think 
 I want shaving V 
 
 The wife turned vacant eyes for a moment upon 
 the fine, pulpy face of her husband, and then a 
 half-suppressed smile stole upon her lips ; and she 
 was about to approach nearer to him. She checked 
 herself, however, and made answer in a quiet tone 
 of voice, so that Macfum did not perceive the 
 
"BUSINESS WITH MOSSr 123 
 
 momentary struggle that passed within her. The 
 history of this woman's life is a tragedy, fraught 
 with a most solemn warning to her wayward and 
 ill-advised sisterhood ; it is a tragedy, however, 
 upon which the curtain must be dropped. Op- 
 pression and neglect; a neighbour said, seemed to 
 come " quite natural" to her. 
 
 Macfum, in common with many men of no 
 importance, either in literary or theatrical circles, 
 had the right of passing a friend, together with 
 himself, into the pit of the Opera. He accom- 
 panied Pursey thither, and introduced him to one 
 or two sporting celebrities, to the great joy of the 
 young gentleman. And Pursey returned home to 
 his wife with a long account of the condescension 
 of the young aristocrats, who had, in truth, vouch- 
 safed him only the stiffest obeisance. " Who is 
 Mac's friend now, I wonder?" said they among 
 themselves. 
 
 Macfum was half-an-hour behind the time of 
 his appointment with Mr. Zachariah Moss — a fact 
 which that gentleman noticed rather angrily be- 
 
124 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 hind the back of the " Simple Child," but which 
 he humbly begged this gentleman not to mention 
 when he made his appearance. The reader is 
 already familiar with the exterior charms of Mr. 
 Moss. It need only be remarked that on this 
 day he wore emeralds instead of diamonds. 
 
 Macfum, who had long ago perceived that Mr. 
 Moss was guilty of the weakness of disavowing his 
 unmistakable descent, determined to turn this per- 
 ception to account, and had turned it to account 
 very often; and had led up, in fact, through it, to the 
 mysterious relations which now existed between 
 them. On the present occasion, Macfum resolved 
 to play again upon the attorney's weakness ; for, 
 on this occasion, the " Simple Child" required all 
 the money the bill was to produce, for himself. 
 
 " I'm surprised to find you here to-day, Zac — 
 Saturday ! Bless me, isn't this your Sunday ?" 
 commenced Macfum. " Give me a glass of sherry; 
 I'm positively faint." 
 
 " Now, you know, Mr. Macfum, that my Sab- 
 bath is your Sabbath ; it's too bad ; you are jesting 
 
" BUSINJSSS WITH MOSSr 125 
 
 upon my personal appearance. I won't stand it. 
 Shall we go to business ? What can I do for you ?" 
 
 "A friend of mine swears he saw you at a 
 suburban synagogue last Saturday," continued 
 Macfum ; " but he must have been mistaken. 
 You'll pardon my blunder also, Zac, I trust. 
 Everybody is liable to error,, you know — it's 
 human." This was said with a mock air of scru- 
 pulous politeness. 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Macfum, certainly. Don't say 
 another word about it. Now^ what can I do for 
 you? Only don't make the mistake again." 
 
 "This," answered Macfum, throwing Pursey's 
 acceptance upon the table. 
 
 " For that amount ! Really, Simple Child, 
 you come to mock me in my poverty. For all 
 this ! Do you want me to sell the beds from 
 under my children to keep up your extrava- 
 gances?" 
 
 " Not I ; it is you who intend to swindle me. 
 Don't start, Moss; it is your profession. I 
 don't blame you. Every man to his trade," said 
 
126 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 Macfum, coolly eyeing the discounter. "Your 
 little games don't take me in." 
 
 " And who, pray, is Mr. Pursey ?" 
 
 " A householder in Chelsea." 
 
 " Upon my word, I don't know where to turn 
 for the money. Besides, you know very well, 
 Simple Child, that I shall want a third and a 
 fourth name before I look at the bit of paper. 
 Mr. Macfum, you come upon a poor man so sud- 
 denly — but you always do. I told you the other 
 night, child, I hadn't any money." 
 
 Macfum laughed outright ; and, in answer to 
 the question of the astonished Moss, said — 
 
 " Hang it. Moss, you'd make a first-rate actor. 
 I'll get the ' Wandering Jew' dramatised for you 
 by a friend of mine. But it doesn't do with me, 
 my antiquated shaver. I know very well that 
 you don't contribute all the hundred-and-twenty 
 per cent, per annum which you clear upon your 
 capital to the charitable institutions of the country 
 — not quite all ; nor is it all laid out in shares 
 in the Pork Insurance Company. Come, let me 
 
"BUSINUSS WITH MOSS r 127 
 
 have no more of this absurd whining and acting, 
 but tell me at once what you mean to give me on 
 this bit of paper. Out with the worst. The man 
 who comes to Zac Moss is prepared to bleed." 
 
 Mr. Moss now put on his most wicked air. 
 
 "Are you a lover of the fine arts?" asked he, 
 suddenly, as though a new thought had struck 
 him. He must go through with his part, even 
 with the Simple Child, if only to keep his hand in. 
 
 "What, have you a batch of pictures just come 
 home from the bakehouse, eh ? Who's your 
 picture - baker ? A half-dozen portraits of a Pa- 
 triarch of the Minories by the starved Buggins, 
 if not baked for Rembrandts ; or a Ragged Boy, 
 with his Finger to his Nose, daubed in ten minutes 
 by the same luckless individual, for a sketch by 
 Wilkie — a bargain, at twenty guineas ? No, I 
 don't care about the fine arts." 
 
 " You are very severe, Mr. Macfum," answered 
 Mr. Moss, with forced equanimity. " You never 
 did me justice about my pictures; it's cruel, Mr. 
 Macfum." 
 
128 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 " It does you good to tell you a little truth now 
 and then, or in your old age you might be deluding 
 your soul with the idea of having led an honest 
 career. When you have your nightcap firmly 
 lodged upon your nose at night, I wonder what 
 is your real opinion of myself. Once for all^ my 
 good fellow, remember that your acting is thrown 
 away upon me ; it's shameful waste of genius. 
 Tell me at once how much rubbish in the shape 
 of wine and pictures, and what amount of cash 
 you are prepared to give me upon this bill, and 
 let's have no more of this child's play." 
 
 Mr. Moss eyed his lecturer angrily. He felt 
 . the force of Macfum's sarcasms. He knew very 
 well that he had to deal with one as shrewd and 
 worldly as himself; but it amused him to go 
 through the comedy and to pit his keenness 
 against that of the Simple Child. This edifying 
 mock battle was rehearsed every tiuie the 
 Simple Child brought a bit of stamped paper 
 to Mr. Moss's chambers. In his heart of hearts, 
 when he winced, Moss thought to himself he would 
 
"BUSINESS WITS MOSSr 129 
 
 keep his knife sharp to take his full pound of 
 flesh. 
 
 " Well," he said, at length, " I think you had 
 better get it cashed by Mr. Abraham, for I m 
 afraid my terms would not satisfy you, you've 
 become so grand and independent of late. Money's 
 extremely valuable in the City — so valuable, in- 
 deed, that it is, I may say, rashness to trust good 
 coin of the realm out on uncertain bills, when it 
 will realize so much in the City with no risk 
 whatever. You will do me a favour by giving 
 Mr. Abraham a turn this time." 
 
 " Hang it, Mr. Moss, I am not here to discuss 
 the monetary question with you ; I simply ask 
 you what you are prepared to advance me on that 
 bit of paper. Hang Abraham ! Hang you all, 
 for the matter of that." 
 
 " I've some splendid port," with oh ! so wicked 
 a look in his eye. 
 
 " Of course, that I was prepared for ; recom- 
 mended strongly for salads and picklings, I sup- 
 pose. I know the stuff ! Good for bruises, and, 
 
130 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 mixed with water, for headaches. Well, and how 
 man}^ dozen of this do you propose to favour me 
 with ? Out wath it, my tender Christian !" 
 
 " The wine to which I allude, Mr. Macfum, has 
 been pronounced by first-rate judges to be of most 
 excellent quality — I forget the vintage at the 
 moment. I could let you have four dozen of it 
 at fifty shillings a dozen.^' 
 
 "That's ten pounds thrown in the gutter. 
 Well, now for the Rembrandt by Brown ; my 
 time's valuable." 
 
 With the utmost gravity, and without noticing 
 the comment made by Macfum, Mr. Moss pro- 
 ceeded to enlarge upon the beauties of the two 
 sketches by Wilson, which he proposed to include 
 in the bargain. He directed his clerk to fetch 
 the masterpieces in question, and the paintings 
 were forthwith produced. Macfum, with a mock 
 air of gravity, raised his glass to his eye, and pro- 
 ceeded to dilate upon the airiness of the distance, 
 the masterly execution of the foliage, the graceful 
 curve given to the tail of one of the sheep, the 
 
SnSINUSS WITH MOSSr 131 
 
 exquisite taste displayed in parting the wool of 
 another of the flock down the back, the translu- 
 cency of the water, and the melting tones of the 
 half- distance, until Mr. Moss was well nigh over- 
 come with rage. 
 
 "It is undeniable," said Macfum, at length, 
 having ended his criticism; "Brown has talent. 
 It requires a genius to give that graceful curve to 
 a sheep's tail." 
 
 " Perhaps so," returned Mr Moss, sharply ; 
 "curly tail or no curly tail, I intend to have 
 twenty pounds for those two pictures." 
 
 " And quite right, Mr. Moss — quite right," con- 
 tinued Macfum, pleased to perceive that he had 
 roused the anger of old Zac, yet anxious not to 
 provoke a refusal to cash the bill. ' What is your 
 per centage ?" 
 
 "Thirty. That leaves forty, which you may 
 have in cash ; when you have got two more names 
 to that there bit of paper, and not before." Mr. 
 Moss wound up with great emphasis — " And as it's 
 to oblige you, Child, I don't mind taking Conway 
 
 I2 
 
132 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 aiid Wliittlesea; Td rather have somebody else, 
 but they shall do. You'll find them at Somerset 
 House now ; so if you want the money, go and get 
 their names to it, and bring it back to me, and 
 here it is." 
 
 In an hour Macfum returned with the young 
 gentlemen's autographs. 
 
 " Forty pounds !" said the Simple Child, ba- 
 lancing the money on the tips of his fingers ; 
 "forty for a hundred. You are a man of truly 
 Christian spirit, Mr. Moss. I thank my stars I 
 have escaped the clutches of the rascally Jews." 
 
 And on these terms the hill was cashed ! 
 
 " Where am I to send the pictures and wine ?" 
 asked Moss, as Macfum rose to depart. "The 
 Wilsons would hang v/ell in your hall," he added, 
 with a malicious grin. 
 
 " Do you think so ? I believe there is a vacant 
 space left in my back kitchen; or perhaps it is 
 occupied by the last masterpiece you let me have 
 at such a woeful sacrifice, so you had better keep 
 them for the present." 
 
"BUSINi:SS WITR MOSSr 133 
 
 " And the wine ?" 
 
 "I shan't pickle this season. Stay, you may 
 direct both the wine and pictures to Henry 
 Pursey, Esq., Briar Cottage, Battersea Lane, 
 Chelsea, and inclose my card in the parcel." 
 Pursey is a young man, and an inexperienced 
 man, thought Macfum, and doesn't know good 
 wine from bad. " Will you allow me to write a 
 word to Mr. Pursey ?" 
 
 « Certainly." 
 
 Macfum seated himself at Mr. Moss's desk, 
 and wrote the following sprightly epistle to his 
 friend : — 
 
 " City, Saturday. 
 
 "My dear Pursey, 
 
 " Herewith you will receive a small 
 sample of the same vintage as that of which we 
 were talking yesterday at the cafe. It has all the 
 tartness of a first-rate wine, and is as fruity and 
 clear as the most fastidious alderman could wish 
 The accompanying pictures are two Wilsons — ex- 
 quisite specimens of that master, as you will 
 
134 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 doubtless perceive. They were given to me by the 
 
 late Colonel Cutlet. They are thrown away in 
 
 my bachelor tub, so pray accept them, with the 
 
 sincere friendship of 
 
 "Julius Macfum. 
 
 " Lord Condiment is delighted with you. He 
 says we must all have a day of it out of town next 
 Saturday. We can't do without you ; so you 
 must hold yourself disengaged for that day. 
 
 "To Henry Pursey, Esq." 
 
 " There," said Macfum, giving the letter to Moss, 
 "let the bearer of the rubbish take this with 
 him.'^ 
 
 " You are a clever child/' answered Mr. Moss, 
 glancing at Macfum with a look half of envy and 
 half of satire. " You are a knowing one — if one 
 ever stepped." 
 
 " I wish I could return the compliment, Mr. 
 
 "You're hard upon a man of humble preten- 
 sions. Have I not dealt with you like a Christian, 
 
"BUSINESS WITH MOSSr 135 
 
 Mr. Macfum? Have I acted as though there 
 were a thimbleful of Jewish blood in me ? Now, 
 with my good gold jingling in your pockets, 
 answer me that ? Not a thimbleful ; not a 
 drop f 
 
 ''No, that you certainly have not, my dear 
 Mr. Moss ; you have acted as though you had 
 bucketfuls. Good day ; I shall see you pre- 
 sently." 
 
 Old Zac muttered some angry words to himself 
 as his customer departed, and then summoned a 
 grey-headed, wrinkled old man — a piece of human 
 antiquity, wholly devoid of that gentleness and 
 softness which give a sanctity to age — into his 
 presence. 
 
 " Has Solomon effected an entrance into 
 Beiners-street yet ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " I suspect that he is a careless fellow. Care- 
 lessness won't do for us — tell him that from me, 
 do you hear ? He was three weeks getting into 
 Peckham Eye, and then only effected an entrance 
 
136 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 in a wine-hamper ; though to my certain knowledge 
 there were three distinct doors to the house." 
 
 " Yes, sir, but people has got so sharp of late ; 
 as the principle of seizin' is spreadin' (with the 
 progress of civilization, I suppose), that it wants 
 an uncommon sharp 'un to get into a house now-a- 
 days." 
 
 " IVe a job for you to set about directly. You'll 
 have to convey some wine and pictures to Chelsea 
 in the course of Monday. Now, just attend to 
 what I am going to tell you. You will be a 
 bearer of a letter to Mr. Henry Pursey (to whom 
 the goods in question are to be consigned), which 
 you will insist upon delivering into his hands 
 or into his wife's. Well, when you get into the 
 house, run your eye over the furniture, and 
 judge, as far as you are able, whether there are a 
 hundred pounds' worth of goods on the premises. 
 Do you hear ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; very well, sir. A hundred pounds' 
 worth. It must be a decent room full to fetch 
 that. Did you hear, sir, that Mr. Isaacs's Clapham 
 
"BUSINESS WITH MOSSr 137 
 
 execution only fetched an odd three hundred, 
 sirT 
 
 " I said Isaacs would burn his fingers. Mind you 
 keep your eyes about you on Monday ; and just 
 notice where the back entrance lies, and whether 
 the servants answer the tradesmen that way. 
 Deuce take it, I'm obliged to teach you fellows 
 your business." 
 
 " I'll not be behind, sir, depend upon it," 
 answered the hideous old man, as he hobbled out 
 of the office. 
 
 When Mr. Moss was alone in his room, he 
 rubbed his hands, and said to himself — 
 
 " After that, I think I may treat myself to one 
 of my little friends ;" his " little friends" being his 
 demi-semiquavers of port. " Now, I dessay," Mr. 
 Moss continued, as he sat to his wine — " I dessay 
 the Simple Child thinks he's done me beautiful ; 
 as if I didn't know who Mr. Henry Pursey was. 
 Son of old kite-flyer Pursey who hooked it to 
 America. Yes, but son as well to Mrs. Pursey, 
 late Miss Reddish, who's a hundred-and-fifty pun' 
 
138 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 a year, and it's to come to Henry, who's her only 
 child. Ha ! ha ! I rather think I shall take 
 a rise out of the Simple Child to-night, over the 
 punch." 
 
 And that evening, at the "Bit of Paper,'* 
 Zachariah Moss was very merry at the expense of 
 the Simple Child over the bowl of punch which 
 was de rigueur on the occasion of such a trans- 
 action. 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION. 130 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION. 
 
 "Be not cunning." 
 
 The errand on which Mr. Zachariah Moss 
 despatched his man Solomon was one that was 
 most congenial to this ancient scavenger in the 
 dirty ways of the law. He had passed his life in 
 the employ of a shady unscrupulous attorney. 
 " Put old Solomon on to him/' said old Mo, when 
 his friend Ben could not find at once the poor 
 creditor for whom he was in search; "he'll 
 ferret him out, will old Sol : there never was a man 
 with such a scent. Talk of detectives ; I'd back 
 him to beat them in a search, by miles. Nothmg 
 stops him." 
 
140 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Mr. Tim Selph had the highest respect for old 
 Solomon, and would often condescend to drink a 
 glass of ale in his company. 
 
 " Sol," Mr. Tim would say with an air (for even 
 Tim, you see, had his inferiors, with whom he could 
 enjoy the feeling of showing condescension), " Sol," 
 said he magnificently, as he watched the " beaded 
 brim" of his morning glass of bitter ale, " you are 
 worth your weight in gold.'^ 
 
 " And that," said Solomon, very surlily, '' that's 
 why I'm always paid in ha'pence, I suppose." 
 
 "Take the goods the gods provide you, Sol, 
 and be happy, like a philosopher," Tim advised. 
 
 "But it's the devils who employ me," Sol 
 answered. " I'm sure, however, Mr. Selph, when 
 I look at you, and knowing the business you had, 
 and how you lost it ; how, to my sartin' knowledge, 
 you picked many people's bones, and never got so 
 much as an ounce of meat for yourself, I'm sure 
 it must be enough to make you grow crazy at 
 times." 
 
 " Never mind bygones, Sol ; have another glass 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION 141 
 
 of ale. I was a fool, and that's the long and 
 short of it ; I don't disguise it. I might have 
 driven my own trap by this time " 
 
 "Instead of running like a dirty dog behind 
 other people's," a gruff voice, from a very savage- 
 looking man, interposed. 
 
 " Hullo 1" cried old Solomon. 
 
 " Yes, hullo I" echoed the gruff speaker in down- 
 right earnest, and making a menacing advance to 
 shabby, cowardly, sneaking little Selph, "the 
 little cur remembers me. I am Joe Hoole, whom 
 he screwed ; whose pocket he picked in the shape of 
 costs; who had to run after him and buy his 
 mercy by the hour. Now I don't owe him a brass 
 farthing, nor any other man (snapping very 
 muscular fingers under Tim Selph's nose), and — 
 and if I could afford the luxury, I would lay the 
 scurvy whelp across my knee, and cane him till he 
 howled again." 
 
 "Gently, gentlemen," the landlord inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! gentlemen !" the hoarse stranger 
 
142 CENT PEE CENl 
 
 roared. " If these are your gentlemen, tliank you. 
 I called for a glass of ale— but never mind— I'm 
 accustomed to drink in the company of honest 
 people ; (to Mr. Selph particularly and exclusively) 
 crawl on your belly, reptile — ugh I" and the 
 stranger strode into the street 
 
 "You must have pinched pretty hard, Mr. 
 Selph," said Solomon, not discomposed by this 
 outburst of indignation. 
 
 " I had the best of him ; you can see that," 
 Selph tried to laugh. 
 
 A tawdry woman, with patches of paint upon 
 her cheeks— a woman of shame — was drinking at 
 the bar. She overheard old Solomon, and Selph's 
 laugh. As she moved to the door, she paused 
 before them ; hate in her fierce eyes, and scorn 
 upon her coarse lips. 
 
 " You are all he said, and more. How many 
 people have you put, on winter s nights, upon the 
 bare boards ! You know what I am, and / spit 
 upon you both." With this the woman slammed 
 the door behind her. 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION. 143 
 
 " We're a gettin' it hot and strong this mornin'," 
 said old Solomon, " but it runs off me like off a 
 duck's back, that's one blessing." 
 
 "And what about this Pursey ?" Mr. Selph 
 asked, to turn the conversation. 
 
 "Not much of a place — young couple — fur- 
 nishing by degrees, I should say — not a dozen 
 bottles of wine in the cellar, and I do believe 
 they're ginger. Master had better take care." 
 
 "Don't be uneasy,, Sol; the young chap has 
 some little expectations." 
 
 " Oh ! that's quite another pair of shoes, as we 
 say." His face brightened. "I thought master 
 couldn't make a mistake." 
 
 "Nor I neither, Sol," said Selph. " He'll have 
 a hundred and fifty pounds a-year when his 
 mother dies." 
 
 " That is, somebody will," chirped old Solomon, 
 with a knowing wink. 
 
 "Exactly; somebody will, and somebody who 
 doesn't live two hundred miles off." 
 
 "These young sprigs, Conway and Whittlesea, 
 
144 CENT FEB CENT, 
 
 is going a nice game !" old Solomon pursued. " I 
 tell you what it is, Mr. Selph, I see 'em coming 
 out of Turnbull's offices the other day." 
 
 '' No, Sol !" 
 
 " Upon my soul I did, though. You know it's 
 my business not to make a mistake. Now, if 
 they hadn't been doing a little bit of stiff with 
 Turnbull — well, call me a fool for the rest of my 
 born days." 
 
 Mr. Selph looked very grave at this intelligence. 
 
 "The governor's in pretty heavy. The young 
 blackguards ! A little while ago they were so timid 
 you might have frightened them out of their lives 
 with the bare threat of proceedings ; and now 
 brass is butter to them. They positively joke the 
 governor." 
 
 " We shall have the lambs joking the butchers 
 soon," said old Solomon, mightily pleased with his 
 pleasant and highly picturesque way of describing 
 the pecuniary relations that existed between Mr. 
 Zachariah Moss and Messrs. Conway and Whit- 
 tiesea. 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION 145 
 
 " Gently," Mr. Tim Selpli remonstrated ; " I'm 
 sure Mr. Moss is an angel of mercy compared with 
 TurnbuU and a few others I could name." 
 
 " Quite right, Mr. Selph ; he's a dove among the 
 vultures." 
 
 "I call Mr. Moss's a very fair way of doing 
 business ; I only know I wish I had his chance. 
 I know one thing I should do, Sol, and in the 
 twinkling of a bed-post." 
 
 " I think I can guess — 1 think I can." 
 
 "Well, Sol, I should open my office-door as 
 wide as it would stand, I should lean my back 
 against the mantelpiece " 
 
 " A very good attitude indeed, Mr. Selph " 
 
 " And when Mr. " 
 
 " Shall I say who, Mr. Selph ? Do let me ; I 
 know I^m right." 
 
 "Say, Sol." 
 
 " Mr. Macfum came, you would say — 
 
 " There's the door, sir." 
 
 "Right again, right again! I'm afraid Mr. 
 Macfum's more than a match, even for Mr. Moss.* 
 
 K 
 
146 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " I wont say that, Sol, but I think this — Mr. 
 Moss has made as much as he is Hkely to make 
 out of him. Pursey's business was a bit of luck 
 that wont happen many more times, I fancy. 
 Macfum's blown upon in one or two quarters, to 
 my certain knowledge. Now, when a man like 
 Macfum is once blown upon it's all up with him. 
 He may be as clever as he pleases, but the swells 
 wont have anything more to do with him." 
 
 " No, they don't seem to see it ; and why 
 should they, Mr. Selph ?" was old Solomon's pro- 
 found remark. 
 
 " Not only that, Sol, but he's no longer of any 
 use to them, d'ye see. Macfum thinks himself 
 very witty, but then, Sol, everybody's witty now- 
 a-days, or every man thinks he is. The governor 
 laughs at him, and lets him say all sorts of impu- 
 dent things to him, which I wouldn't stand." 
 
 Now the truth was the sneak and little nin- 
 compoop attacked Mr. Macfum in this manner 
 because he had stood, and had felt himself bound 
 and compelled to stand, everything the Simple 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION 147 
 
 Child might choose to send to his address. He 
 had winced, but he had never turned; so he 
 came behind him in this way, and had at his 
 back — after the manner of Selphs in every station 
 of life. 
 
 " When his day comes, and the governor turns 
 round as you know, Sol, he can " 
 
 " Like a tiger ; there's no mistake about it/' 
 
 " Not too strong, Sol ; there are sharper claws 
 than the governor's." 
 
 " Sharper ! TurnbulFs are daggers in comparison 
 with Mr. Moss's/' 
 
 " Well, then, when Mr. Moss does turn round 
 upon Julius Macfum " 
 
 " Esquire," old Solomon interposed. 
 
 " Why, then, he'll feel something that wont be 
 at all agreeable to his lordship." 
 
 " His grace will laugh on the wrong side of his 
 moustache," was an observation made by old 
 Solomon, and deemed by him to be a witticism of 
 no common force or meaning. 
 
 " This is the time to keep your eyes open, Sol ; 
 
 k2 
 
148 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 there'll be some pretty doings, and some pretty 
 peckings, even for poor devils, presently." 
 
 "It's time," old Solomon sighed. ''The blind 
 eye's a bad business now. Time was, Mr. Selph, 
 when a man's blind eye meant a comfortable meat 
 and pudden' dinner every day in the week — and 
 I have known it get a bottle of port wine, or a run 
 down to Gravesend on Sundays. It's no go now." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Sol, that wont do ; the blind eye 
 brings a deal more than the wide-awake one.'' 
 
 It may be necessary to explain to the simple 
 reader, the profitable business of the blind eye. 
 
 Gentlemen of Mr. Solomon's profession are paid 
 by their employers to keep their eyes wide open, 
 and to pounce upon debtors, make entries into 
 houses, discover the whereabouts of people who 
 are hiding, and in many other ways watch intently. 
 They may be employed to peer down areas, to 
 follow in the wake of ladies and gentlemen to 
 whom a certain suspicion attaches ; or to go abroad 
 n quest of truant birds of various descriptions. 
 Now the reader will perceive that while on the 
 
AN EDIFYING CONVERSATION. 149 
 
 one hand they are open to an offer to keep watch 
 and ward, to report what their eyes have seen and 
 what their ears have heard ; they are tempted, on 
 the other hand, by the side that desires them to be 
 blind, to wear the near eye closed ; and this they 
 are sometimes good enough to do — for a considera- 
 tion. The reader will exclaim that this is grossly 
 unfair — nay, that it is absolutely dishonest. 
 
 " What ! I employ A to catch B," he protests, 
 "and A, with my money rattling in his pocket — 
 solid gold and silver which I have paid him — goes 
 over to B, whom he sees perfectly well, and tells 
 him * I will close the eye, B, that is nearest to you, 
 I will not see even your shadow, provided always 
 that you handsomely remunerate me for suffering 
 the inconvenience of a blind eye.' " 
 
 Sweet and grateful to the sense of knowing man 
 is such simplicity. The simple reader will not see 
 then^ that he who will sell an open eye, will sell a 
 closed one also. They are not of the salt of the 
 earth, but rather of the mud of it, who sell their 
 eyes to other men's purposes, and to the purposes 
 
150 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 of sorry specimens of men, to boot, always. For 
 they are not the open-handed, the generous- 
 hearted, the gifted, and the noble who buy in this 
 market. The man who buys is of a piece with the 
 man who sells. An aggrieved gandin once com- 
 plained to an omnibus proprietor that one of his 
 drivers had been much wanting in respect towards 
 him. 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir, and I will reprove him," 
 said the omnibus owner ; " but I do assure you, 
 I cannot always get gentlemen to drive my 
 'busses." 
 
 Let us not grieve that old Solomon has told 
 us the Blind Eye business is not what it used 
 to be : nor let us be surprised that is not in the 
 hands of gentlemen. 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS TSE " CEILBr 151 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 mr. henry pursey entertains the "simple 
 child/' 
 
 " And dainty bits 
 Make ricli the ribs and bankerout the wits." 
 
 Shakspeaee. 
 
 After a very short time from the date of Mr. 
 Julius Macfum's introduction to Henry Pursey, 
 the former gentleman made his way to the modest 
 cottage over which Mrs. Pursey, nee Caddyson, 
 presided. It was a pretty little place, with some 
 solid tufts of welcome green lilac under the parlour 
 windows. There were pots of flowers on the little 
 balcony; and as you peeped into the room, you 
 could see dainty bits of crochet work, spread here 
 and there about the furniture, and massed upon the 
 open workbox in a corner. The thriftiness and the 
 
152 CENT PUR CENT. 
 
 care which had presided over the faded furniture 
 in Charlotte-street, were here brought to bear upon 
 new furniture. It was a little English home, in 
 short, which appeared to have been put together 
 by two young people, who, being very fond of 
 one another, were content with a very small 
 proportion of worldly comfort and show. It had 
 the promise of a household that was destined to 
 prosper ; where little children were to learn to 
 walk and talk, while the parents pushed 
 forward boldly in the world, to gain better 
 fortune and a more spacious, but not a happier, 
 dwelling. 
 
 "A sweet httle bandbox," quoth Mr. Julius 
 Macfum, as he tripped up the spotless doorsteps. 
 " Le nid de Cupidon, eh, Pursey ?" 
 
 Cupid shivered in the nest, I trow, when the 
 elegant form of Mr. Julius Macfum first darkened 
 the threshold of Briar Cottage. If he had folded 
 his wings up there amid Mrs. Pursey 's work and 
 flowers ; I think he must have shaken his wings, 
 seeing that he might want them again, when her 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CHILD r 153 
 
 husband introduced his magnificent visitor. If 
 there was a chilling sense stole over the lady at 
 the appearance of her new guest, there was also a 
 flutter of pride at her gentle heart. Her Henry 
 had made a step in the world. They were 
 moving into better society. Better society ! As 
 though there were any better society than that of 
 two young people at their own fireside, reading 
 and talking together, the day's honourable work 
 at an end ; with honesty and love in their hearts, 
 and with the brave wings of Hope to carry them 
 along. 
 
 At this time Mrs. Pursey could only say of Mr. 
 Macfum, in her womanly way — "I have my 
 suspicions." He was certainly very gentlemanly 
 in his manners — most decidedly so — and very 
 good looking ; and, above all, evidently accustomed 
 to high female society (he paid many compliments 
 to Mrs. Pursey) ; but, after a few visits paid by 
 this gentleman, she could not dislodge from her 
 mind a certain " she kne n not what," that made 
 her very uncomfortable. She warned Henry to 
 
154 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 be careful, and to find out all he could. She 
 believed that she was not generally a suspicious 
 person — far from it ; but in this case she must say 
 she had her doubts. Henry might mark her 
 words, and see whether or not she was right in her 
 suspicions : she would not be answerable for any 
 consequences. All she would say to her husband 
 was — "Beware." Are women more suspicious 
 than men ? or, at a glance, do they see farther ? 
 Are they generally of a less generous disposi- 
 tion? or is it the greater acuteness of their 
 sympathies that enables them to discern, with 
 a quicker gaze, the scoundrel beneath the bland- 
 ishments of a dandy man of honour ; or to read 
 hypocrisy where blinder man reads grace and 
 honour ? 
 
 The visitors who honoured the Purseys with 
 their company unanimously declared that the two 
 Wilsons were the finest specimens of that master 
 it had ever been their good fortune to behold. 
 Presently Henry's vanity was so tickled by this 
 extravagant praise of his friend's presents, that he 
 
PUBSEY ENTERTAINS TEE " CHILD r 155 
 
 caused two lamps to be made, to throw a light 
 upon the rich browns and greens of the flattered 
 Buggins. 
 
 The fine fruity port that had been in bottle 
 some twenty years to the certain knowledge of 
 Mr. Macfum (though old Solomon, who helped 
 to bottle it, had been in the employ of Mr. Moss 
 but eighteen months), was proudly treasured by 
 Henry Pursey. In short, Pursey declared the 
 fiery stuff, manufactured for old Zac, to be 
 the finest wine he had ever tasted ; and he 
 flattered himself he had swallowed some good 
 wine in his time. His heart still warmed 
 steadily towards Macfum. It was flattering to 
 his self-love that he should have awakened so 
 instantaneous and sincere a friendship as that 
 which it was very evident Macfum entertained for 
 him. He requested his wife in a magnificent way 
 to confine her disgraceful suspicions to her own 
 bosom ; and if she could not think as she ought to 
 think, at least to treat his friend with the utmost 
 courtesy whenever he might honour them with a 
 
156 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 visit. The wife, as in duty bound, promised to 
 obey tbe commands of her husband ; though, as she 
 affirmed with some pertinacity, she still had her 
 doubts, she would say nothing more : — but she had 
 her doubts. To show his utter scorn of his 
 wife's suspicions, as well as to parade his most 
 excellent wine, Pursey determined to bring all 
 the resources of little Briar Cottage into requi- 
 sition, and give a select dinner-party ; to consist 
 of Macfum and two or three of his (Pursey's) 
 intimate friends. It was in vain that Mrs. 
 Pursey urged the absence of a fish kettle, aud 
 the utter inefficiency of the kitchen range for the 
 purpose. Heury was firm in his resolve — he 
 would give the dinner. Whereupon (to do Mrs. 
 Pursey justice) the little woman busied herself 
 making the necessary preparations, shaping her 
 slender means to the end in view with a perfect 
 housewife's skill. Macfum consented to honour 
 Pursey with his company, provided the latter 
 would promise not to waste "that choice vintage" 
 on his guests. " For," said Macfum, " the man 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS TEE " CHILD r 157 
 
 who gives much of his best wines at his dinner- 
 parties, is ignorant of its value ; and has to learn 
 that after a certain point, men don't know the 
 difference between good and bad drink. They can 
 taste only the first three or four glasses. And," 
 added this self-denying individual, "for my part, 
 I prefer a glass of light French wine, this weather. 
 If you insist upon throwing away your port, mind, 
 I shall be party to no such criminal proceedings, 
 I warn you. Every day port rises in price : you'll 
 never replace that wine." But Pursey had deter- 
 mined to make his entertainment in every way 
 worthy of his distinguished guest; he therefore 
 gave no heed to the advice of his generous friend, 
 but made up his mind to uncork half-a-dozen of 
 his port, at least, on the great occasion. He took 
 care, however, out of deference to Macfum's sug- 
 gestion, to provide some light claret, so that his 
 kind and dear friend might indulge his preference. 
 The party was to consist of six persons only : 
 only ; and on the day appointed for the festivity, 
 poor little Mrs. Pursey was in a fever of excite- 
 
158 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 ment. She declared she should not have a 
 minute's peace until she had seen the turbot 
 dished up. In the early part of the day she was 
 in a desperate state of anxiety, lest the man she 
 had hired to wait should disappoint her, or become 
 intoxicated — as his wont was of an afternoon. Then 
 there was the chance of the fish breaking; and 
 then — ^who could tell ? — the chimney might catch 
 fire ! Who would be a woman I Mrs. Pursey 
 was heard to declare to a female friend afterwards, 
 that she would not bear so heavy a responsibility 
 again for all she could think of : no, not for a lapful 
 of gold. She was quite sure her mind would give 
 way under it. But, what did my lords care, so 
 long as they had what they wanted ? Men were 
 pigs — and she had always said so. 
 
 Pursey's four ordinary associates were punctual 
 to the hour. They declared graciously on their 
 way to Chelsea, " they were always in time 
 for a feed." Mr. Macfum, as became his lofty 
 station, impressed the company with a sense of his 
 importance, after the fashion of lions of the old 
 
PURSEY ENTEBTAINS TSE " CHILD r 159 
 
 school, by keeping the dinner waiting for half-an- 
 hour. This delay on the part of Macfum was 
 never forgiven by Mrs. Pursey. Take this for a 
 general rule — a man who has once kept a lady's 
 dinner waiting for the space of half-an-hour has 
 lost her favour for ever. A woman's friendship 
 breaks — with the fish. Let the pudding turn out 
 badly, and it shall not fare well with the guest 
 who was late. 
 
 Pursey's dinner passed off very quietly. With 
 the dessert came the famous, the incomparable, 
 port. Macfum begged to be allowed to keep to 
 the claret, as he had been recommended by his 
 physician to drink no other wine, and very little 
 of that. He loved it, but he had to pay for it in 
 gout. Pursey excused his friend, with the most 
 graceful bow, and passed the bottle on to his other 
 guests, severally assuring them that they would 
 find that port no common wine— as indeed it 
 was not. They were all young men. They 
 accepted the port as of the very finest vintage, 
 and tried to persuade themselves that they 
 
160 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 liked it. Their connoisseur airs were not un- 
 marked. 
 
 Macfum observed tliem narrowly, and was 
 pleased to find that they agreed with him in 
 calling the wine in question a very fine glass of 
 port ; a little fruity, but excellent and full of body. 
 
 " Deuced fine ! upon my honour, Pursey," said 
 Mr. Augustus Person, a young man with an 
 incipient moustache and a hsp. " The beeswing is 
 perfect." And he held his glass languidly to the 
 light. 
 
 " My idea of a fine port, exactly," declared Mr. 
 Arthur Murton. "There's a fine flavour of the 
 wood." 
 
 ^' It's a nice wine — not too sweet," thought Mr. 
 Muskey, whose mind was wholly absorbed in his 
 new waistcoat, and some startling shirt-studs. 
 "Though I'm always afraid of port — it's apt to 
 discolour my face. It's heady, very heady." 
 
 And Mr. Alum could not justly appreciate high 
 qualities of the wine, inasmuch as his mouth was 
 out of taste — his tongue rough. So the five 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CHILD !' l^l 
 
 young men drank from Pursey's pet bin; and, 
 such is the force of imagination or blind ignorance 
 of youth, they conceived that they were enjoying 
 the noble juice of 1820. Macfum made a study of 
 this scene, for it was pregnant with a hopeful 
 lesson to him. It was fresh evidence of the gulli- 
 bility of the young ; and the moral he drew from 
 it was to this effect: — If you wish to dazzle a 
 young man, you should appeal to his judgment 
 mthout allowing him to exercise it. Thus, yoa 
 would say to him — "The best judges have pro- 
 nounced this port to be an exquisite wine : I give 
 it to you, for I know you are a judge in these 
 matters." He will then drink the most execrable 
 stuff, and declare it to be of first-rate quality. 
 You have appealed to his judgment and forestalled 
 it, by giving the decision of the greatest authorities 
 on the question ; you have put him on a level with 
 the highest. An old man will not be dazzled in 
 this way. When you have to deal with a man of 
 the world — that is to say, with one who is used to 
 the pettiness, the chicanery, and the vice of the 
 
CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 world — for in the estimation of most men he is 
 but a poor authority in any matter who is a 
 stranger to the grosser phases of life — you must 
 appeal directly to his judgment, accept it as final, 
 and, moreover, thank him for it. You need not 
 lollow it. 
 
 The young men, though they vowed that they 
 had seldom tasted so fine a wine, were, after a 
 time, particularly abstemious while any of it re- 
 mained upon the table. At first they smacked 
 their lips as they sipped it, and passed the bottle 
 about merrily ; but very soon their relish slack- 
 ened, and they adjourned to the claret-jug. 
 Macfum noted this effect of Moss's concoction, 
 and chuckled in his throat. Macfum plumed 
 himself on having a marvellous contempt for 
 human nature — a contempt gained, as such con- 
 tempt is generally gained, after a study of its 
 meaner phases. Men, to his thinking, were but so 
 many chessmen; life, the chess-board. Now the 
 cunning player held the king in check ; now the 
 castle frowned defiance on the king ; and now, in 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CHILDr 168 
 
 desperate strait, the king took refuge behind a pawn ! 
 And Macfum, in his complacent judgment^ believed 
 himself to be the Staunton, the Morphy of the 
 game — the subtle player who could turn the tables 
 upon his foe, in spite of the most conflicting dis- 
 advantages. He felt that he could twist these five 
 young men about his little finger, as the saying 
 runs. In the fancied fulness of his own power, 
 he contemplated their moral weakness — their for- 
 lorn gullibility — and pitied them. 
 
 The tedious party over, the commotion in Mr. Pur- 
 sey's establishment gradually subsided ; and again 
 the tide of time rippled on quietly — as time will glide 
 — from the day of acceptance to the day of payment. 
 
 In the first flush of wedded happiness, Henry 
 had given his wife permission to open his letters ; 
 he now repented of this permission. Macfum had 
 lately persuaded him to rescind the absurd license, 
 if he wished to lead a happy life. Macfum urged 
 that it was all very well for boys and girls to keep up 
 this insipid confidence, but that men of the world 
 knew that it was impossible for any length of time. 
 
 l2 
 
164 CENT PUB CENT. 
 
 " Suppose, for instaDce/' said Macfum, " I want 
 you to join me in a visit to Mdlle. Dellatante's at 
 Richmond ; how can I write to you, while your wife 
 opens your letters ? The thing is iYnpossible, my 
 dear boy — you must see that. And, hang it! 
 when we want to have a jolly night, how are you 
 to be got at if your wife sees all your letters ? You 
 see how utterly impracticable your scheme is. For 
 her sake, as well as your own, then, you shouldn't 
 allow it. Be firm, and say so; the sooner the 
 better.'' 
 
 Pursey, accordingly, ventured one morning to 
 suggest to the wife of his bosom that, as he did 
 not see the letters that came for her, he thought 
 that she should refrain from opening his. To 
 this proposition tbe wife replied, with a burst 
 of indignant passion, that her husband was per- 
 fectly welcome to see every line she received ; that 
 it was his own fault if he did not ; and that as she 
 had always opened his letters hitherto, she should 
 for the future ; so he might say what he pleased 
 about it. Henr) met this wilfulness with a positive 
 
PUBSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CHILD r 165 
 
 command that his letters be delivered to him un- 
 opened. He would be obeyed in his own house. 
 This provoked a conjugal dialogue, which it 
 matters not to report. The young couple parted 
 with mutual assurance of profound hatred. The 
 bosom of Mrs. Pursey heaved with indignation ; 
 and, having turned the matter over in her mind, 
 she came to the conclusion that she had never been 
 so grossly insulted in her life before, and that she 
 had made a wretched mistake — against which all 
 her friends warned her — in selecting for a husband 
 the man whose hated name she bore. And then 
 her maddened thoughts turned to Pursey the 
 lover — to Henry Pursey, the devout worshipper at 
 her feet in Charlotte-street; and she wept and 
 laid all the blame to poor Yocarme. She went 
 to her bedroom and unpacked her wedding gar- 
 ments, and cried over them, and thought of the 
 day when she bought and wore them. Presently 
 a postman's knock resounded through the house. 
 Mrs. Pursey started at the sound. She had 
 resolved upon maintaining her right. Yes, yes, at 
 
166 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 least, some little memory of his past confidence 
 should yet be hers. 
 
 The letter was marked " immediate," and ran as 
 follows : — 
 
 " My dear Harry, 
 
 " I wish to see you immediately 
 on the most important business. The overland 
 mail is in, and by it I have a letter from my 
 uncle • the dilatory old ruffian excuses himself 
 irom sendmg any remittance per this post, and 
 promises a double supply by the next. This is 
 extremely unfortunate, inasmuch as the bill to 
 which you were kind enough to attach your name 
 for me becomes due the day after to-morrow. You 
 know me too well to imagine that I would allow 
 any harm to come to you, if I could possibly avoid 
 it. Really, one cannot place the least confidence 
 in relations — they are so deuced crotchety. Pray 
 meet me to-morrcw at Perkins's. I think I can 
 arrange matters to our mutual satisfaction. As- 
 suring you that I would make any sacrifice rather 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CHILDr 167 
 
 than allow you to be saddled with my bill, I am, 
 
 as ever, dear Harry, 
 
 '* Julius Macfum. 
 
 " To Henry Pursey, Esq. 
 
 "I would not mention the matter to Mrs. 
 Pursey. Women do not understand these things ; 
 perhaps it's a great blessing that they do not. 
 
 ''J. M." 
 
 Mrs. Pursey had but the most indistinct notion ot 
 the nature of a bill. All she did know upon the 
 subject was, that it was some awful instrument th'it 
 worried men to death. She now fully appreciated 
 Henry's reasons for withdrawing his confidence 
 from her. She now began to think of the evenings 
 spent away, and to review all the extra expenses 
 in which of late Henry had indulged. 
 
 When he returned in the evening, she burst into 
 a flood of tears, and threw herself upon his neck, 
 and cried — 
 
 " Harry ! Harry ! what does all this mean ? 
 You have deceived me, and that Mr. Macfum and 
 
168 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 his fine friends will be the ruin of you. Think how 
 happy we were before you knew him ; when you 
 were quite content to come home and have your 
 tea, and spend your evenings with me ; when you 
 used to fetch me from papa's, and we walked home 
 happily enough all the way here, because we would 
 not afford an omnibus ; and your friends Person 
 and Minton were quite good enough for you. I am 
 sure everything's going wrong now, isn't it?" 
 
 Henry made the best of matters. Although his 
 wife's suspicions created in his own mind a passing 
 uneasiness,he soon drew him self up loftily, and said — 
 
 "My dear, you can't understand Mr. Macfum, 
 nor Conway, nor Whittlesea. You must not judge 
 them by the standard of men like Poor little 
 Person, or that vulgar-minded, though good fellow, 
 Minton. Even if Macfum for one moment wished 
 to do such a thing as to let me in as his security — 
 his name, my dear, is enough to prevent it. Henry 
 added, majestically, "People who have great 
 names, Mary, can't do little things. Noblesse 
 oblige. My dear, I am one of the queen's servants ; 
 
PURSEY ENTERTAINS THE " CSILBr 169 
 
 and you see I am thrown among people in a certain 
 station of life. Would you have me look like a 
 snob among them ?" 
 
 " A snob, Harry ? that's nonsense ! But you 
 needn't run into extravagances." 
 
 " What you choose to call extravagances, Mary 
 dear, are the necessities of my position. I've often 
 wanted to tell you that you should look a little 
 higher than you do. When people rise in the 
 world — it's very painful, I know — they must weed 
 their acquaintance. Of course, I like Porson as 
 much as I ever did. Didn't I ask him to meet 
 Macfum? But I can't afford to make myself 
 ridiculous." 
 
 "You were not ridiculous, Harry, when you 
 came home every evening, and we were quite com- 
 fortable together, and you saved money instead of 
 getting into debt. But now, that is too homely for 
 you." 
 
 " Too homely ? — nonsense, Mary ! You must 
 adapt yourself to our new society, and leave the 
 
170 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RENEWAL. 
 
 " I do fear, 
 When every feather sticks in his own wing, 
 Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, 
 Which flashes now a phoenix." 
 
 " So, Henry, I can now understand your motives 
 for not wishing me to open your letters," said Mrs. 
 Pursey ; renewing the conversation on the follow- 
 ing morning, throwing every word at him, as a 
 lance at an enemy. " You see, I opened it," she 
 added. Henry again took up Macfum's letter, 
 and Mrs. Pursey tossed her head, and looked 
 triumphant. 
 
 ^' And pray what discovery have you made, 
 madam ?" asked the husband, with superb 
 dignity. 
 
THE FIRST QUARREL. 
 
 " So, Henry, I cannoiv iinderstajid your motives for not wishing 7ne to open 
 your letters 1 1 !'' 
 
 " A7idpray what discovery have you made, Madatn ? " asked her hushand 
 with an atte^npt at dignity. 
 
THE RENEWAL. 171 
 
 '' Read the letter — read it. / knew what Mr. 
 Macfum was long ago. I warned you. But what 
 do you care about your wife — your home ? 
 Henry, you are on the highroad to ruin." 
 
 Pursey re-read the letter, folded it calmly, and 
 seating himself with portentous deliberation, 
 glanced indignantly at his wife. She met his 
 look of anger with that provoking indifference, 
 which woman can so well assume when bent 
 upon having the best of an argument ; and the 
 pair sat for some minutes in silence : — two 
 enemies taking breath. At length the husband's 
 anger oozed out. A sharp encounter ensued. The 
 sparring was clever on both sides. Mr. Pursey 
 failed in his attempt to exonerate his friend from 
 any dishonest intention in the eyes of his wife ; 
 neither did he convince her that she had acted 
 improperly in disobeying his injunctions as to the 
 opening of his letters. Mrs. Pursey set forth 
 some splendid feminine arguments in justification 
 of her position. All she knew was that she had 
 opened Mr. Macfum's letter, and that, whatever 
 
172 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Mr. Pursey might say, she should continue to 
 open any letters that came to Briar Cottage. As 
 she had said before, she had her doubts, and 
 Henry must not blame her if he was ruined by 
 his fine friends. He would not be the first dupe 
 who had been led to destruction by his own 
 vanity. 
 
 Completely forgetful of his wife's admonitions, 
 and trusting implicitly in the sincerity of Macfum's 
 friendship, Pursey found himself at the place of 
 appointment by the hour indicated in Macfum's 
 letter. Macfum was already there, and in a 
 most desponding state of mind. Beside the 
 dolorous Macfum sat Mr. Moss. The appearance 
 of the latter personage was certainly not prepos- 
 sessing ; and indistinct ideas of his resemblance to 
 the Jew attorneys painted by Dickens and others, 
 floated before the mental vision of the unsophisti- 
 cated Pursey. But a glance at Macfum reassured 
 him. Pursey's heart swelled with pity, and with 
 the hope that he had yet the power to relieve his 
 friend. Yes, come what may, he would stand by 
 
THE RENEWAL. 173 
 
 Macfum, for he was a fine-hearted fellow. Women 
 were by nature suspicious and narrow-minded, that 
 was patent to the world. 
 
 " My dear boy, how are you ?" said Macfum, in 
 a tone of melancholy, that would have thawed the 
 coldest heart, as he grasped Pursey's hand. "I 
 scarcely know how to meet you : you are really 
 and truly a friend — that rarest of friends — a friend 
 in need, my dear boy.'' 
 
 A minute observer might have detected a 
 smile, or rather a savage grin upon the oily 
 features of Mr. Moss. " He's a cute 'un, is Macfum," 
 Mr. Moss observed afterwards to his man. Pursey 
 assured Macfum that he was quite ready to do 
 anything that could extricate him from his trouble. 
 If friends could not be relied on in a little diffi- 
 culty like this, what was friendship worth ? 
 
 " Extricate Mr. Macfum !" interposed old Zac, 
 with the demon grin still upon his greasy features ; 
 " you are the acceptor of the bill, I believe ; are 
 you not ?" addressing Pursey. 
 
 " I am so,'' answered Pursey, in an embarrassed 
 
174 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 tone, and naturally turning to Macfum for a 
 solution of the mysterious discounter's words. 
 
 " Hang it, I shouldn't care a rap if the conse- 
 quences fell only on me. But it is you, my dear 
 boy, it is your being involved in the matter, that 
 cuts me to the heart," said Macfum ; " I never let 
 a friend in in all my wretched life ; it cuts me to 
 the quick, my dear Pursey." 
 
 Still old Zac grinned, and could scarcely refrain 
 from clapping his hands in the hugeness of his 
 approbation. Was ever such sweet simplicity 
 seen before ? Was he at the theatre ? Could 
 he not for the moment, fancy himself in the pit, 
 witnessing the performance of a clever actor ? 
 Pursey must be doing his best to play a part. He 
 would do, at the worst, for the stage. 
 
 " What's to be done ?" at length asked Pursey, 
 anxious for a solution. "To what extent am I 
 involved ? Let me know the worst, and we'll see 
 what can be done." 
 
 "Didn't you read the amount? Here is the 
 bill for one hundred pounds, sir, only a hundred," 
 
THE RENEWAL. 175 
 
 said Zac, chuckling. " I daresay you will be glad 
 to take it up for your friend, as the amount is not 
 heavy." 
 
 These words cut as sharp as razors, 
 
 " That is no affair of yours, Mr. Moss ; you will 
 not take it up, I know. I asked you here to see 
 if we could come to some arrangement for the 
 renewal of the bill. We perfectly understood that 
 your Jew's heart had no sympathy with a man's 
 misfortunes. You'd thrust a writ into the 
 clenched hands of a dying man, so utterly are you 
 without any ieehng beyond your sordid, grasping 
 usurers' love of cent per cent. You may retire, 
 Mr. Moss, to do your worst. Go ; men don't look 
 to stones or Jews, for pity. And if there's one 
 recollection that can sweeten a man's deathbed 
 more than another, it is, that on all hands it is 
 agreed that there are no usurers beyond the 
 grave. Unfortunately, I am the rolling stone that 
 has gathered moss. 
 
 Mr. Moss rose and prepared to take his de- 
 parture. He contented himself with shaking his 
 
176 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 instrument of torture (the bill) before his friends, 
 and, growling between his teeth, " You had better 
 be punctual," stalked out of the room. 
 
 '' Isn't it melancholy to be in the hands of such 
 a miscreant ?'' said Macfum, when the discounter 
 had effected his disappearance. '' Doesn't it 
 put one out of humour with human nature to 
 see such utter animals, such grovelling brutes, 
 crawl this earth, and with brazen impudence call 
 themselves men. I've been talking to that fellow 
 for the last two hours ; I've put my case to him, 
 appealed to him, as man to man ; but no, sir, 
 he didn't see my distress, couldn't bring himself to 
 sympathize with my misfortunes. He's an old lump 
 of ugly granite : the most sightless and degraded 
 piece of Nature's pottery it has ever been my mis- 
 fortune to meet. Upon my word, Pursey, it does 
 one's heart good to meet you after such a fellow. 
 Such men as you sweeten the earth," and Macfum 
 warmly shook Pursey 's hand. 
 
 " Come, how can I assist you in this matter ? I 
 haven't a sixpence at my command just now, so I 
 
THE RENEWAL. 177 
 
 fear I must be utterly powerless. I'll do all within 
 my means, but pray screen me from that Jew/' 
 Pursey spoke, with terror in his voice. Mr. Moss 
 looked the implacable creditor he was. 
 
 " My dear boy, you probably know if I disho- 
 nour my bill, you are answerable for the amount ?" 
 
 "Good God, Macfum!" 
 
 For the first time Henry trembled for the issue 
 of the matter. So secure had he felt in Macfum's 
 management of the business, that it had never 
 struck him that he, more than his friend, was in 
 danger. 
 
 " Pray, don't alarm yourself, my dear Pursey," 
 interrupted Macfum, soothingly ; " no harm shall 
 come to you, depend upon it. I would lose my 
 right hand rather than see you scathed in this 
 matter. My honour is at stake, need I say more ? 
 You shall not suffer the loss of one farthing, while 
 I have health and strength." 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear Macfum, you can under- 
 stand my alarm. A demand upon me for such a 
 
 sum " 
 
 M 
 
178 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 "Recollect, my dear Pursey, that there is no 
 demand upon you for a farthing. I trust you do 
 not intend to put forth such a supposition, that 
 affects my word and honour as a gentleman." 
 
 "I am the last man in the world to say any- 
 thing to offend you, Macfum ; at the very least, you 
 ought to know that by this time. On the contrary, 
 I cannot express to you the earnestness of my 
 desire to be of some service to you in your unfor- 
 tunate dilemma." Pursey was now perfectly 
 reassured : he had not mistaken Macfum ; Macfum 
 was a fine fellow, a true man of honour. 
 
 "I have no favour to ask of you, Pursey," said 
 Macfum, somewliat coldly ; " and as it is getting 
 late, and I have an appointment at seven, I must 
 be going." 
 
 Pursey was touched at the sudden change in 
 the manner of his friend, and thoroughly ashamed 
 of his own past fears. He insisted, there- 
 fore, upon detaining Macfum, that he might 
 thoroughly restore himself in his good opinion. 
 Macfum was pleased to yield. 
 
THE RENEWAL. 179 
 
 "My dear Macfum," said the latter, with 
 emotion, "I have, however unwillingly, wounded 
 your feelings. We are friends of but short 
 acquaintance, yet I trust that, nevertheless, we 
 entertain for each other a regard not often felt so 
 suddenly. I must confess that you have awakened 
 in me a strong friendship for you, and great admi- 
 ration for your talents ; and all that I have to beg 
 of you is, that in your need you will not withhold 
 from me the pleasure of serving you to the utmost 
 of my power. I see you embarrassed. As your 
 friend, I ask you earnestly, can I serve you ? 
 Don't be afraid : I cannot do much, but all I can 
 doj shall be done heartily. Try me." 
 
 " I must own, Pursey, that I felt hurt by some 
 exclamations which escaped you a few minutes ago. 
 But now I understand you, and, believe me, any 
 past feeling of pique shall be forgotten. I will be 
 equally candid with you, seeing that you are so 
 truly my friend ; and will at once own that you 
 can serve me, and effectually. I would rather not, 
 however, put you to the test ; since your refusal 
 
 M 2 
 
180 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 must at once put an end to our acquaintance, inas- 
 much as it would imply want of confidence on your 
 part in my honour. It is better I should not put 
 our recent friendship to so severe a trial." 
 
 "My dear fellow, I promise you beforehand. 
 Speak, and without hesitation." 
 
 " Well, then, unsolicited by me, you consent to 
 accept another bill to the amount of that previously 
 accepted by you for me. It is only a matter of 
 form to delay the payment of the other three 
 months. You see your acceptance of this will 
 enable me to pay that due in a few days ; so that 
 I shall gain the time that must expire before the 
 arrival of my remittance." 
 
 Henry at once assented to this plausible propo- 
 sition, signed the bill, and took leave of his friend 
 without any misgivings at his heart. 
 
 And Macfum, who always persuaded Moss to 
 cash his bills, on the assurance that his aristocratic 
 acquaintance would rather pay the amount ten 
 times over than see him (Macfum) locked up, and, 
 on other mysterious grounds of interest which the 
 
THE RENEWAL. 181 
 
 two had together, wended his way to old Zac's 
 office, confident in the result of his visit. 
 
 When Pursey returned home, he observed, 
 magnificently, to his wife — 
 
 "I have just had a proof, madam, that Mr. 
 Macfum is a most delicate-minded — a most chi 
 valrous gentleman." 
 
182 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GAME PROCEEDS. 
 
 "A pill 
 Gilded to hide the bitterness it brings." 
 
 Beaumont and Fletchee. 
 
 ''You're a nice kind of fellow — ^you are, my 
 Simple Child/' said Mr. Zachariah Moss, from his 
 walnut- wood chair, in the parlour of the ' Bit of 
 Paper,' on the evening of the day when Mr. Moss 
 and Pursey and Macfum met together for the first 
 time. ** That young man will lose his situation as 
 sure as my name's Zac. Moss. And what's become 
 of Conway and Whittlesea, I should like to know ? 
 Not seen those birds for the last two or three days. 
 A pretty set of fellows youVe pitched me into ! 
 There they are discounting away, right and left ; 
 carrying on high jinks, giving dinners and suppers, 
 as though a bill was of no more importance than a 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 183 
 
 seidlitz powder paper. And then they come down 
 here, with a quarter of my interest, and call me 
 * Old Zac ;' stand a beggarly pint of sherry, and go 
 off in a high-shouldered manner. Now, you know, 
 this wont do for me, Child. I must have my inte- 
 rest, and I must see my children." 
 
 " If it's to be a growl, Zac, say so — and I'm off. 
 You're not content when you're coining money!" 
 
 "Coining money? — that wont do to-night, 
 Simple Child. None of that for Zac to-night, 
 please. I feel nasty ; so now you have it. Besides, 
 I've heard something I'm not pleased at." 
 
 " Out with it !" Macfum blew a prodigious 
 cloud, and waited. " Don't be nervous, Mr. Moss : 
 make no stranger of me. Unbosom yourself at 
 once. It's always the best way." 
 
 " Well, Simple Child : now, I daresay you think 
 you are very cunning. You have quite made up 
 your mind nobody can see any of your tricks. 
 But they're getting stale, Child, and, to be plain, 
 I'm going to draw in. So, now, look out, all of 
 
 you.^' 
 
184 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 "All right, but out with your grievance, Zac. 
 It will ease you. Who's interfered with your cent 
 per cent, eh ?" 
 
 " Now look here. Child." Mr. Zachariah Moss 
 spoke under his breath, and with his wicked eyes 
 full of bad passion. "Those boys Conway and 
 "Whittlesea have been doing it with Turnbull. 
 You know what my rule is when anybody goes to 
 that scoundrel ?" 
 
 " To begin with — how do you know they have 
 been to Turnbull V Mr. Macfum asked, seriously, 
 seeing the anger in the eyes of Mr. Moss. 
 
 " How do I know that I am breeched, Mr. 
 Macfum ?" roared Mr. Moss. 
 
 " Well, how do you know that you are ?" Mr. 
 Macfum coolly replied. "From your talk, I 
 should rather think you were not, or ought not to 
 be." 
 
 " I tell you they have been to TurnbulFs, and 
 that you know it." 
 
 Mr. Macfum leaned insolently across the table 
 towards Mr. Moss, puffed his smoke within an inch 
 
TEE GAME PROCEEDS. 185 
 
 of his nose and defiantly answered, "Well, Mr. 
 Moss, and grant you are right, what then ?" 
 
 "Ill— I'll " 
 
 " 1^11 do nothing — that's about it. Live and let 
 live. If you want them all to yourself, take them, 
 and welcome. But being compelled by circum- 
 stances to put their noses to the grindstone, they 
 naturally go where the stone is softest, as I shall — 
 do you hear that? — if you don't do this first renewal 
 on moderately good terms : and so you are warned. 
 Now, Mr. Moss, put that in your pipe, and, at your 
 perfect leisure, smoke it Pass your glass." 
 
 A bowl of punch was between the two gentlemen 
 who were holding this conversation. Mr. Moss 
 pushed his glass forward to be filled. He never 
 permitted his business to interfere with his plea- 
 sures. Besides, this was not a very stormy conver- 
 sation for the parlour of the " Bit of Paper." 
 
 While " the governor" was bringing the Simple 
 Child to book, Mr. Tim Selph was sitting meekly 
 in the comer of the room enjoying the scene, and 
 hoping that Mr. Moss would, once for all, rid 
 
186 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 himself of Mr. Macfum. But Mr. Moss could cal- 
 culate better than Mr. Tim, as their present rela- 
 tive positions proved. Tim was rogue enough for 
 anything, but he hadn't (and old Solomon deplored 
 the fact daily), he hadn't "the governor's head- 
 piece." 
 
 " Those boys will be as naked as crows before 
 they are thirty," growled Old Zac. " It's very 
 wrong of you, Child : you shouldn't let them go to 
 TurnbuU's/' 
 
 " Then, why don't you treat them better, Zac ?*' 
 
 "Treat ^em better? — if they was my own 
 children, I couldn't be more tender with them. 
 Would anybody who wasn't a soft-hearted fool, 
 take a quarter of his interest, as I did? — and, then, 
 they don't come to see me." 
 
 " It isn't so pleasant." 
 
 " Ain't it, though ! Now, I tell you what you 
 shall do. Simple Child : you shall stand another 
 bowl of punch for that insolent observation." 
 
 "All right!" Mr. Macfum answered, "and over 
 it let us finish up this Pursey's bill affair. It must 
 
THE GAME FROCEEDS. 187 
 
 be renewed. I know you mean to renew it. The 
 terms ?" 
 
 " Come to my office in the morning." 
 
 "IcanV 
 
 " Then to begin with, Child, I shall want ten 
 pounds down — interest and costs j and I'll only 
 renew for a month — mind that; and if it isn't 
 settled to-morrow, I shall want twelve pounds." 
 
 " Vampire I" cried Mr. Macfum. 
 
 " Vampire be hanged ! a good man of business, 
 I don't deceive anybody. I'm a man of my word. 
 If I tell a man I'll wait — I wait. If I tell him 
 I'll lock him up — then he may be certain old Zac 
 Moss will do it. I don't ask 'em to come to me. 
 I don't cheat 'em about terms. A shilling a pound, 
 a month, when the bill's a tolerably good one — 
 that can't hurt any gentleman, and if it does, 
 it's his own fault, not Zac Moss's." 
 
 "Yes, yes, you're a straightforward cannibal, 
 Zac. They understand it's a pound of their own 
 flesh you mean to cut out with your knife ; and 
 out it comes — with an ounce over occasionally." 
 
188 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " That's my business, Child. I hope everybody 
 sleeps as quietly as old Zac does. I shouldn't 
 think you did for one.'^ 
 
 " No. I lie awake thinking what will become 
 of you in the end." 
 
 *' Chaff away/' cried Mr. Moss, " we shall see 
 who'll have the best of the laugh at last. But 
 mind, to-morrow, ten pounds to-morrow ; twelve, 
 the next day. Mr, Pursey must be able to manage 
 that, and he'll be delighted to do it for his dear 
 friend Macfum, However, that's no business of 
 mine. I'd better see you to-morrow ; and look up 
 that Conway, and that Whittlesea, it will be better 
 for them." 
 
 Macfum rose to leave. 
 
 "And now you're off to your haunts, I suppose, 
 with that precious Conway and the rest, spending 
 money that would pay an honest fellow like me, 
 interest and principal, too. Now, don't lead Pursey 
 astray," Moss continued, in his wickedest manner 
 ■ — " with a young wife, and all. Leave him to enjoy 
 his tea at home — do." 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 189 
 
 Henry Pursey had done with tea and muffins, 
 however, already. It was too late to persuade him 
 that the advice his wife had implored him to adopt 
 was the best advice, and that the road on which he 
 had started, with dashing companions, was a down- 
 hill road with a very dismal wilderness, indeed, at 
 the end of it. He had not, to begin with, the ten 
 pounds peremptorily demanded by Mr. Moss to 
 renew Macfum's bill. He had already begun to 
 contract those little debts that prick and goad 
 every hour. His quarter's salary was almost 
 expended six weeks before the next was due 
 And how was he to tell his wife this ? The gap 
 must be filled up, and Macfum offered him the 
 stopping at the right moment. The temptation 
 came in an hour of weakness. 
 
 " Now, look here, my dear boy," said Macfum, 
 "that cormorant Moss wont renew the bill, unless 
 I can give him ten pounds before four o'clock 
 tomorrow. Be frank with me. "Would a little 
 money just now be of service to you T 
 
 " Of the very greatest," said Henry. 
 
190 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " Well, I think I can get yo\x a five-and-twentj, 
 if that will do. I'll take ten for myself, and that 
 will be thirty-five. We'll make it forty- one with 
 interest. I wont take it to that Moss, for, as you 
 say, he is a very bad egg, indeed. No, I think I 
 know somebody who will do it for us without any 
 trouble/' 
 
 And so Mr. Henry Pursey's name appeared for 
 the second time on a bill stamp ; and he was put 
 forward on his road to the parlour of the " Bit of 
 Paper." 
 
 The poor little wife grieved her heart out at 
 home, as the solitary days flew by, and later and 
 later her husband returned home. There was a 
 baby. That was some comfort to her, although 
 she wept over it by the hour, wondering what 
 would become of its helplessness, with only such a 
 father as it had to protect it. 
 
 * Speak to him, dear father," she would say to 
 Mr. Caddyson, when he called upon her, '* for I 
 know he is going headlong to ruin. He is no 
 longer the Henry he was. When he does come 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 191 
 
 home, he is ill-tempered, and everything is wrong. 
 He tells me to hold my tongue, when I complain. 
 He says that he knows his own business best, and 
 that I am a foolish, stupid woman. But all sorts 
 of strange people come to the house. I am sure 
 the neighbours have remarked it ; and they 
 threaten, and leave awful looking papers for him, 
 which they say must be attended to before twelve 
 o'clock the next day. He is from morning till 
 night with that Mr. Macfum, and that Mr. 
 Conway, and a lot of other men I don't know, 
 and Lord somebody, I forget his name. I know ; 
 time after time, he is late at his office. That can't 
 do him any good, can it? One night when he 
 came home, he frightened me so ; he looked as 
 if he had been fighting. He told me he had 
 fallen down, but he never used to fall down. And 
 then it's the greatest difficulty in the world to get 
 any money from him, and so I can't pay the baker 
 or the butcher. And then, all of a sudden, he has 
 his pocket full of gold, and he buys me something 
 that I'm sure I don't want. What can it all 
 
192 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 mean, dear papa ? You see, "when I tell him you're 
 coming, he goes out/' 
 
 " I am very sorry for you, my poor child/' said 
 Mr. Caddyson, who had heard more of Henry's 
 proceedings in a professional way, than he cared to 
 tell his daughter. " But above all, don't be angry 
 with him — donH quarrel with him." 
 
 " I am sure," said the little woman, choking 
 with grief, '' I am sure, I try to be as kind to him 
 as I can, if it's only for baby's sake. Day after 
 day I beg him to spend, at any rate, one or two 
 evenings at home with us. But this only irritates 
 him the more. He has something on his mind, 
 and looks dreadful at times. He tosses about in 
 his sleep, and gets out of bed, and walks about 
 the room^ till he nearly sends me out of my mind. 
 I think if you were to speak to him, dear papa, 
 'twould do some good." 
 
 " I can advise him and speak to him, my dear 
 child," Mr. Caddyson answered, " but what con- 
 trol have I over him ? And I will speak to him, 
 and that very firmly. What is his mother — what 
 are his friends thinking about ?" 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 193 
 
 " His mother/'' the wretched wife said. " She 
 wont speak to him ; nor will his uncle, nor will 
 any of them. His mother came one night and 
 caught him when he was at home, by accident ; 
 and you never heard such a noise as there was. 
 She told him that he was going on just as his 
 father had before him, and that he would soon 
 lose his appointment, and we should all be begging 
 in the streets.^^ 
 
 The little woman hugged her baby close to her, 
 and wept bitterly, and would not be consoled. 
 
 " If the worst comes to the worst, my dear," 
 her father said tenderly to her, " remember that 
 you have always your home to return to, and you 
 know I never wished you to leave it. But he is 
 your husband, and you must bear with him, and 
 remain with him as long as you can. It may not 
 be quite so bad as you think it is. He is a very 
 young man, and many a young man who has done 
 worse things than he has done yet, has repented 
 of his evil ways, and become an honourable and a 
 prosperous member of society. It is very hard 
 
 N 
 
194 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 for you, so young as you are, to have all these 
 trials ; but you must take courage, my dear child, 
 and remember the poor little infant you have in 
 your arms will look to you for comfort, and to you 
 only, if — and I hope to God it will not be the case — 
 the worst comes to the worst/' 
 
 These fatherly words gave comfort for a time to 
 Mary Pursey. Mr. Caddyson did speak, and that 
 strongly, to his son-in-law. He was one of those 
 gentle men who had faith in what he called the 
 magic of kindness. So he did not bluster out as 
 many men would, to a misbehaving son-in-law. 
 
 " You are behaving very ill to Mary," he said 
 to Henry, " and you know it. You cannot disguise 
 from me the horible state of trouble into which 
 you have brought yourself and her, and your child. 
 Your bills are all over London, and in the worst 
 hands. I hear of bills cashed at sixty — nay, at 
 cent per cent ; of writs and renewals without 
 number ; of your spending your evenings at that 
 low haunt of that scoundrel Mr. Zachariah Moss. 
 Your habitual associates are a set of the loosest 
 
TSE GAME PROCEEDS. 195 
 
 men about London. Some of tliem are men of 
 excellently good family, I know ; but thej are the 
 scapegraces of their family ; men who dare not 
 meet their own father, or mother, or sisters. I am 
 told that two or three of the worst of them are, 
 unfortunately for yourself, in your own office ; and 
 that they are marked men there, as I am afraid 
 you must be by this time. Your affairs are so 
 bad that I dare say you're afraid to look them 
 boldly in the face. Do you never think of your 
 poor wife, and that helpless little child you have 
 brought into the world ; and what will become of 
 them, and what kind of name you will leave to it." 
 
 Henry Pursey, who had hung down his head 
 while this appeal was made to him, muttered 
 penitently, " I do — very often." 
 
 "Then, why don't you turn about, and face 
 your difficulties like a man ? Why don't you con- 
 fide them to me ? Do you think you could have 
 a better friend than I should be, for my own 
 daughter's sake ? Come, Henry," and Mr. Caddy- 
 son took his son-in-law's hand, "make a clean 
 
 N 2 
 
196" CENT PER CENT. 
 
 breast of it, and let us see what can be done ? 
 You know I am a poor man, and can offer you 
 little or no assistance in the way of positive money ; 
 but I am pretty well versed in all the wicked 
 machinery of this swindling, bill - discounting 
 system. I know that for every fifty pounds you 
 or your friends may have got, you will have to pay, 
 unless you are very fortunate, considerably more 
 than a hundred. No wonder we lawyers have a 
 very questionable reputation — there are so many 
 black sheep in the profession. There are nests of 
 them, who plunder within the law. They know 
 exactly how far they may go, and every poor 
 debtor who comes within their clutches, who could 
 pay his debt with a little time, but is never able 
 to pay his debt and costs, — they drag him through 
 the mire ; they destroy his self-respect ; they make 
 him dance like a coward and a sneak in their 
 outer offices ; they sell him time at enormous in- 
 terest they discoves exactly what his income is, 
 and what his expectations are ; and they know 
 exactly how mucn they can tear out of his vitals. 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 197 
 
 They make it very easy to him at first. He gives 
 his bills, and he gives his renewals. They jumble 
 up renewals, original bills, costs, and interest ;— what 
 is paid on account, and what was left owing ; — until 
 they have got him into such a hurly-burly, and 
 his affairs into a confusion so inextricable, that 
 although he knows he has paid in solid coin of the 
 realm very much more than he has ever received, 
 he finds himself their debtor to double the orio-inal 
 amount of his debt. He is appalled with a quire 
 of foolscap, which represents his bill of costs. He 
 suddenly discovers that his entire income would 
 not pay the costs of his bloodthirsty attorney. 
 He becomes reckless. Day by day he treads into 
 all the dirt and disgrace of debt — and debt in its 
 worst and most galling form. His honest trades- 
 men who have supplied him and his family with 
 meat and drink, must go without their money, 
 because his attorney must have all. He is racked 
 with anxiety. He is thrown into the most dis- 
 reputable company. He is compelled to make 
 mean shifts and excuses, and he is at last run 
 
198 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 down like a hare. Is this true, or is it not, 
 Henry r 
 
 "As far as my wretched experience goes at 
 present it is quite true, sir," Henry replied. 
 
 " The law allows all this roguery. I have seen 
 things done, and done within the law and by 
 lawyers, ten thousand times worse than the 
 offences which are punished at the Middlesex 
 sessions with a few years' penal servitude. There 
 is that little Tim Selph — understand I am speak- 
 ing to you in confidence, Henry — who is as finished 
 a little rogue as ever deserved to stand at a whip- 
 ping-post. Another I might point out to you> who 
 is a well-dressed, sleek, smiling, respectable, church- 
 going villain. He fawns on his victims, while he 
 stabs them. He utterly destroys them by saving 
 them from ruin. He resorts to the execrably 
 mean old device of putting all his own moral tur- 
 pitude and savage greed upon others behind the 
 scenes, for whom he acts. You know 'a man 
 may smile and smile, and be a villain.' This man, 
 I mean, has a laughing, twinkling eye, a soft voice 
 
TRE GAME PROCEEDS. 199 
 
 (an excellent thing in attorneys) , a warm grasp of 
 the hand, and" — Mr. Caddyson shook with his 
 excitement — "a heart of the very devil himself, 
 sir. I heard an anecdote of that man once that 
 turned my blood cold, and I have seen some start- 
 ling things in my time. He had worked a young 
 nobleman, whose name I need not mention, to the 
 bones. He had got everything that couid be got 
 out of him. He wore the poor fellow's diamond 
 studs ; he had his dressing-case in his oack office 
 he had his bills, his post-obits, and in fact 
 all the necessary machinery for pouncing upon 
 every halfpenny the young man had, or might 
 have, under any contingency. What a comely, 
 bright-eyed soldierly fellow he was when I first 
 saw him in that scoundrel's office. Heavens ! 
 what a wreck in a few years, when I was called 
 to see him in a back street on a level with the 
 bed of the Thames, in a row thrust in a corner, 
 somewhere between Waterloo and Blackfriars 
 Bridges. He was in the most wretched little 
 lodging. He wore a dressing-gown that I well 
 
200 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 remember, was out at the elbows. His hair was 
 
 unbrushed, and his Hnen well, well, I saw the 
 
 wreck of him. But he was a gentleman still, and 
 spoke like a gentleman. He had been dragged 
 down to this — foolish young man that he was. His 
 family had disowned him; his brother, the marquis 
 who had all the estates, had declined to do any- 
 thing for him, except to have left at his door^ by 
 one of his servants, two sovereigns every week. 
 He had been recommended to send for me that 
 I might endeavour to advise a way out of his 
 woful plight. He was very ill when I first saw 
 him — his eyes were sunk, his face was tallowy- 
 . white, and his hands showed every vein and 
 sinew. His pipe seemed to be the only consola- 
 tion left to him ; and I saw one or two of his 
 college books lying upon the dirty tablecloth. 
 You would be surprised, Henry, to hear the great 
 name this unfortunate young gentleman bore. 
 He was frank with me about his affairs ; and when 
 he came to speak of the man who had driven his 
 knife deepest into his flesh, it was with no vulgar 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 201 
 
 rant or passion, but, Henry, in the manner of a 
 gentleman. It was wonderful to see the quiet 
 scorn with which he, in that squalid little parlour, 
 looked down upon the rich villain who had him 
 in his grip, and held him only to strip him. I 
 advised him at once to relieve himself by taking 
 the benefit of the Act. He was very reluctant. 
 We had a long talk, and he asked me to call 
 again in a few days. It must have been ten days 
 afterwards when I did call for the second time. 
 
 " * Hush,' whispered a poor, dirty, ragged little 
 child who opened the door. 'Mr. Campbell is 
 very ill." 
 
 '' Campbell was the name he went under there. 
 I went into the little parlour. A rough customer, 
 whom I knew at once to be one of Benjamin's 
 men, was sitting there reading a BelVs Life he 
 had borrowed from the neighbouring public-house. 
 
 " ' What's the matter here,' I said to him, in an 
 undertone. He made no answer, but jerked his 
 big black thumb towards the folding-doors. Mr. 
 Campbell had been found out, and was in the 
 
202 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 custody of the sheriff's man. A minute or two 
 afterwards, dressed in raven black, with a great 
 show of snow-white linen, his face made up to 
 express the utmost benevolence and sorrow, his 
 neat black gloves tightly buttoned over the wrist, 
 and carefully folding one or two pieces of paper, 
 
 Mr. , but I must not tell you his name, passed 
 
 me and went into Mr. Campbell's room. I waited, 
 wondering what new bit of cruelty was enacting 
 now ; but I never dreamt for a moment it could 
 be as bad as it actually was. Presently the land- 
 lady put her head through the folding doors, and 
 whispered to me, — 
 
 " ' He wants to speak to you for a minute, sir." 
 '•' I. followed on tiptoe into the room. I could see 
 very well, for the blind had been just drawn up. 
 There was the poor young man propped up in his 
 bed, and Mr. Blank we will call him — for we may, 
 the villain — had his arm about him, and was 
 guiding his hand over a piece of paper. 
 
 " ' You see,' the villain turned aside to me and 
 said, * he is quite sensible.' 
 
THE GAME PROCEEDS. 203 
 
 ** The paper was signed. It was a bill ; and the 
 sick man fell back upon his pillow. He could 
 just say, as I approached the bed, * Mr. Caddyson, 
 you see they wont let me die in peace. Is he 
 gone .'' 
 
 " The villain had hastily placed the papers in 
 his pocket, and had stolen away from the house. 
 
 " ' He is,' I answered. 
 
 " * Heaven be praised !' the young man mur- 
 mured faintly. 
 
 " * Can I do anything for you ?' I asked. I be- 
 lieve the tears were rolling down my cheeks, for 
 I had never been so affected before in my Ufe." 
 Mr. Caddyson here rose, and with energy con- 
 tinued — " Conceive the impious wretch who could 
 guide a dying man's hand to his own injury, who 
 could rob him within the very portals of death. 
 Well, that man lives, Henry, and is sleek, and 
 smiles, and still going to church every Sunday, 
 robs within the law for the rest of the week. 
 That poor young man died the next day — died, 
 the sheriffs man told me himself, while he was 
 
204 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 trying to make him swallow a little brandy and 
 water. Now, look you, Henry, you are in the first 
 act of such a tragedy, and it depends upon your 
 own energy and manliness to escape the last act 
 of it. Will you make me a clear statement at 
 once of all your liabilities ?" 
 
 " I will, and at once," said Henry, grasping his 
 father-in-law's hand. 
 
 " And now you will go straight home to Mary 
 and your child." 
 
 " Straight as an arrow, I promise you. Good- 
 bye ; thank you." 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAT. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 
 
 " Human destinies look ominous without some percep- 
 tible intermixture of the sable or the grey." 
 
 Hawthorne. 
 
 The events that follow will show that ail the good 
 advice of Mr. Caddyson was thrown away upon 
 Henry Pursey. 
 
 '' Make a clean breast of it," said Mr. Caddyson ; 
 but Henry could not — he dared not. Indeed it 
 would have been very difficult for him to explain 
 what he did not owe and what he did owe, and to 
 show how he stood with Mr. Zachariah Moss and 
 Mr. Turnbull. In vain Mr. Caddyson implored 
 his son-in-law to come to him with a true state- 
 ment, and in vain his wife prayed him to put his 
 affairs in her father's hands. He was too much 
 
206 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 ashamed of the condition of them, of his own 
 stupidity which they richly illustrated, to submit 
 them to the cool, critical eye of his father-in-law, 
 or any other candid, unprejudiced person. He 
 had done more by this time, in the way of fore- 
 stalling his income, than he cared to admit to any- 
 body. When he did not feel too much overcome 
 and crushed to make any exertion, he was reck- 
 lessly gay and oblivious of the future. He told 
 Mr. Caddyson's story of the young nobleman to 
 Macfum and Mr. Moss at the " Bit of Paper/' to 
 the great and hilarious delight of these gentlemen. 
 
 " I should like," Mr. Moss said, " to know what 
 there is so very horrible in it after all. We must 
 all die some time, I believe, Simple Child, mustn't 
 we V 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Macfum replied ; " all but creditors, 
 they never die." 
 
 " I don't mean to go off the hooks just yet, if 
 you mean that. Child ; at any rate, before I've 
 done with you and Pursey, who, I believe, owes 
 'goes' all round, and who promised us that we 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 207 
 
 should have that wonderful song of his to-night. 
 I see he's in first-rate spirits — come in for a 
 legacy, I shouldn't wonder, or been to TurnbulFs 
 again." 
 
 The song was sung, and the party were very 
 merry. Conway and Whittlesea were at their 
 brightest. Mr. Zachariah Moss was more urbane 
 than usual, and to the astonishment of the 
 whole party, actually stood a bowl of punch before 
 parting. 
 
 As the young men left the tavern and issued 
 into the Strand, late at night, some said that Zac 
 Moss was not such a bad fellow after all, while 
 others foretold disasters from this sudden and un- 
 accountable generosity. He had actions in every 
 stage of progress against all of them. They were 
 all staving off judgments, and cobbling bills and 
 debts from day to day, and none knew when the 
 storm might burst upon them. 
 
 As Mr. Pursey walked home alone, many ominous 
 thoughts rose to his mind ; for of late he had 
 had intimations that he had run to his tether with 
 
208 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 old Zac, and would soon be pulled up. The 
 gravity of his position had increased of late, day 
 by day, with fearful rapidity ; and day by day he 
 felt less courage to face his father-in-law and cast 
 himself, the whole story told, under his protection. 
 That unfortunate one hundred pound bill with 
 Macfum had been again and again renewed. 
 When part had been paid, then costs had swollen 
 it to the original amount, and new bills had grown 
 upon it with I.O.U.'s, ay, a bill of sale, etc. He 
 verily believed that if his mother discovered this 
 she would find her way into his house at the dead 
 of night, and strangle him. 
 
 Mr. Zachariah Moss meant mischief. Two days 
 after he called for that bowl of punch on his own 
 account, Pursey received the following letter from 
 the Simple Child : — 
 
 " My dear Pursey, 
 
 " I have horrible news to communicate. 
 I cannot get our renewal cashed ; I've tried in 
 every direction, and at any sacrifice ; and Moss re- 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 209 
 
 fuses to accept it as payment for the overdue one. 
 What the deuce is to be done ? I thought there was 
 a devil in that punch-bowl. You had better get out 
 of the way for a few days till I can arrange the 
 matter — only for a few days. My dear boy, I am 
 exceedingly grieved that you should be put to this 
 inconvenience ; but it is just and honourable I 
 should give you timely warning. The world is 
 coming to a pretty state of things, is it not, when 
 a gentleman can't get a bill for a paltry hundred 
 cashed ? Upon my word, I am so tired of the 
 rascalities and pettinesses of London, that I beo-in 
 to have serious thoughts of putting a ring through 
 my nose, eschewing paletots and trousers, being 
 tattooed after an artistic design (as a parting lift 
 to native talent) and settling on the Oronoko, with 
 a few squaws anda calumet. Joking aside; I would 
 earnestly advise you, my dear fellow, to take a 
 run out of town for a day or two, say to Ramsgate, 
 or Broadstairs, or Boulogne ; and, depend upon it, 
 no exertion shall be wanting on my part to effect 
 an arrangement with that old sinner Moss. He 
 
 o 
 
210 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 is a hard customer, and refuses only to squeeze 
 more discount out of me. 
 
 " Yours as ever, 
 
 "Julius Macfum. 
 " Tell your wife and family to be careful how 
 they answer the street-door, as one of Moss's men 
 will be lurking about ; and if he gets you before 
 you are off, it will play the deuce with you. — J. M. 
 I cannot sleep for thinking of you. There are 
 nothing but cares and crosses in this world. You 
 can make it all right, I suppose, at the office ?" 
 
 Pursey had certainly an humiliating part to 
 perform in communicating the pith and substance 
 of this letter to his wife. He stammered, played 
 with his handkerchief, fondled the dog, and then 
 he wound himself up to begin. He hinted a 
 point, then blundered round about his meaning ; 
 for he dreaded the storm that would burst upon 
 him, and which he well deserved should burst 
 upon him. Mrs. Pursey sat armed at all points. 
 He could not deny that he had acted culpably. 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 211 
 
 He had been warned again and again, and he was 
 now left face to face with ruin, and with not a 
 single excuse for it. 
 
 " Now, Henry, I must insist upon knowing the 
 reason of this gloom. Tell me this minute. A 
 woman has a right to her husband's confidence. 
 I have borne enough, and can bear no more." 
 
 She had indeed borne enough, and more than 
 enough. Not always with patience, for Mrs. 
 Caddyson had taught her daughter, much to the 
 annoyance of her father, certain very lofty ideas 
 on the rights of woman. Mrs. Pursey was too 
 mild and amiable a young lady by nature to care 
 much about asserting rights. She would have 
 been quite content to have loved her husband and 
 to have followed him. But when, in spite of every 
 remonstrance from herself and parents, he had 
 neglected her in his difficulties, she must say she 
 felt bound to assert herself. A wife who has made 
 up her mind in a passion to assert her rights is apt 
 to overdo the thing, but Mrs. Pursey did not fall 
 into this mistake. In a rage at his wife's new 
 
 o2 
 
212 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 assumption, Mr. Pursey one day made an organ- 
 boy a present of three volumes of '' Mrs. Ellis," 
 which Mrs. Pursey had contrived to buy out of 
 the housekeeping money. Mrs. Pursey vowed 
 that if it should be their misfortune to have a 
 girl born to them she would try and prevail upon 
 the authoress of "The Women of England" to 
 educate the little thing. Pursey, however, con- 
 tented himself with this significant rejoinder to 
 his wife's declared determination — " Will you ?" 
 Everybody had complimented Pursey upon his 
 marriage with a strong-minded woman. He had 
 won a perfect phrenological head : a lady who was 
 said to have political economy at her fingers' ends, 
 which she had not. 
 
 " A woman who is ever content with measuring- 
 her intellect against her husband's," had said Sir 
 Oracle Pursey, " is a wife whom few can covet, or, 
 possessing, can love long." 
 
 " I shall leave town for a few days on Sunday," 
 declared Pursey, with affected carelessness. " I 
 require a change ; in fact, I'm advised to have one." 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. ^13 
 
 " My dress wont be home before Monday night," 
 suggested the wife. 
 
 " I can't see what that has to do with my excur- 
 sion." 
 
 " Upon my word, Henry, things have come to 
 a delightful pass ! But I wont get into a passion ; 
 I'll be calm. I never in the whole course of my 
 life, heard of such behaviour ! And you have 
 taught me to expect something ! And where are 
 you going, may I ask ?" 
 
 " I've not made up my mind yet. I am going 
 on business. Surely I am old enough, madam, to 
 judge for myself in these trifling matters. I can 
 run without leading-strings." 
 
 " With Mr. Macfum, I suppose ?" said Mrs. 
 Pursey, pointedly, as with a stiletto, and curling 
 her eloquent lips, and tossing that extraordinarily 
 well-balanced head. 
 
 " On Mr. Macfum's business, as you guess," con- 
 tinued the husband, with assumed composure. " In 
 short, that Uttle affair between Macfum and my- 
 self has accidentally assumed a most unfortunate 
 
214 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 complexion, and it is necessary for me to get out 
 of the way for a week or ten days. Now, you 
 know all, and can make your comments at your 
 leisure ; I am listening/* 
 
 " My dear Henry, we have all told you how it 
 would be. It has come at last ; we shall every 
 one of us sleep in the streets. How wicked it is 
 of you, Henry, with poor baby who can just walk, 
 and all for no reason on earth. It is too cruel," 
 and the wife wound herself about her husband 
 and wept. 
 
 Mr. Pursey had iron-plated himself against the 
 mighty shot he expected. His distress and his 
 horrible long-continued anxieties had made him a 
 completely selfish animal. His nerves were not in 
 a condition to receive either reproach or remon- 
 strance. But the tears, as they fell from the poor 
 little woman's eyes upon his hands, melted the 
 iron-plates, and left him almost defenceless. 
 
 " Now it has come, Henry ; now all is over, and 
 we are ruined. Tell me, tell me everything, as I 
 have implored you so many days ; and at night, 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 215 
 
 you will remember, even on my knees. Some- 
 thing very horrible must be about to happen, or 
 you wouldn't have told me even as much as you 
 have. But I am glad it has come ; I am glad 
 there is an end of it, and whatever it may be, and 
 wherever we may have to go, understand that 
 from this moment I forgive you. I forgive you 
 too from the bottom of my heart, for I know the 
 torture you must have endured all this time, while 
 all these dreadful bills, and debts, and all these 
 horrible extravagances, and all this neglect of your 
 office, have been going on. Tell me at once, and 
 tell me truly/' and a careworn little face was 
 turned up to Henry's, " tell me, will they put you 
 in prison f 
 
 " No, no ; nonsense \" Pursey affected to laugh 
 at the bare idea of such a contingency, as 
 the maddest dream conceivable ; though, to say 
 truth, visions of an unpleasantly protracted game 
 of racquet had crossed his mind more than once 
 during the day. " Macfum's strict sense of honour 
 will not allow him to see me brought to ruin, 
 
216 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 depend upon it, Mary." Mr. Pursey kissed and 
 comforted his wife. 
 
 "I've no such high notion of Mr. Macfum's 
 honour. If he means well, Avhy does he put you 
 to the necessity of hiding, away from your home — 
 from your wife ; and of keeping away from your 
 office? Besides, Henry, you have difficulties in 
 every direction." 
 
 " It's only a matter of precaution.'' 
 
 " Yes ; to keep you from the clutches of a 
 sheriff's officer, I suppose. A matter of precaution 
 for his advantage. He and the rest of them 
 ought to be ashamed of themselves, and I shall 
 tell them so if I see them." 
 
 " Everything will be arranged in a day or two, 
 I tell you. Pray have a little patience. Men 
 understand these things better than women." 
 
 "And you really leave town to-morrow night, 
 do you r 
 
 " Certainly ; most unquestionably, my dear." 
 
 " A pretty prospect for me. Here am I to be 
 left, with only one bit of a servant in the house. 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 217 
 
 to watch the movements of two dirty fellows, 
 who'll be prowling about day and night, and per- 
 haps bribe Ann to let them in ; and all because 
 you choose to trust the happiness of your wife and 
 your child to the mercy of that Mr. Macfum and 
 his companions, whom you met in some tavern 
 when you had all had more than was good for 
 you. Upon my word, Henry, I have not patience 
 with you, although I have said I would have." 
 
 " It's no use croaking over a folly past, which 
 your ungenerous view makes almost a crime. I 
 tell you I must leave town to-morrow afternoon ; 
 that there's no help for it, and that you must not 
 tell anybody where I am gone, mind that." 
 
 "Pretty goings on in a decent house ! What 
 will the Medlers say ? and I asked them to take 
 tea with us on Tuesday. Was there ever such an 
 unfortunate woman as I am ? I shall go out of my 
 mind, Henry." 
 
 "You must put the Medlers off. That's no 
 great hardship, I'm sure." 
 
 " They are friends of my family, not of yours : 
 
218 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 recollect that. And if I smuggle them in, or put 
 them off, as you say, Tny family is compromised ; 
 yours, I am quite aware, is not so particular." 
 
 *' Don't talk to me about your family and 
 friends — a set of nobodies ; and the worst kind of 
 nobodies — nobodies who give themselves airs." 
 Imagine good Mr. Caddyson giving himself airs ! 
 
 After this fashion the young couple discussed 
 the impending calamity. Mrs. Pursey, throughout 
 the morning preceding her husband's departure, 
 indulged in alternate fits of anger and grief. Now 
 she vowed that her husband ought to be ashamed 
 of himself; and now she wondered what would 
 become of him amongst a set of foreigners at 
 Boulogne — for to this delightful region was Pursey 
 bound. To Boulogne, that convenient refuge from 
 duns and creditors; that blessed retreat where 
 brandy is cheap, and where every day is a Sunday 
 to the despairing debtor ! Late in the afternoon 
 Macfum arrived, to escort his friend to the vessel 
 that was to bear him beyond the seas. Mrs. 
 Pursey gave her husband's friend a frosty welcome, 
 
GETTINa OUT OF THE WAY. 219 
 
 for which Pursey afterwards apologized, alleging 
 as an excuse his wife's ignorance of legal matters. 
 Macfum accepted the excuse, for who knew 
 better than he woman's proneness to exaggerate 
 the most common legal form into the most 
 agonizing calamity ? He was wont to relate an 
 anecdote of a lady who went into fits when she 
 saw a policeman knock at her door with a sum- 
 mons, compelling the attendance of her husband 
 to answer the charge of refusing to pay a cabman's 
 just fare. 
 
 Macfum's dejection on this painful occasion was 
 truly touching. To see his most intimate friend 
 thus ruthlessly torn, though but for a few days, 
 from his dear home, was to him, he said, a most 
 harrowing scene. He would give worlds to 
 prevent it ; but he was, unhappily, for the moment, 
 only for the moment, powerless. He intended 
 proceeding by the early train on the morrow 
 morning in search of Lord Condiment, who was 
 on a shooting excursion somewhere in the High- 
 lands. Meantime, he thought candidly, that 
 
220 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 Pursey had better take a trip to Boulogne. He 
 might get back to dine with his wife on the follow- 
 ing Sunday. Thus reasoned the considerate 
 Macfum, and his plausible manner of putting the 
 circumstances of the case softened considerably 
 the harshness of Mrs. Pursey's judgment with 
 respect to him. 
 
 As Mrs. Pursey busied herself (with tears in her 
 eyes) cramming shaving tackle, linen, &c., into one 
 little carpet-bag, Macfum stood with his back to 
 the fire, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon a moss-rose 
 in the carpet, and his whole bearing denoting 
 profound regret for the trouble in which his friend 
 was placed. Pursey, on the contrary, tried to look 
 unconcerned, and gazed and smiled upon his wife 
 as she packed all the little necessaries which a 
 man would forget. 
 
 In vain did Pursey endeavour to engage 
 Macfum's attention on different subjects. Mac- 
 fum's gravity was immovable. At last Pursey 
 rose, took a farewell of his wife (who, by this time, 
 was in a most pathetic crying fit), and accompanied 
 
GETTING OUT OF THE WAY. 221 
 
 by Macfum, sought his berth on board the Boulogne 
 packet. 
 
 It was while Pursey stood on the wharf that a 
 shabby individual approached him, called him by 
 his name, and asked for a few words with him, 
 
 Pursey returned to his friend, ashy pale. 
 
 " A writ T Macfum asked. 
 
 " Neither more nor less. 
 
 " Then you are lucky." 
 
 " How so r 
 
 "It might have been much worse. I don't 
 know what old Moss could have been thinking 
 about." 
 
 " It isn't Moss," said the traveller. 
 
 Macfum shrugged his shoulders, and the friends 
 shook hands and parted. 
 
CENT PER CENT. 
 
 CHAPTER XTI. 
 
 " Men shut their door against a setting sun." 
 
 TiMON OF Athens. 
 
 Briar Cottage looked very different now from 
 the day when Mr. Julius Macfum first honoured 
 Henry Pursey with his company to dinner. The 
 flowers in the balcony were ragged and dying. 
 The bell was broken. The blinds of the front 
 rooms were drawn closely down. Mrs. Pursey was 
 never seen to go beyond the street-door. It no 
 longer looked the happy little home of two people 
 beginning the world in love with one another. 
 The door-steps were covered with muddy footprints. 
 It was a house of which the tax-gatherers said, 
 " It gave more trouble than any in the row." The 
 lamplighter had marked it as stingy in the matter 
 
THE MAN IN POSSESSION. 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Piirsey went into her back parlour and there discovered 
 old Solomon at full length upon the sofa, reading her /msbatid's pet edition of 
 \Byron. 
 
A MAN IN POSSESSIONr 223 
 
 of Christmas-boxes. Mrs. Pursey was constantly 
 changing servants, for they would not stay with 
 her, poor woman ! Many servants show heroic 
 devotion when a family falls into distress; but 
 there are some who are pitiless, and scorn to serve 
 in a poor or embarrassed household. Of these it 
 had been Mrs. Pursey's misfortune to have expe- 
 rience. One gave her warning because the butcher 
 had called three times for his bill, and the second 
 couldn't stay in a family where there was a con- 
 stant bother with the tax-man. Poor little woman ! 
 her honeymoon had been of short duration. The 
 fair prospect that seemed to lie before her when the 
 bridal party came out of church, had soon changed. 
 The flowers became poisonous weeds, the brioht 
 feathers of her imagination's wings grew ebon 
 black, and leaden clouds came over the blue 
 heavens, and a heavy weight lay upon her heart. 
 When her father called and saw her left alone 
 in her deep distress, he said, — 
 
 "And this, my dear child, comes by debt — wilful 
 and extravagant debt — against which I and your 
 
224 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 dear mother have struggled all our life, denying 
 ourselves a hundred things, but keeping that which 
 is more precious than all, freedom among our 
 fellow-creatures." 
 
 Mrs. Pursey had received the strictest injunctions 
 from her husband to be careful — extremely care- 
 ful — that there was nobody lurking close by when 
 Ann opened the door. Her fears prompted obedi 
 ence, and the servant was duly cautioned. Some 
 days elapsed, however, ere the nervous housemaid 
 espied any suspicious-looking person in the neigh- 
 bourhood. One morning she perceived a very 
 suspicious-looking old man in close conversation 
 with the pot-boy and other local celebrities. She 
 told her mistress there was something very " for- 
 bidding like" about the old man. He looked 
 a nasty old fellow, with a wicked leer in his eye. 
 Mrs. Pursey recognised him through the blinds as 
 the man who had brought Macfum's present of 
 wine. This discovery disarmed suspicion ; so that 
 when, on the following day, the maid saw the two 
 men approaching with a truck loaded with hampers 
 
"A MAN IN possession:' 22 o 
 
 of wine she felt convinced that her fears were 
 groundless — simple maid that she was ! 
 
 " Well, Mary," said old Solomon ; " this is all 
 right, ain't it ? This is Mr. Pursey's ? More wine, 
 you see. We want a cool place for it." 
 
 While Mr. Solomon was making these observa- 
 tions he pushed forward into the passage of the 
 honse, very kindly assisted by a man whom he 
 described as " a mate of his." 
 
 " Is the missus at hom.e, Mary ?" Mr. Solomon 
 asked, putting on his most engaging manner. 
 " There, that'll do," he said to his mate, when 
 they were fairly in the house ; " open the hamper, 
 Dick." 
 
 Mr. Dick obeyed, and in the hamper there 
 were ranged a compact series of bricks. Mary 
 shrieked, and called Mr. Solomon a viper and a 
 monster. 
 
 " Here's the wine he ordered of Mr. Moss." 
 And, without further ceremony, the old trickster, 
 aided by his friend, invaded Mr. Pursey's home ; 
 and, in less than ten minutes afterwards, old Solomon 
 
 P 
 
CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 was ensconced in Mrs. Pursey's little parlour as 
 THE MAN IN POSSESSION. 
 
 Mrs. Pursey was from home when this blight 
 fell upon her household ; and old Solomon, to 
 beguile the hours till her return, sought to in- 
 gratiate himself with the girl whom he had duped. 
 But Ann was too frightened to listen to the " soft 
 nothings" of this toothless Romeo. So Solomon 
 lit his pipe. 
 
 " Well, my dear, what's the use of taking the 
 matter to heart, eh ? There are plenty of places 
 in the world. If that's all, I'll give you a 
 character," said old Solomon, " by way of begin- 
 ning. Yes, you shall have a beauty, that'll make 
 your fortun', provided you make a fellow com- 
 fortable here ; d'ye see ?" 
 
 " You r answered the girl, scornfully ; " I 
 should think a character would be much too pre- 
 cious a thing for you to give way. You look as 
 though you were sadly in want of one yourself. 
 I should be jDrecious sorry to give you one. What 
 will missus say when she sees you V 
 
A MAN IN possession:' 227 
 
 I 
 
 " My character, my chicken," retorted the old 
 man, with repulsive playfulness. " Oh, no ; it 
 doesn't want a character for my profession. It 
 would be in the way rather. I do excellent well 
 without one, and manage to make both ends meet 
 very nicely/' 
 
 " Then you must be just suited for your busi- 
 ness, you ugly old wretch,'' said the girl, pertly, 
 adding, in a deeply sorrowful tone, " what will 
 missus say ? Poor, dear missus ! and in her con- 
 dition too." 
 
 " Why, she'll be deuced pleased to see me, o' 
 course," continued the old sinner, chuckhng and 
 puffing his pipe. " Everybody's glad to see me. 
 I say, my little Venus — my rosy little angel — 
 cann't you give us summut to eat, eh ? Just a tit- 
 bit. You haven't such a thing as the back and 
 wings of a cold fowl in the larder, have you? 
 That would suit my complaint to a turn — ^grilled. 
 Come, make matters pleasant, and lay the cloth in 
 the kitchen at once." 
 
 " No ; and if I had, you shouldn't have it." 
 
 p2 
 
228 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " Bless me, what a pity it is I ain't a p'liceman, 
 or a grenadier. If I was one or t'other, I might 
 have had the run of the kitchen before this time. 
 Ah ! you are a cruel vixen, you are. Where 1 
 was last, they treated me like a gentleman — as 
 much ale as I chose to drink." 
 
 At this moment a double knock sounded through 
 the house ; and Ann, to her consternation, recog- 
 nised it as that of her mistress. She wrung her 
 hands, and stuffed the corner of her apron in her 
 mouth, and bit it convulsively. 
 
 " Is that your missus ?" asked old Solomon, with 
 stolid calmness, tapping the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 " Yes ; oh dear, dear me, won't she be in a way ! 
 She'll faint clean off, I know she will ; and she's 
 in a very delicate state of health." 
 
 '' Well, fetch down the smelling-bottle, and let 
 her in. She can faint in the front parlour; it 
 wont disturb me. I'm used to them little sur- 
 prises. I can bear 'em without flinchin' now." 
 
 " You're an unfeelin' old wretch," said Ann, as 
 she went, trembling from head to foot, to let her 
 mistress in. 
 
"A MAN IN possession:' 229 
 
 "^ Why do you keep me waiting in this way, 
 Aim?" said Mrs. Pursey. 
 
 " Please^ mum," the girl commenced, trembling, 
 " there's the man in the house who l)rought 
 master's wine last time. Pie says he's come on a 
 very different errand now, and wont go — not for 
 some time. He's in the back parlour, mum. It 
 wasn't my fault, mum. They came, they came 
 (bursting into tears) with a hamper !" 
 
 " Ugh ! you good-for-nothing creature !" said 
 Mrs. Pursey, addressing the wretched maid. "This 
 comes of your carelessness : a pretty business youvp. 
 made of it. Where's the man ? I give you warn- 
 ing, Ann. This day month, mind." 
 
 " Please, mum " 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me. Go down to your work. 
 Where is this man? I'll soon talk to him." 
 
 " In the back parlour, mum." 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Pursey went into her back 
 parlour, where she discovered old Solomon at fall 
 length upon the sofa, reading her husband's pet 
 edition of Byron. He rose, and made an awkward 
 bow. 
 
230 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 " Well, sir,'^ said Mrs. Pursey, advancing to the 
 centre of the room, and assuming the most im- 
 posing attitude ; " what is your business htre ?" 
 
 " Oh, 3^ou're the missus of this place, are you?" 
 said the old man, slowly, drawing a blue paper from 
 his pocket. " Well, now I look again, so you are — 
 I thought I'd seen your face afore ; you know, 
 wlien I brought some wine from Moss. I've come 
 on a different errand now, ain't I ? It's very pain- 
 ful to my feelings ; but I'll keep as quiet as pos- 
 sible, and I daresay we shall get oa very well 
 together." 
 
 " No impertinence, sir; I ask you your business." 
 " At the suit of Mr. Moss, madam — one of Mr. 
 Macfum's affairs. Do you understand ?" — handing 
 the paper. 
 
 " That will do. Your place is the kitchen, sir." 
 " I beg your pardon, mum ; this is my place, and 
 here I shall stay." Solomon knew there were only 
 women in the house. 
 
 So saying, the veteran resumed his recumbent 
 position ou the sofa, and went on reading. Against 
 
"A 3IAN IN FOSo^^SIO^^r 231 
 
 such determined conduct as this there was no 
 appeal, and Mrs. Pursey left the man in undis- 
 turbed possession of her usual sitting-room. As 
 all ;Mrs. Pursey's little necessaries, which no house- 
 wives are without, and which are known as " their 
 thmgs," were in the room which old Solomon had 
 appropriated to himself, she had occasion to enter 
 the apartment very often ; and each time she was 
 compelled to intrude upon the usurped privacy of 
 Mr. Solomon, he had some taunt, some wounding 
 remark ready upon his tongue. One time he told 
 her that he admired her arm-chair ; that he thought 
 her choice of china admirable — -so admirable, in 
 fact, that he had not made up his mind whether 
 he should purchase it or not. Another time he 
 volunteered his opinion of her husband's portrait, 
 which hung above the mantelpiece, assuring her 
 that it was wonderfully flattered. 
 
 " Why, to begin, mum, if my memory doesn't 
 deceive me, your husband has a decided pug nose, 
 hasn't he ?" Mrs. Pursey answered by slamming 
 the door in the man's face. 
 
232 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 If, of all the shades of character which the large 
 family of man presents to the observer, that of the 
 old, hackneyed, brazen men in the employ of the 
 sheriffs be not the most pitiable and broken down — 
 where are the most abject excrescences of our civili- 
 zation to be fomid ? Have you watched those 
 vicious specimens of your kind skulking about the 
 lanes and alleys round about Chancery Lane ? 
 Have you seen them, old halt men with some sixty 
 years upon their heads, shuffling about the byways 
 of the Law Courts and the sheriff's offices? True, 
 the law must be vindicated — the creditor must 
 have his due ; but how is it, if law be the vindica- 
 tion of justice, that its humbler instruments are 
 either picked from among a dissolute body, or are 
 debased by the exercise of their calling ? Old 
 Solomon was, perhaps, the most hideous specimen 
 of an old man — who, in the natural course of 
 things, would probably be churchyard clay with- 
 in four seasons — it is possible to conceive. His 
 strength was spent ; and v/ith haggard, leathern fea- 
 tures and toothless gums, he was giving the short 
 
"A MAN IN possession:' 233 
 
 span that remained between him and a mystery to 
 which his thoughts never turned, to that soulless 
 trade in the shackles of which he had spent his man- 
 hood and hastened his decay. Man was never more 
 enamoured of his art than was old Solomon of his 
 vocation, as the reader has already gathered. He 
 loved to trace the stages of the bill, from the cash- 
 ing to the " selling up." He recounted his exploits 
 with the gusto and the pride of a man who had per- 
 formed extraordinary marvels for the good of his 
 race. Not that he was impressed with the majesty 
 of the law ; on the contrary, he was delighted with 
 its intricacies, and the shelter it afforded to rogues 
 h arned in its byways. The outside world were the 
 game, and he and his were the sportsmen. Under 
 the healthful guidance of such a practitioner as 
 Mr. Moss, it must be at once understood that it 
 was no difficult matter to become a sharp sheriff's 
 man. One day helping to draw a victim into the 
 net, and on the morrow sent by the sheriff to take 
 care of the victim's property — such was the active 
 life of old Solomon. 
 
234 CENT PER CENT, 
 
 Mrs. Pursey lost no time in communicatiDg to 
 her husband the fact that an entrance had been 
 effected in their house, and that the impudence of 
 old Solomon was unbearable. 
 
 And, where was Macfum ? Was he weeping 
 over the misfortunes he had brought upon a modest 
 and happy household ? Or, was he the soul of a 
 lively game at pool ? 
 
BOULOGNE. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BOULOGNE. 
 
 " Home of the stranger who has done something wrong." 
 
 Albert Smith. 
 
 Mr. Henry Pursey found a few congenial spirits 
 at Boulogne. He was soon in the midst of shy 
 captains and divers men of mysterious antecedents. 
 In the summer Boulogne is a very lively place, 
 with its crowded pier, its bright group of fishermen 
 and fisherwomen on the port, and the amusing 
 and ever- shifting picture there is of English and 
 French, confused and intermingled. A perfect 
 entente- eordiale reigns there at any rate. Even 
 the Cockneys and the roughs, who are occasionally 
 thrown six hundred strong into the little town 
 by the excursions from London — with their bad 
 manners and their clinging love for bad brandy, 
 
236 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 provoke no remark from the indigenous popula- 
 tion. Boulogne is the nearest accessible bit of 
 France. It is a town that lives and thrives mainly 
 on the English ; its Paris visitors, down to the 
 last few years, have been of very little service to 
 it. The Boulonnais talks English enough in his 
 own way to make himself understood ; and he 
 comes out with the early spring to bait for his 
 little shoal of Anglais that are to make him 
 comfortable for the next winter, and help him 
 forward with the little fortune with which he 
 hopes to buy, some of these days, a little house 
 and grounds on the Calais, St. Omer, or Paris 
 road. Even the fishwomen patter English enough 
 to drive a bargain in shrimps, or mackerel, or fresh 
 herrings. There are plenty of French hotels, but 
 they don't look quite like French hotels ; for half 
 the people speak English in them, and there is a 
 great parade of English beers and spirits ; and the 
 cuisine is an infelicitous mixture of those of 
 France and England. I confess that I do not ike 
 the entente- cordiale carried into the stew-pans. A 
 
BOULOGNE. 237 
 
 sirloin of beef, with batter pudding and mounds 
 of vegetables, are not grateful to the palate after 
 the fish, and the entrees^ and the birds. Then, 
 again, the Itovs d'ceiivre seldom appears. The 
 entremets are heavy and rough, and suggest the 
 boarding-school. The genius of Boulogne pastry- 
 cooks is mainly devoted to the production of round 
 tarts, defended by ramparts of crust that are by 
 no means flaky I know the boys in the Upper 
 Town schools like these same tarts amazingly, 
 and that it is upon high festivals they are put 
 upon the school dining-tables. I only protest that 
 they are not seductive to people who have come 
 "to forty year," nay, to thirty year. Far be it 
 from me to say that a good dinner, that would not 
 disgrace Philippe's or Voisin's, is not to be had 
 within the jurisdiction of the sub-prefect of 
 Boulogne. I only assert that what is understood 
 to be fair cookery in Paris is not very plentiful on 
 the banks of the Liane. I^one of the Anglo- 
 French element, indeed, is very charming ; but 
 there is an air of enjoyment — a sunlight — about 
 
238 CENT FEB CEXT. 
 
 tlie place, and something in its dear little streets 
 (where the same jewellery and porcelain and 
 knick-knacks may be seen season after season) 
 that give hosts of English people a real affection 
 for the place. They grumble at the dinners, they 
 growl at the unsavoury emanations from the port 
 at low water; but back they travel next season, 
 and go to the same hotel, and grumble again at 
 the same dinners, and growl again at the same 
 unsavoury odour of the port. I believe there 
 are people who have spent twenty consecutive 
 summers in Boulogne. The lounge, in truth, is a 
 various and amusing one. There is the cruel sport, 
 to begin with, of seeing a few hundred people cast 
 ashore opposite the Custom-house, day after day, 
 in various stages of sea-sickness. 
 
 Mr. Packham is certain of his great family 
 parties of last year at his big domestic Louvre 
 Hotel. The pretentious Imperial Hotel opens its 
 doors to its flaunting visitors, and all along the 
 Rue de I'Ecu the boarding-houses receive back 
 their families of last year, pale after another 
 
BOULOGNE. 239 
 
 London season. Back return the troops of British 
 children. The sale of wooden spades becomes 
 brisk. Moated castles arise once more upon the 
 broad sands. The donkeys don their white cloths 
 in the Tintilleries ; and Mr. Buckle, of the Swiss 
 Cottage, in his bottle-green suit, again recounts to 
 passing travellers who try his stout, all he has 
 gleaned in the winter to the disadvantage of Mussoo. 
 
 The town was not at its gayest — it was by no 
 means the height of the season — when Mr. Henry 
 Pursey landed from the London steamer. 
 
 At Boulogne, Pursey found time hang very 
 heavily. There was, it is true, no lack of change 
 in the " home of the stranger who has done some- 
 thing wrong f and in the suburbs there were 
 quiet, calm retreats, cradled in woody valleys such 
 as you may find at every turn in Kent. Peaceful, 
 densely wooded nooks, and gurgling snow-cool 
 streams give to the Valley du Denacre the appear- 
 ance of an English dell. This valley is the delight 
 of Boulogne excuriiionists, and the terror of Bou- 
 logne donkeys. 
 
240 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 Here Pursey was safe — lie was free ; but lie had 
 left cares enough behiDd him to make him pause 
 w^hen he was tempted to amuse himself. How 
 could he enjoy himself? He had deserved all; 
 this he admitted. He was not the caged bird 
 let free and airing his plumage with a mighty 
 pleasure. 
 
 The donkey expeditions from the Tintilleries 
 had no charms for him. The landing of sea-sick 
 passengers from London and Folkestone brought 
 him no pleasure. The etahlissement gave him no 
 relaxation, and the beauties who paced the pier 
 never moved his heart. He remained true as 
 steel to the wife of his bosom : albeit pretty 
 feet winked at him, gay feathers nodded under 
 his nose, and eyes that made those of the dove 
 look forbidding, were turned full upon him. His 
 thoughts were given always to the perfect phre- 
 nological head and the man in possession. Mrs. 
 Pursey, on her part, became sentimental, and, in a 
 letter to a dear frieiid, beautifully said : "As they 
 were about to separate they felt fully the extent 
 
BOULOGNE. 241 
 
 of their dependence upon each other for their 
 mutual happiness. If separation from a beloved 
 object have no other beneficial effect," she con- 
 tinued, "it has at least that of measuring de- 
 cisively the intensity of one's devotion. 
 
 " If I could persuade myself, my dear, that the 
 long recital would prove a delectable composition 
 to you I might indulge in a right sentimental 
 flowery description of our emotions; but you 
 would not understand them." 
 
 Pursey turned his serious face towards England 
 every hour ; not England the mighty mistress of 
 nations to him then, " but England that holds the 
 wedded mistress of my heart/' wrote he. Mrs. 
 Pursey was delighted with the letter. " This is 
 as he used to be," she said. " But when will he 
 return ; when will this odious man leave the 
 house ; and when — that is the most important of 
 all — will Henry's eyes be opened to the villany 
 of Mr. Macfum ?" 
 
 Ten days after Pursey's arrival at Boulogne, the 
 gay debtor-protecting town received Macfum into 
 
 Q 
 
242 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 its hospitable bosom. He was a bird after Bou- 
 logne's own heart. The advent of his friend was 
 wholly unexpected by Pursey, and was not, there- 
 fore, the less welcome, for it filled his breast with 
 hope. 
 
 *' You have come to set me free, I hope," said 
 Pursey. 
 
 " Alas ! no, my dear fellow. I am on my 
 way to Paris in search of Lord Condiment or Sir 
 
 George ; they are both there. Was ever 
 
 anything half so unfortunate ? Everybody's away 
 — at least everybody worth anything, or who could 
 be useful." 
 
 " I understood you to say that Lord Condiment 
 was on a shooting excursion in Scotland. Scot- 
 land and Paris are wide apart." 
 
 " So he was ; but he embarked in Lord Carton's 
 yacht at Glasgow, and endured a tedious and even 
 dangerous voyage to Antwerp, whence he pro- 
 ceeded to Paris. I only heard this when I was 
 half way to the Highlands. It's a confounded 
 nuisance, isn't it ? Lucky, however, I heard the 
 news half way." 
 
BOULOGNE, 243 
 
 " I can assure you, Macfum, that this delay will 
 compromise me fearfully. I shall probably lose 
 my appointment. I've promised to be back on 
 Monday at the latest." 
 
 " By heavens ! you don't say ! My dear Pursey, 
 I cannot express to you how I have cursed my- 
 self for having brought you into this trouble. I 
 am struck to the heart. Did ever man suffer 
 such a series of mishaps as I have had lately? 
 It's enough to make a man do something des- 
 perate. My brain will give way under it ; I feel 
 it will. We must make the best of matters, how- 
 ever, I suppose." 
 
 " Didn't you get the other bill cashed ?" 
 
 " No. Hanged if there's any faith left in all the 
 bill-discounters in London ; Rothschild couldn't 
 get a bit of stiff cashed now. Have you heard 
 from your wife ? She must be in a terrible state 
 of suspense, poor creature !" 
 
 " I hear every day. She is almost out of her 
 mind." 
 
 "It must be a source of great consolation to 
 
 Q2 
 
244 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 you, old fellow, to bear so often. She is too 
 sensible to break down. Of course she feels your 
 absence ; but, I mean, does she write in pretty 
 good spirits ?" 
 
 "Yes ; she has still faith in me, though I 
 wonder how she can have ; and she hopes on from 
 day to day." 
 
 At this moment a letter was put into Pursey's 
 hand : it was from his wife, and bore to him the 
 news of old Solomon's continued residence in 
 his house, and the fellow's discourteous conduct 
 to herself. Macfum watched the change that 
 passed over Pursey's features as the latter read 
 the letter, and was prepared for his friend's anger. 
 The preparation was not in vain, inasmuch as 
 Pursey burst into a violent passion, and called 
 Macfum the accursed cause of his utter ruin. 
 " Yes, you have brought a happy home, Macfum, 
 to destruction. This is the pleasant result of my 
 willingness to oblige you, sir. I see it all now. 
 All I have will be swept from me." 
 
 "I can understand your anger, Pursey, and 
 
BOULOGNE. 245 
 
 will not therefore hold you answerable for any- 
 disrespectful language you may have addressed 
 to me in the heat of your passion. I am fully 
 alive to the misery I have brought upon you ; 
 and am deeply, profoundly grieved that all my 
 efforts to ward off this calamity have failed as 
 yet. But let me call to your recollection the fact 
 that it is not playing the part of a generous man 
 to taunt an innocent friend (for T am innocent in 
 intention) with the wilful ruin of your prospects. 
 I repeat again, emphatically, what your generosity 
 should not allow me to repeat ; namely, that no 
 efifort of mine shall be wanting to restore to you, 
 in a few weeks, any loss you may sustain now on 
 my behalf. Letters to the " Poste restante" will 
 reach me in Paris. Fare you well ; I will not 
 trust myself to remain with you." 
 
 And, without waiting for a reply, Macfum dis- 
 appeared precipitately, leaving Pursey to send a 
 curse after, at his pleasure. 
 
 Pursey resolved to return to England at all 
 hazards, and throw himself into the arms of 
 
246 CENT FEE CENT. 
 
 Mr. Caddy son. At worst, he could but begin 
 the world again. His furniture would realize 
 something ; and he might return to his old fur- 
 nished lodgings, a more wary, if not a wiser, man. 
 He could scarcely believe, even now, that he had 
 been fascinated by an ingenious scoundrel, and 
 had, as the saying goes, been " done." He was 
 still inclined to look upon the author of his ruin 
 as an unfortunate gentleman whom he was bound 
 to pity, and whose name he should exonerate from 
 all blame in the matter. In this state of doubt 
 he returned home. His mind was made up for 
 the worst. Nothing now should beat him back. 
 He would face the worst, and let the law do its 
 utmost. But he had not calculated what was the 
 worst the law could do with a debtor. He had 
 calculated without Mr. Moss — he had reckoned 
 without costs. 
 
 His wife was glad enough to see him once more 
 at home, a happiness in which old Solomon by 
 no means participated, particularly when he was 
 mformed by ' Pursey that, if he did not behave 
 
BOULOGNE. 247 
 
 himself while he was there, he would, in spite of 
 his years, give him the soundest thrashing he had 
 ever received. This hint was not thrown away 
 upon the old man. It amused Solomon, how- 
 ever, to watch the confident air of security with 
 which Pursey trod his parlour carpet. It was a 
 delectable study to that man with a heart of lead 
 to note the unconcern with which the unsophisti- 
 cated Pursey went on his daily business. He was 
 treading upon gunpowder, and seemed to think 
 it was velvet. A few days and the storm broke. 
 Pursey's household gods were scattered, and he was 
 arrested. Said he in all simplicity to the officer : — 
 
 "You have my goods, which are worth more 
 than the amount. What do you want ? What 
 claim, then, have you upon me T 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir," replied the most 
 gaudily-dressed of the vindicators of the law, 
 "they didn't fetch a farthin' more than eighty- 
 four ; and there's Mr. Solomon's costs, to say 
 nothing of a few detainers. There's a balance, 
 look." 
 
248 CENT FEB CENT, 
 
 Pursey glanced. " Yillany I The poor debtor 
 indeed. The law punishes him by doubling his 
 debt. A man may manage to pay his debts, but 
 his back breaks under the costs." 
 
 " Daresay, sir ; but the law ain't answerable for 
 the weakness of gents. Because a gentleman 
 doesn't know nothing about furniture and the law, 
 his fellows ain't compelled to share his ignorance. 
 You see it's all right," added the fellow, producing 
 the document that gave him the power to consign 
 Pursey to the tender mercies of the governor of 
 "Whitecross Street. " If you can arrange it, better 
 come to Cursitor Street ; you'll be snug and com- 
 fortable there." 
 
 Hereupon Mrs. Pursey burst into an uncontrol- 
 lable flood of tears, and clung to her husband, 
 vowing that they should not be separated. The 
 officer smiled, and assured the lady people were 
 quite at home in Cursitor Street. 
 
 " No more you needn't. You can get snug 
 quarters close by ; can't they, Jim ?" 
 
 " 0' course they can, provided they've got the 
 
BOULOGNE. 249 
 
 necessary needful," answered the second func- 
 tionary. 
 
 " Now, mum, it's all nonsense crying in that 
 manner. We'll take care of him, depend upon 
 it. He shan't be run over or lost in a crowd." 
 
 This bit of humour delighted the officer's man. 
 
 " Silence, fellow ! Confine yourself to the 
 strict fulfilment of your duty." Pursey's fist was 
 clenched. 
 
 " Well, then, that is to see you safely lodged ; 
 you know where. So come along." 
 
 Pursey drew his wife aside, whispered some 
 words of comfort to her, and then unfolded him- 
 self from the arms that bound him to her, and 
 followed his captors. 
 
 Having undergone the usual formalities, Pursey 
 was at length lodged in Whitecross Street, with 
 no very definite idea as to the probable length of 
 his compulsory sojourn there. He had declined 
 the expensive hospitality of Cursitor Street. 
 Having had a long interview with Mr. Caddyson, 
 who assured him that he should soon be set free, 
 
250 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 and written a letter to the office taking a further 
 ''holiday," he began to look about him with 
 some composure. His fellow-prisoners were not a 
 very congenial set, and he avoided them as much 
 as possible ; but some of them insisted upon being 
 friendly and talkative. One gentleman in par- 
 ticular took upon himself the duty of bidding the 
 new prisoner welcome. This shabby person was 
 called "captain," of course. He had a care- 
 fully prepared military appearance. Well, the 
 captain was perhaps a scamp, a rogue, a beastly 
 debauchee ; but he was the life and soul of 
 his fellow-prisoners, and deserved some consi- 
 deration on this score. He had the most won- 
 derful flow of humour; talked with indifference 
 of his release ; and, when once he was set free, ex- 
 claimed in a parting speech to his fellow-prisoners, 
 " Never mind ; no fond regrets, no moist eyes. I 
 shall soon be among you again." This jovial 
 captain, perceiving with his practised eye that 
 Pursey was a new-comer, and was viewing the 
 inside of a prison for the first time, accosted him. 
 " Glad to meet you under such extremely favour- 
 
WELCOME TO WHITECROSS STREET. 
 
 " Glad to meet you under such extremely favourable auspices'' said the 
 Captain. " Do you intend to make a long stay ? " 
 " / hope not,'' replied the hero of this story. 
 
BOULOGNE. 251 
 
 able auspices. Do you intend to make a long 
 stay r 
 
 «I hope not." 
 
 " Complimentary^ truly. Gentlemen," continued 
 the captain, raising his voice so that all persons at 
 hand might hear him ; " gentlemen, here is a 
 visitor who declares that he has come on a flying 
 visit, and that he hojpes soon to tear himself from 
 us. He appears to be a jolly fellow, however, and 
 we must humour him as a novice ; for I feel con- 
 vinced that he will remain to be worthy of the 
 honour which the sheriff has this day conferred 
 upon him — an honour which must be doubly 
 gratifying to him, since I feel assured it was un- 
 solicited." 
 
 This speech was received by the company with 
 considerable applause; and Pursey, half- bewildered, 
 yet somewhat annoyed at the liberty that had 
 been taken with him, bowed his acknowledgment. 
 The place was so utterly strange to him, that he 
 was fearful of committing some blunder that 
 would make him ridiculous in the eyes of his 
 fellow- prisoners ; and taking the captain's conduct 
 
252 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 to be tlie custom of the prison, he resolved to 
 make the best of it. 
 
 The limits of this history do not permit me to 
 give the reader a narrative of Pursey's sojourn in 
 Whitecross Street. Sufficient is it for the moral 
 which the reader is expected to gather from this 
 history, that Pursey remained in confinement 
 about four months ; and that during that time he 
 had leisure to ponder over the means by which he 
 had brought himself there, and to declare that 
 he hoped irretrievable beggary might come to 
 him and his if he ever signed his name again 
 upon a bill stamp. While in prison he also learnt 
 that Macfum had cashed the last bill, and that 
 when he met him at Boulogne he was making his 
 way to Paris with the money he had obtained on 
 it. The discovery that the celebrated port was 
 from the cellars of Mr. Moss, completely dispelled 
 any doubt that yet remained in Pursey's mind ; 
 and when he next corresponded with Mr. Caddy- 
 son he had no hesitation in writing Mr. Julius 
 Macfum down a scoundrel. 
 
A FRESH START. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 A FRESH START. 
 
 " Women hate a debt, as men a gift." 
 
 Beowning. 
 
 Mr. Caddyson devoted his best energies to the 
 advantageous settlement of Henry Pursey's affairs. 
 It was found necessary that the young man should 
 take the " benefit of the Act ;'' for he was mixed 
 up with men who would not listen to reason, nor 
 to justice; and who looked only to an opportu- 
 nity of screwing out of their creditor the utmost 
 farthing due to them. It was a great concession 
 on the part of the chiefs of Henry Pursey's office 
 that he was allowed a certain time to get rid of 
 his liabilities, and present himself a new and a 
 
254 CENT PER CENT. 
 
 free man, for the discharge of his official duties. 
 He was relieved of the companionship of his two 
 pretentious and reckless fellow - clerks, Messrs. 
 Conway and Whittlesea ; for one had run away 
 to join Mr. Macfum in Paris, while the other had 
 thrown up his post, and had taken to the turf. The 
 Commissioner compelled Henry Pursey to put 
 aside fifty pounds a year for the benefit of his 
 creditors. His liabilities were diminished some- 
 what by this fortunate fact; that some of the 
 money which his rapacious bill-discounting cre- 
 ditors demanded they could not legally claim. A 
 very woeful and heavy time Henry Pursey had of 
 it when he came to the daily struggle, the absence 
 of many comforts, and the shabby, skeleton of a 
 home to which he had doomed his wife. Nearly 
 all her little household gods had been sacrificed, 
 and the small salvage from the wreck could only 
 serve to remind her continually of the many femi- 
 nine valuables she had lost, some of which she had 
 known, she said, " as long as she could remember 
 anything." It was Henry's daily torture to see 
 
A FRESH START. 255 
 
 her so meek, and satisfied, and forgiving ; for he 
 said to himself, " This is the good creature I have 
 wronged, and brought out of a comfortable home 
 into this squalid lodging. I have destroyed the 
 woman's world — the home. I have blotted out 
 the little landmarks of her Hfe, and she sits before 
 me, with the child upon her knees, and looks up 
 into my face as kindly as ever, and has not a word 
 to say against me !" 
 
 It was well that Henry Pursey should feel the 
 smart, and cower under his disgrace. He had 
 been a selfish young reprobate. He had indulged 
 his paltry, snobbish vanity, and forgotten his wife 
 and his own child, in order to air himself in the 
 society of those whom he deemed to be his betters. 
 Many people who may read this little history 
 written upon a bill-stamp, and who will cry shame 
 on Pursey, commit his fault in a milder shape 
 many days in the course of their lives. They 
 scheme and contrive, in order to scramble for a 
 brief time into society they are pleased to consider 
 better than their own. Mrs. Common Council- 
 
256 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 man scrambles after Mrs. Alderman. Sir Knight, 
 who was dubbed by good-natured King William 
 when he presented a certain city petition, and who 
 has to do with tallow (but in a large way, mind 
 you) is courted and fawned upon like a Scott, a 
 Grenville, or a Temple. The best plate is brought 
 out when he is asked to dinner by Petteyfolk and 
 Mrs. Petteyfolk. They screw and squeeze, and 
 possibly get a little behind the world, to eutertain 
 Sir Knight, of "the Moulds." What is called 
 better society is not one whit less snobbish. Bear 
 in mind the scrambles there are among military 
 ladies, how Mrs. Captain Hep strives to outdo 
 Mrs. Captain Bee, and the colonel's wife is envied 
 when she dines with the general. 
 
 Just consider that long flight of shallow, not 
 overclean steps which lead from the bottom of 
 society to the summit of it. You can just catch the 
 crown jewels on the top step, shimmering in the 
 light. What battles are fighting every day upon 
 every one of these shallow stones ! How petty are 
 the quarrels, how mean is the order of battle, how 
 
A FRESR STABT, 257 
 
 contemptible is the skirmishing ; but how fierce 
 is the contest, when it is hand to hand ! The king 
 of Dahomey has his Amazons, and they are 
 doughty women ; but I back the female army 
 British society has, to defend it at every point. 
 It is the superb Amazons who guard every step 
 of the mighty flight before us. They give no 
 quarter, while they make a step forward ; and they 
 manoeuvre so skilfully that they are able to give a 
 kick behind at the same time. They are not parti- 
 cular as to the arms they use. At the bottom of the 
 steps, which are strewn with rags and straw, and 
 broken jugs and pipes, Amazon Biddy smites her 
 sister with a pewter pot, and makes good her 
 footing on the first step ; while in the rosy air at 
 the far-off height by the imperial jewels, an 
 Amazon all gold and lace, defeats the fragile 
 Amazon in her rear, with a tap from her fan 
 What fighting is there on the step between her 
 grace with her fan, and Biddy with her pewter 
 pot ! Here the silver teapot is brandished de- 
 fiantly against Britannia metal Six quarterings 
 
 B 
 
258 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 give no quarter to two. And how the gold flies 
 about ! One stout, vulgar, purple old gentleman 
 goes steadily up past the Britannia metal, and the 
 real silver, and the burnished ; treading upon toes, 
 and receiving low curtseys in acknowledgment of 
 his awkwardness. Up he stalks, and as an arrow 
 past the red hand, then rests his ponderous elbow 
 on a helmet for a moment, and so on ; upward, 
 till he touches the golden strawberry leaves, and 
 finds that they are his, and he desires them. In 
 his rear, from much below the half-way point of 
 the flight, the steps are covered with shining 
 money ; and all the hosts of warriors, male and 
 female, have grounded arms, and are scrambling 
 after it. Presently there is a loud cry, and the 
 burly, podgy, vulgarian Scrip is seen rolling in 
 the dust, down the flight which he lately ascended. 
 The people who bowed as he rose kick him as he 
 falls. I mark our foolish young friend Pursey 
 somewhere in the scramble, midway up on the 
 steps. But what a sorry, bandy, thin-armed soldier 
 he is I He is bonneted, and he disappears, and 
 
A FBESn START. 259 
 
 turns up somewhere lower than he was when he 
 started. Nobody notices him whimpering in a 
 corner, with his craven elbow up to protect him 
 against any sly blow that may be dealt upon him. 
 Bless me ! The fight is too hot for that. A pass- 
 ing kick on the shins he may get, for the Reddishs, 
 his relatives, are pushing beyond him. At any 
 rate, Us dairies Reddish will flaunt their feathers 
 in little Mrs. Pursey's face, and mayhap pinch the 
 baby as they pass upward ; for see how mean are 
 the devices which appear at every step ! Here by 
 the base of the flight, the footpad grips his stick, 
 and is preparing to break the skull of the man 
 beyond him. Farther up the burglar lies under 
 respectability's four-poster, and has made up his 
 mind to have the sleeper's gold and silver. Be- 
 yond, high up the steps, there are moving in the 
 best society the forger, the defaulter, it may be, 
 the undiscovered poisoner ! 
 
 " My word !" cries a poor devil, shivering in the 
 dirt and mud of the lower steps ; " but those same 
 criminals have made their way far up the flight 
 
 Il2 
 
260 CENT PEE CENT. 
 
 What if I try ? All the people up there know 
 about them is, that they've plenty of money ; and 
 so they are welcome. And see how all of my 
 degree are whimpering, and shouting, and doing 
 all manner of evil, and dirty, and shabby things, 
 to storm their way upward with golden shot. 
 From time to time one is thrown over and pitched 
 violently in his splendid clothes to the scum at 
 the bottom of the flight. But there are those 
 who hold their ground, and even they who are 
 ultimately thrown over, have had their days of 
 greatness when they looked down superbly on us 
 and the mass below us." 
 
 Philosophers, and preachers, and poets stand 
 upon every step of the flight, calling aloud that all 
 is vanity, that the rich man may not enter the 
 kingdom of heaven, that this craving for gold is 
 the main root of evil among us ; that the learned 
 pate is ducked, alas, to the golden fool ; that this 
 gold it is which makes " the wappened widow wed 
 again ;" and the panting combatants wipe the foam 
 from their lips, and the sweat from their limbs, 
 
A FRESH STA-RT. 261 
 
 and listen. But the words die, and their last echo 
 has ploughed the air, and with a wild shout they 
 are at the strife again. He decks himself in the 
 robes of Croesus, who should wear serge and 
 sandals. He sits a blood-mare, who should be 
 content with the top of the omnibus. All up the 
 flight, successful at every point, is the great 
 Veneer regiment. It has a most gallant, costly, 
 outward seeming ; it includes populous companies 
 of Amazons, as well as rank and file of male 
 soldiers. But a scratch lays bare the baser 
 parts of each. The silken standard that ashefls 
 in the sun, has a base cotton back. The sword 
 that glitters in the rays is no Toledo blade. It 
 is polished rottenness. The golden goblets they 
 lift to their lips ; let a kitten scratch them and 
 they shall show the lead under the gold. Nay, 
 they touch not the lips, but only the paint upon 
 them. The Veneers beat out their silver and 
 coat it with the yellow metal, that it may all pass 
 for so much solid gold ; and then with a seeming 
 shower of sovereigns, they sweejD up step after 
 
CENT FEB CENT, 
 
 step victoriously. Amid these great and imposing 
 arrays of the mighty regiment of Yeneer, beside 
 the great masters of Seeming, and the great pro- 
 fessors of Humbug, and the doughty general- 
 issimos in the service of Untruth, where could 
 shabby, defeated Henry Pursey, our hero, hope to 
 be ? We shall not now see him, I fear, fa,r up the 
 steps. But theie is a broad open space somewnere 
 half-way up, that has quiet, shady avenues and 
 green fields, and is dotted with fair and modest 
 dwellings ; where rosy, happy, bright-eyed people 
 dwell ; and where there is ample space, I am told 
 on the best authority, for hundreds who will seek 
 it by simple, and honest, and open means — the 
 broad and cheerful lands of Content. 
 
 The people who dwell here are a bright and 
 healthy race, and stroll now and then to the great 
 flight of steps which I have been surveying with 
 the reader ; and look with positive pity at the 
 scramble, and wonder what the fevered wretches 
 can mean who are chafing, and plunging, and fight- 
 ing even to make one inch more towards the splen- 
 dour that is up far beyond. 
 
A FRESB START. 263 
 
 I say, will Henry Pursey, working manfully 
 and keeping his head erect, and loving wife and 
 children, make this cheery table- land of Content 
 at last? Let us at any rate hope so. In the 
 intensity of his present suffering, in the trials he 
 is now imposing on his wife and little one, and 
 which it is his painful duty to witness hourly, is 
 his best, his brightest hope. It is the education 
 that will strengthen him ; and, for friends, albeit 
 they are humble, they are coming about him with 
 a will 
 
 Some time elapsed before Mr. Caddyson was 
 able to show Henry Pursey's mother that it was 
 her bounden duty to forgive the errors of her 
 child. She said that he had not only brought dis- 
 grace upon his own name, but, which was much 
 worse, upon that of her family. The Purseys 
 were used to this sort of thing, but she begged to 
 say that the Reddishes were not. 
 
 "My dear madam, it is most unfortunate, I 
 grant, in all respects j but, you see, it was inevit- 
 
264 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 able. It was the only way out of the young 
 man's difficulties." 
 
 " The audacious villain that he was to try and 
 touch what he was to receive after I was dead and 
 gone." 
 
 " It was, indeed, very wrong, ma'am," said Cad- 
 dyson. "But it is past— it is settled; everything 
 will be paid by degrees, and if anything should 
 happen to Henry meantime, the assurance I have 
 made him efifect on his life, will more than cover 
 everything. He is punished enough, ma'am. He 
 will have to pay for months of folly by years of 
 hard work, and I may add, hard living. As I 
 have told him, for every pound he has raised he 
 has paid four. This is buying experience at a 
 dear rate." 
 
 "There, now, Mr. Caddyson, it's no use your 
 talking to me about assurances and interest, and 
 all those lawyers' phrases, for I know just as much 
 when you've finished as before you began. Wasn't 
 Henry warned ? Didn't he promise me that he 
 would take an example by his father, who, I am 
 
A FRESH START. 265 
 
 surprised to say, is doing wonders, according to his 
 own account, in America. He went into it all 
 with his eyes open, he did, Mr. Caddyson. People 
 may talk to me till they're blue, and they wont 
 persuade me to the contrary. I'm only a woman, 
 I know ; but all the members of my family, as 
 long as they can remember, were always somehow 
 in the right ; and I know I'm in the right, when I 
 say that Henry's conduct is unpardonable, and 
 that he ought to be well horsewhipped for it/' 
 
 "My dear lady," Mr. Caddyson expostulated, 
 smiling, "you must remember that Mr. Henry 
 Pursey is a man with a wife and family now, and 
 not a boy to be birched." 
 
 Mrs. Abraham Pursey drew herself up with 
 great dignity, and replied — 
 
 " I am perfectly aware of that, Mr. Caddyson, 
 and therefore say the more shame on him. An 
 unnatural boy ! to try to touch his mother's bit of 
 money. And I'm very sorry for your daughter, 
 Mr. Caddyson, that she should have thrown her- 
 self away upon such a young man ; leaving a com- 
 
266 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 fortable bouse like yours where two servants are 
 kept, to be reduced to a two-pair back — , for 
 they're nothing better, Mr. Caddyson, and all be- 
 cause my lord must put on fine clothes, and try to 
 push himself amongst fine people, or people he 
 thought were fine, but turned out to be a set of 
 graceless young rogues. I confess my blood boils 
 again when I think of it." 
 
 "Now, pray look here, Mrs. Pursey," said Mr. 
 Caddyson, nervously, " I quite understand the in- 
 dignation you feel ; but your son and my daughter 
 are very young people we must remember, and we 
 must not judge harshly." 
 
 "I am sure, Mr. Caddyson," Mrs. Pursey in- 
 terrupted, "your daughter must be an angel on 
 earth to have borne it all as she has." 
 
 " I assure you she is nothing of the kind," Mr. 
 Caddyson answered. "She is a good, domestic 
 English girl, like hundreds that, I hope, are to be 
 found still in the country ; and she is quite ready, 
 in fact has made her mind up, to forget the past, and 
 love your son as she did when they were married. 
 She is quite reconciled to all the little discomforts 
 
A FRESR START. 267 
 
 of their altered position, and I should be very 
 much ashamed of her if she were not. I am quite 
 prepared to do my part towards making them as 
 comfortable as I can ; and I think, my dear Mrs. 
 Pursey, that although you still feel very angry, you 
 will do yours. They are both, remember, only 
 children. All your love and hopes are centred in 
 the boy, and ours in the girl. There is little, 
 indeed, we can leave behind us for our part, when 
 it shall please God to call us to our rest. But 
 there will be a little something'" — and here poor 
 Mr. Caddyson's voice trembled — "and — and — in 
 short, they may be very happy and very pros- 
 perous yet, if we will put our arms about them 
 now ; and if you will kiss the penitent boy, and 
 say, ' I forgive you, and God's speed to you, and 
 God's strength to you also, as you turn from all 
 the dirt and disgrace and moral debasement of 
 debt, and step with a contented and grateful heart 
 into the road towards independence.' " 
 
 Mrs. Pursey was overcome by this appeal to her, 
 and answered — 
 
 " Let him come to his mother, and say that for 
 
268 CENT FEB CENT. 
 
 the future he will be a dutiful child and an honest 
 man." 
 
 The kindness of old Mr. Caddyson worked all 
 the magic he had foretold, and more. And it was 
 some years after Mrs. Abraham Pursey had been 
 placed in the very ornate vault of the Reddishes, 
 that an old weather-beaten^ yellow-skinned gentle- 
 man knocked at the door — for he had a knocker 
 of his own again by this time — of Henry Pursey. 
 It was Abraham Pursey, returned to die among 
 his kindred. He had brought back with him 
 much more than enough to last him to his grave. 
 He had come back, he said, with some money for 
 the little bees at home ; and he solemnly adjured 
 Henry to store it with care, and resolutely and 
 solemnly to warn his children by the story of both 
 their lives. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Popular and Interesting Books, 
 
 PUBLISHED OR SOLD 
 
 By JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 
 
 74 & 75 PICCADILLY, LONDON, W. 
 
 \* Note. — In order to insure the correct delivery of the actual Works, 
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 Army Lists of the Roundheads and Cavaliers in the Civil 
 
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 These most curious Lists show on which side the gentlemen of England were to be found 
 during the great conflict between the King and the Parliament. Only a very few copies have 
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 Artemns Ward — His Book. Edited, with Notes and 
 
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 certainly the most mirth-provoking book which has been published for many 
 
 * He is as clever as Thackeray in Jeames's Dialogue and Policeman X'a balladf . . . There 
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 Artemns Ward. The 'Author's Edition;' containing', in 
 
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 with Mr. Ward's Private Opinion oraceming Old Bachelors,' and ' Mr. W.'s Visit 
 to a Graffick ' [Soiree]. 
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 threwd as we have seen in this book by the mirthful Artcmus.'— Fpbus Opinion. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
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 *** a book of peculiar interest at the present moment, as it pives a marvellously faithful pano- 
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 to be made. 
 
 Mary Lamb's Poems and Letters ; with Inedited 
 
 Remains of Charles Lamb. Now first collected, ^\T.th numerous 
 illustrations of Lamb's favou.rite haunts in London and the suburbs. 
 Facsimiles on old paper of the tiile-pages of the rare first editions of 
 Lamh and. Coleridge's ^vor'ks. Facsimile of a page of the original 
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 essayist noiu first correctly reproduced, and many other relics of the 
 delightful essayist. Crown 8vo, price los. 6d. 
 
 FAIE KOSAMO>'D"S COTTAGE. 
 
 The Collector. Choice Essays on Books, Authors, 
 
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 by Dr. Doran. A Choice Book, on toned paper, half morocco, 6s. 
 
 *** A charming volume of delightful Essays, with exquisitely-engraved Viprnette of an Old Book 
 Collector busily engaged at his favourite pursuit of book-hunting. The work is a companion 
 Tolume to Disraeli's " Curiosities of Literature,'' and to the more recently published " Book-Hunter," 
 by Mr. John Hill Burton. 
 
 " A comely and suitably named volume. His humour and reading are considerable, and whilst he 
 displays thelatter with the frankness of a collector not ashamed of his function, he exercises the 
 former with unflagging spirit and excellent effect." — AthencBum. 
 
 2 John Camden Rotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 John Eiuskin and George Cruikshank. — " German 
 
 Popular Stories." Collected by the Brothers Grimm, from Oral 
 Tradition, and Translated by Edgar Taylor. Edited by John Ruskin. 
 WITH TWENTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER THE INIMJ. 
 TABLE DESIGNS OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Both series com- 
 plete in I vol. Very choicely printed, in small 4to, price 63. 6d. 
 
 *** These are the designs which Mr. Ruskin has prai-ed so highly, placing them far above all 
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 a new Edition is now issued, under the care and superintendence of the printers who issued the 
 oiiginals forty years ago. The Illustrations are considered amongst the most extraordinary 
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 or with proofs of plates on India paper, price 31s. 6d. 
 
 " ' Grimm's German Stories' was so well adapted to the genius of Cruikshank, that it has 
 suggested one of the very best of all his etchings. The two elves, especially the nearer one, who is 
 putting on his breeches, are diawn with a point at once so precise and vivacious, so f uU of keen fun 
 and inimitably happy invention, that I have not found their equals in comic etching any^vhere< It is 
 said that these elves are regarded with peculiar affection by the great master who created them ; it 
 is ouly natural, for he has a right to be proud of them."— Hammerton's Etching and Etchers. 
 
 Hood's "Whims and Oddities," 1826. A New and 
 
 very Cheap Edition of this well-known Book, with the Author's 40 
 inimitably funny Woodcuts. Square izmo, price is. stiff cover j or 
 cloth neat, is. 6d. 
 
 %* Christopher North once remarked of this book that 'it contained 
 more wit, more fun and humour, than any other work of its size." 
 
 Hawthorne's Note Book. A new and most interesting 
 
 volume of Autobiographical Eeminiscences, Ideas, and Suggestions 
 by this dehghtful author, selected from his private Note Books. 
 Square i2mo, stiff cover, is. ; or cloth neat, is. 6d. 
 gS~ The poet Longfellow thus anticipates this charming book : — " Live 
 
 ever, sweet, sweet book. It comes from the hand of a man of genius. 
 
 Everything about it has the freshness of morning and May." 
 
 John Camden Hottm, 74 omd 75, Piccadilly, W. 3 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 THE NEW " FUNIAITA SERIES" OF 
 
 CHOICE ILLUSTRATED WORKS OF 
 HUMOUR. 
 
 Elegantly printed on toned paper, full gilt ^ gilt edges, for the 
 Drawing Room, price 6s. each : — 
 
 1. Carols of Cockayne. By Henry S. Leigh. Vers de 
 
 Societe, and charming Verses descriptive of London life. With 
 numerous exquisite little designs by Alfred Concanen and the late 
 John Leech. Small 4to, elegant, uniform with " Puniana," 6s. 
 
 2. The "Bab Ballads." New Illustrated Book of 
 
 HlIMOUR ; OR, A GrEAT DeAL OF EhYME WITH VERY LITTLE REASON. 
 
 By W. S. Gilbert. With a most laughable illustration on 
 
 NEARLY EVERY PAGE, DRAWN BY THE AUTHOR. On toned paper, gilt 
 
 edges, price 6s. 
 
 " An awfully Jolly Book for Parties." 
 
 3. Funiana. Best Book of Riddles and Puns ever 
 
 formed. Thoughts Wise— and Otherwise. With nearly loo exquisitely 
 fanciful drawings. Contains nearly 3,000 of the best Riddles and 10,000 
 most outrageous Puns, and is one of the most popular books ever 
 issued. New edition, uniform with the " Bab Ballads," price 6s. 
 WJiy did Du Chaillu get so angry when he was chaffed about the 
 Gorilla f Why ? we ask. 
 
 Wliy is a chrysalis like a hot roll ? You will doubtless remark, " Be- 
 cause it's the grub that makes the butter fy .'" But see " Puniana." 
 
 Why is a wide-awake hat so called f Because it never had a rmp, and 
 never wants one. 
 
 The Saturday Review says of this most amusing work — "Enormous burlesque — unapproachable 
 and pre-eminent. We venture to think that this verj- queer volume will be a favourite. It deserves 
 to be so : and we should suggest that, to a dull person desirous to get credit with the youug lioliday 
 people, it would be good policy to invest in the book, and dole it out by instalments." 
 
 John Camden Rotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 5 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Special List for 1869. 
 
 *^* Note. — In, order to ensiLre the correct delivery of the actual WorTcs^ 
 or Particular Editions, specified in this List, the name of the Pub- 
 lisher should he distinctly given. Stamps or a Post Office Order may 
 he remitted direct to the Publisher, who will forward per return. 
 
 A TBTTLY MAGNIFICENT WORK.— " LIVES OP 
 
 THE SAINTS." Enriched with Fifty-one exquisite F\ill-page 
 Miniatures, in gold and colours. Every page of the Text within 
 Engraved Borders of Beautiful Design. In thick 4to, sumptuously 
 printed, £7 7s., bound in silk velvet, enriched with gold, preserved in 
 a case. 
 
 es° THIS VERY IMPORTANT WORK, commenced three years since, 
 has at length been completed, and fully justifies the high expectations 
 formed of it during its progress through the press. Taking the text of 
 the Rev. Alban Butler as his guide, the Editor has, wherever practicable, 
 carefully verified the references of that eminent divine. The delicacy and 
 finish of the beautiful miniatures have never before been approached in 
 any similar work in this country. They exhibit a beauty and exquisite 
 softness of colour which have hitherto only been realised by the most 
 expensive miniature paintings. The tvork must be seei^ to be appreciated, 
 as it is like no other of the kind. The preparation has been so costly 
 and slow that the book is never likely to decrease in value. 
 
 A VEKY SPLENDID VOLUME.— SAINT URSULA, 
 
 PRINCESS OF BRITAIN, AND HER COMPANIONS. With 
 Twenty-five Full-page 4to Illuminated Miniatures from the Pictures 
 of Cologne, and exquisitely designed Woodcut Borders. In crown 
 4to, beautifully bound in silk and gold, £3 15s. 
 *^* The finest Book-Paintings of the kind ever published. The artist 
 obtained the Gold Prize at the Paris Exposition. 
 e^ THE BOOK MUST BE SEEN TO BE APPRECIATED. The 
 illustrations are exact reproductions of the exquisite paintings of the 
 Van Eyck school, and in finish and beauty are far above any similar 
 hook-paintings issued in this country. As the preparation of the work 
 has been so costly and slow it is never likely to decrease in value. 
 
 Exquisite Miniatures and Illuminations. — "Golden 
 
 Verses from the New Testament," with 50 Illuminations and Minia- 
 tures from celebrated Missals and Books of Hours of 14th and 
 15th centuries in gold and colours. The text very beautifully printed 
 in letters of gold on fine ivory paper. 4to, in a very handsome cloth 
 case with silk ribbons, 30s.; or bound in a volume, morocco, gUt 
 edges, £2 5s. 
 
 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. i 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Pictorial description of Abyssinia. 
 Dedicated to HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN by Eoyal Command. 
 Views in Central Abyssinia. With Portraits of 
 
 Natives of the Galla Tribes, taken in Pen and Ink under circumstances 
 of peculiar difficulty, by T. Zender, With letterpress description by 
 Sophie F. Veitch, daughter of the Chaplain to the Bishop of 
 Jerusalem. 4to, price 12s. 
 
 *** A book of peculiar interest at the present moment, as it gives a marvellously faithful pano- 
 rama of the country, about which so much has recently been said. The soiled worn volume from 
 \yhich these facsimiles were taken is quite a curiosity, having been constantly secreted about the 
 person of the draughtsman, fearing the observation of the native chiefs, who do not allow diawings 
 to be made. 
 
 Mary Lamb's Poems and Letters; with Inedited 
 
 Remains of Charles Lamb. Now first collected, with numerous 
 illustrations of Lamb's favourite haunts in London and the suburbs. 
 Facsimiles on old paper of the title-pages of the rare first editions of 
 Lamb oMd Coleridge's M'orlcs. Facsimile of a page of the original 
 MS. "Essay on Roast Pig," Hancock's admirable Portrait of the 
 essayist now first correctly reproduced, and mamy other relics of the 
 deUghtful essayist. Crown 8vo, price los. 6d. 
 
 AIK EOSAilOND'S C01TAG2. 
 
 The Collector. Choice Essays on Books, Authors, 
 
 Newspapers, Pictures, Inns, Doctors, Holidays, &c. Introduction 
 by Dr. Doean. A Choice Book, on toned paper, half morocco, 6s. 
 
 *** A charming volume of delightful Essays, with exquisitely-engraved Vignette of an Old Book 
 Collector busily engaged at his favourite pursuit of book-hunting. The work is a companion 
 volume to Disraeli's " Curioaitiesof Literature," and to the more recently published "Book-Hunter," 
 by Mr. John HiU Burton. 
 
 "A comely and suitably named volume. His humour and reading are considerable, and whilst he 
 difjilays the latter -vvith the frankness of a collector not ashamed of his function, he exercises tho 
 former with unflagging spirit and exceUent eSecu"—Athencntm, 
 
 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 John RusMn and George Cruikshank. — " German 
 
 Popular Stories." Collected by the Brothers Grimm, from Oral 
 Tradition, and Translated by Edgar Taylor. Edited by John Ruskin. 
 WITH TWENTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER THE INIMI- 
 TABLE DESIGNS OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Both series com- 
 plete in i vol. Very choicely printed, in small 4to, price 6s. 6d. 
 
 *** These are the designs which Mr. Ruskin has prai?ed so highly, placing them far above all 
 Crnikshank's other works of a similar character. So rare had the original book (published in 1823- 
 1826) become, that £5 to £6 per copy was an ordinary price. By the consent of Mr. Taylor's family 
 a new Edition is now issued, under the care and superintendence of the prmters who issued the 
 originals forty years ago. The Illustrations are consideied amongst the most extraordinary 
 examples of successful reproduction ever published. A very few copies on LARGE PAPER, 21s. ; 
 or with proofs of plates on INDIA PAPER, price 31s. 6d. ,„.,,, ,^ ^ ., . 
 
 " ' Grimm's Gennan Stories' was so well adapted to the genins of Cruikshank, that it has 
 suggested one of the very best of all his etchings. The two elves, especially the nearer one, who la 
 Iputting on his breeches, are drawn with a point at once so precise and vivacious, so full of keen fun 
 jind inimitably happy invention, that I have not found their equals in comic etching anywhere. It is 
 said that these elves are regarded with peculiar affection by the great master who created them ; it 
 is only nattual, for he has a right to be proud of them."— Hammerlon's Etching and Etchers. 
 
 Hood's "Whims and Oddities," 1826. A ITew and 
 
 very Cheap Edition of this well-known Book, with the Author's 40 
 inimitably funny Woodcuts. Square izmo, price is. stiff cover; 
 or cloth neat, is. 6d. 
 
 *** Christopher North once remarked of this book that "it contained 
 more wit, more fun and humour, than any other work of its size. 
 
 Hawthorne's Note Book. A new and most interesting 
 
 volume of Autobiographical Eeminiscences, Ideas, and Suggestions 
 by this delightful author, selected from his private Note Books. 
 Square i2mo, stiff cover, is.; or cloth neat, is 61, 
 16©- The poet Longfellow thus anticipates this charming book :— " Live 
 
 ever, sweet, sweet book. It comes from the hand of a man of genius. 
 
 Everything about it has the freshness of morning and May." 
 
 JoTm Camden Eotten, 74 cmd 75, Piccadilly, W. S 
 
VEEY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Price to Subscribers, 27s., afterwards to be raised to 363. 
 
 Isife and Newly-Discovered Writings of Daniel Defoe. 
 
 Comprising Several Hundred Important Essays, Pamphlets, and other 
 Writings, now first brought to li2:ht, after many years' diligent search. 
 By William Lee, Esq. With Facsimiles and "illustrations. 
 
 *^* For many years it has been well known in literary circles that 
 the gentleman to whom the public is indebted for this valuable addition 
 to the knowledge of Defoe's Life and Works has been an indefatigable 
 collector of everything relating to the subject, and that such collection 
 had reference to a more full and correct Memoir than had yet been given 
 to the world. In 3 vols., uniform with " Macaulay's History of England." 
 Vol. I.— A NEW MEMOIR OP DEFOE. 
 Vols. II. and III.— HITHERTO UNKNOWN WRITINGS. 
 This will he a most valuable contribution to English History and 
 
 English Literature. 
 
 TZie Best Handbook of Heraldry. Profusely Illus- 
 trated with Plates and Woodcuts. By John E. Cussans. In crown 
 8vo, pp. 360, in emblazoned gold cover, with copious Index, 7s. 6d. 
 
 %* Tins volume, leautifuUy printed on toned paper, contains not only 
 the ordinary matter to be found in the best books on the science of 
 Armory, hut several other subjects hitherto unnoticed. Amongst these 
 may he mentioned:—!. Directions tor Tracing Pedigrees. 2. DEa 
 CIPHERING Ancient MSS., illustrated by Alphabets and Facsimiles. 
 3. The AppoiNTiiENT oi- Liveries. 4. Continental and American 
 Heraldry, &c. 
 
 L':^icliael Faraday. Philosopher and Christian. By 
 
 The Rev. Samuel Martin, of Westminster. Toned paper, Portrait, 6d. 
 
 •** An admirable resume— designed for popular reading— of this great man's life. 
 
 John Camden Eotten, 74 and ']$, Piccadilly, W, 
 
VURY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 THE NEW ''PUNIANA SERIES" OF 
 
 CHOICE ILLUSTRATED WORKS OF 
 HUMOUR. 
 
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 Drawing Boom, price 6s. each ;— 
 
 1* Carols of Cockayne. By Henry S. Leigh. Vers de 
 
 Societe, and charming Verses descriptive of London Lite. "With numer- 
 ous exquisite little designs by Alpeed Concanen and the late John 
 Lbech. Small 4to, elegant, uniform with " Puniana," 6s. 
 
 2. The "Bab Ballads" New Illustrated Book of Hu- 
 
 MOUK; OE, A GkEAT DeAL OF HhYME WITH VERY XITTLE EeASON. 
 
 By W. S. Gilbert. With a most xaughable illustration oit 
 
 NEARLY EVERT PAGE, DRAWN BY THE AUTHOR. Ou toned paper, gilt 
 
 edges, price 6s. 
 
 "An awfully Jolly Book for Parties." 
 3. Puniana. Best Book of Riddles and Puns ever 
 
 iformed. Thoughts Wise and Otherwise. With nearly loo exquisitely 
 fanciful drawings. Contains nearly 3,000 of the best Eiddles and 10,000 
 most outrageous Puns, and is one of the most popular books ever issued. 
 New edition, uniform with the " Bab Ballads," price 6s. 
 
 Whi/ did Du Chaillu get so angry when he was chaffed about the 
 Gorilla ? Why 7 we ask. 
 
 Why is a chrysalis like a hot roll 7 Y'ou will doubtless remark, "Be- 
 cause it's the grub that makes the butterfly .'" But see " Bttniana." 
 
 Why is a wide-awake hat so called 7 Because it never had a nap, and 
 never wants one. 
 
 The Saturday Reviem says of this most amusins: work—" Enormous burlesque— unapproachable 
 and pre-eminent. We venture to think that this very queer volume will be a favourite. It deserves 
 to be so : and we should su^sest that, to a dull person desirous to get credit with the young holiday 
 people, it would be good policy to invest in the book, aud dole it out by instalments." 
 
 John Camden Sotten, 74 and 75, Ficcadilly, W, 5 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Popular Shilling Books of Humour. 
 
 Artemus Ward : His Book. 
 Artemus Ward Aiio^a the 
 
 Mormons. 
 BiGLow Papers. 
 Orpheus C. Kerr Papers. 
 
 Josh Billings. 
 
 Hood's Yere Vereker. 
 Holmes' Wit and Humoue. 
 Never Caught. 
 Chips from a Eough Log. 
 Mr. Sprouts: His Opinions. 
 
 Yankee Drolleries. Edited "by George Augustus Sala, 
 
 Containing Artemus Ward ; Biglow Papers ; Orpheus C. Kerr ; Major 
 Jack Downing ; and Nasby Papers. One of tlie cheapest books ever 
 published. New Edition, on toned paper, cloth extra, 700 pages, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Orpheus C. Kerr Papers. The Original American 
 
 Edition, Three Series, complete. 3 vols. 8vo, cloth; sells at £i 2s. 6d., 
 now specially offered at 15s. 
 
 *** a most mirth-provoking work. It was first introduced into this country by the English 
 ©fBcers who were quartered during the late war on the Canadian frontier. They found it one of 
 the drollest pieces of composition they had ever met with, and so brought copies over for th« 
 delectation of their friends. 
 
 A Keepsake for Smokers. — " The Smoker's Text- 
 Book." By J. Hamer, F.R.S.L. This day, exquisitely printed from 
 ** silver-f aced" type, cloth, very neat, gilt edges, 2s. 6d., post free. 
 
 THE TRUE CONSOLER. 
 
 TTE who doth not imoke hath either 
 •'-'• known no great griefi. or refiuoth 
 himself the softest consolation, next to 
 that which conies from heaven "^Vhat, 
 ■ofter than woman?" whispers the yoiing 
 
 i.ler You 
 
 aiier, woman teazes ■■ 
 
 -well as consoles. Woman makes half th. 
 •orrows which she hoH.ts the pririlege to 
 aoothe Woman consoles us. it is true, 
 while we are younsr and handsome; when 
 we are old and ugly, woman inuhs and 
 ■colds us On the whole, then, woman ia 
 this scale, the weed in that, Jupiter, hang 
 out thy balance, and weigh them both ; 
 and if thou give the preference to woman; 
 
 "A pipe is a great comforter, a pleasant soother. The man who smokes thinks like a sage, and 
 acts like a Samaritan."— J3u/tcer. 
 
 " A tiny volume, dedicated to the votaries of the weed ; beautifully printed on toned paper in, we 
 believe, the smallest tj-pe ever made (cast especially for show at the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park), 
 but very clear notwithstanding its minuteness. . . . The pages sing in various styles the praises 
 of tobacco. Amongst the writers laid under contribution are Bulwer, Kingsley, Charles Lamb, 
 Tliackeray, Isaac Browne, Cowper, and Byron." — The Field. 
 
 laughing Philosopher (The), consisting of several 
 
 Thousand of the best Jokes, Witticisms, Puns, Epigrams, Humorous 
 Stories, and Witty Compositions in the EngUsh Language ; intended 
 as "Fun for the Million." Square izmo, nearly 800 pages, frontis- 
 piece, half morocco neat, 5s. 6d. 
 
 6 Johm, Camden Rotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W, 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 AARON PENLEY'S Sketching in Water Colours, for 
 
 2IS. By Aaeon Penlet, Author of " The English School in Water- 
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 LiTHOGEAPHS, produced with the utmost care to resemble original "Watee- 
 CoLOUE Deawings. Small folio, the text tastefully printed, in hand- 
 some binding, gilt edges, suitable for the drawing-room table, price 21s. 
 
 •,• It has long been felt that the magnificent work of the great English master of painting in 
 water-colours, published at ,£4 4s., was too dear for general circulation. The above embodies all 
 the instructions of the distinguished author, with twenty-one beautiful specimens of water-colour 
 painting. 
 
 A Clever and Brilliant Book {Companion to the ^^ Bon GauUter 
 Uallads") PUCK ON PEGASUS. By H. Cholmondeley Pen- 
 
 NELL. 
 
 ? 
 
 ^^ This most amusing worTc has already 
 passed through eive editions, receiving 
 everywhere the highest praise as '• a clever 
 and brilliant book." TO NO OTSEB 
 WORK OF THE PRESENT BAY 
 MATE SO 3IANY DISTINGUISHED ARTISTS CONTRIBUTED 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. To the designs of GEORGE CRUIKSRANK, 
 JOHN LEECH, JULIAN PORTCH, " PHIZ," and other artists. 
 8/R NOEL PATEN, MILLAIS, JOHN TENNIEL, RICHARD 
 DOYLE, and M. ELLEN EDWARDS have now contributed several 
 exquisite pictures, thus making the new edition — which is twice the sizb 
 OF the old one, and contains irresistibly funny pieces — THE BEST 
 BOOK FOR THE DRAWING-ROOM TABLE NOW PUBLISHED. 
 
 In 4io, printed within an india-paper tone, and elegantly bound, gilt, 
 gilt edges, price los. 6d. only. 
 
 John Camden Sotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W, 7 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 TJNIFOBM WITH MR. BUSKIN'S EDITION OF " GERMAN 
 POPULAR STORIES." 
 
 Hew Book of Delightful Tales.—" Family Fairy Tales ;" 
 
 or, Glimpses of Elfland at Heatherston Hall." Edited by Cholmon- 
 DELEY Pennell, Author of "Puck on Pegasus," &c., adorned with 
 beautiful pictures of " My Lord Lion," " King Uggermugger," and 
 other great folks. Handsomely printed on toned paper, in cloth, gi-een 
 and gold, price 33. 6d. plain, 4s. 6d. coloured, 
 
 *:(,* This charming volume has been univei .-Uy praised by the critical press. 
 
 Popular Romances of the West of England ; or, the 
 
 DroUs of Old Cornwall. Collected and edited by Egbert Hunt, F.R.S. 
 This day, in 2 vols. 8vo, very handsomely printed, price i6s. 
 f^S' Only a few coioies of this very interesting work now remain, and 
 
 COPIES AVILL SOON BECOME SCARCE. 
 
 *^* Many of the stories are remarl^able for their wild poetic beauty; others surprise us by their 
 quaintness ; whilst otliers, again, show forth a tragic force which can only be associated with those 
 rude apTL's which existed long before the period of authentic history. Mr. George Cruilisliank has 
 supplied two wonderful pictures to the work. One is a portrait of Giant Bolster, a personage 
 twelve miles high. 
 
 Gustave Dore's Favourite Pencil Sketches. — His- 
 torical Cartoons; or. Rough Pencillings of the World's History from 
 the First to the Nineteenth Century. By Gustave Doke. With 
 admirable letterpress descriptions by Thomas Wright, F.S. A. Oblong 
 4to, handsome table book, 7s. 6d. 
 
 — Pc0 
 
 *** A new book of daring and inimitable designs, which will .excite considerable attention, and 
 doubtless command a wide circulation. 
 
 Captain Castagnette. His Surprising, almost Incre- 
 dible Adventures. 4to, with Gustave Dore's Illustrations, is. gd. 
 (sells at 5s.) 
 Direct application must be made to Mr. Hottznfor this hook. 
 
 Cent, per Cent. A Story written upon a Bill Stamp. 
 
 By Blanchard Jerrold. With numerous coloured illustrations in 
 the style of the late Mr. Leech's charming designs. {Immediately. 
 
 * * a Story of " The Vampires of London," as they were pithily termed in a recent notoriom 
 case, and one of undoubted interest. 
 
 8 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
rHHY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Seymour's Sketches. A Companion Volume to " Leech's 
 
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 200 highly amusing Illustrations. Oblong 4to, a handsome volume, half 
 morocco, price 12s. 
 
 •,* A re-issue of the famous pictorial comicalities which were so popular thirty years &%o. The 
 volume is admirably adapted for a table-book, and the pictures will doubtless ajrain meet with that 
 ronularity which was extended towards them when the artist projected with Mr, Dickens the famous 
 "Pickwick Papers." 
 
 The Famous *' DOCTOR SYNTAX'S " Three Tours. 
 
 One of the most Amusing and Laughable Books ever published. With 
 the whole of Eowlandson's very droll full-page illustrations, in colours, 
 after the original drawings. Comprising the well-known TouES: — 
 
 1, In Search of the Picturesque. 
 
 2, In Search of Consolation. 
 
 3, In Search of a Wife. 
 
 The three series complete and unabridged from the original editions in 
 one handsome volume* with a Life of this industrious Author — the En- 
 glish Le Sage — now first written by John Camde:? Hotten. 
 
 *:j(:* It is not a little surprising that the most voluminous and popula? 
 English writer since the days of Defoe should never before have received 
 the small honour of a biography. This JEdition contains the whole of the 
 original, hitherto sold for £1 lis. 6d,j but which is now published at 
 7s. 6d. only. 
 
 A VERY USEFUL BOOK. In folio, half morocco, cloth sides, 7s. 6d. 
 Literary Scraps, Cuttings from Newspapers, Extracts, 
 
 Miscellanea, &c. A FOLIO SCRAP-BOOK OF 340 COLUMNS, 
 formed for the reception of Cuttings, &c., with guards, 
 
 ^* Authors and literary men have thanked the publisher for this useful 
 hooJc. 
 
 %* A most useful volume, and one of the cheapest ever sold. The book is sure to be appreciated' 
 and to become popular. 
 
 Hone's Scrap Book. A Supplementary Volume to the 
 
 *' Every-Day Book," the " Year Book," and the "Table-Book," From 
 the MSS. of the late William Hone, with upwards of One Hundred 
 and Fifty engravings of curious or eccentric objects. Thick 8vo, uniform 
 with "Year-Book," pp. 800. [In jpreparation. 
 
 John Camden Sotten, 74 and 75, JPiccadillyj W. 9 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Sets of "Punch," 1841—1860. Mr. Hotten has 
 
 purchased from the Messrs. Virtue and Co. their entire remainder 
 of this important set of books, which contains, among its 12,000 Illus- 
 trations and Contributions from the most noted Wits of the time, the 
 "T^'HOLE OP Leech's Sketches, 4 vols. ; Leech's Pencillings, 2 vols.; 
 Tenniel's Cartoons ; Doyle's Mr. Pips hys Diary ; Manners and 
 Customs of the English ; Brown, Jones, and Eobinson ; Punch's 
 Almanacks, i vol. ; Thackeray's Miscellanies, 4 vols. ; The Caudle 
 Lectures ; Story of a Feather ; &c., &c. 39 half-yearly vols, bound in 
 20 vols., cloth gilt, gilt edges, published at £i6 los., to be obtained of 
 Mr. Hotten for £6 los. only. 
 
 The Standard Work on Diamonds and Precious Stones; 
 
 their History, Value, and Properties, with Simple Tests for Ascer- 
 taining their Reality, By Harry Emanuel, F.R.G.S. With nume- 
 rous Illustrations, tinted and plain. New Edition, Prices brought 
 down to Present Time, full gilt, 12s. 6d. 
 
 •* Will be acceptable to many readers."— Timet. 
 
 ••An invaluable work for buyers and sellers."— Spectator. 
 
 See the Times' Review of three columna. 
 
 *^* This new edition is greatlij superior to the previous one. It gives 
 the latest market value for Diamonds and Preciotis Stones of every size. 
 
 The Young Botanist : A Popular Guide to Elementary 
 
 Botany. By T. S. Ralph, of the Linuoean Society. In i vol., with 
 300 Drawings from Nature, 2s. 6d. plain, 4s. 6d. coloured by hand. 
 
 *** An excellent book for the young beginnei*. The objects selected as illustrations are either 
 easy of access as specimens of wild plants, or are common in gardens. 
 
 Gunter's Modern Confectioner. The Best Book on 
 
 Confectionery and Desserts. An Entirely New Edition of this 
 Standard Work on the Preparation of Confectionery and the Ari-ange- 
 ment of Desserts. Adapted for private families or large establish- 
 ments. By William Jeanes, Chief Confectioner at Messrs. Gunter's 
 (Confectioners to Her Majesty), Berkeley-square. With Plates, post 
 8vo, cloth, 63. 6d. 
 
 "All housekeepers should have it"— Daily Telegraph. 
 
 *** This worTi has won for itself the reputation of heing the Standa/rd 
 English Booh on the preparation of all kinds of Confectionery, and on 
 the arrangement of Desserts. 
 
 10 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS, 
 
 MOST AMUSING NEW BOOK. 
 Caricature History of tlie Georges (House of Hanover). 
 
 Very entertaining book of 640 pages, with. 400 Pictures, Caricatures, 
 Squibs, Broadsides, Window Pictures. By T. Weight, F.S,A. 7a. 6d. 
 
 Reviewed in 
 
 *#* Companion Volume to "History of Signboards; 
 almost every English journal with highest approbation. 
 
 "A set of caricatures such as we have in Mr. Wright's volume brings the surface of the agre 
 before u3 with a vividness that no prose writer, even of the highest power, could emulate. 
 Macaulay's most brilliant sentence is weak by the side of the little woodcut from Gilliay wich give* 
 us Burke and Fox." — SaUirday Review. 
 
 " A more amusing work of its kind never issued from the presB."— Art Journal 
 
 " This is one of the most agreeable and interesting books of the season."— Pu6/ic Opinioru 
 
 " It seems superfluous to say that this is an entertaining book. It is indeed one of the most 
 entertaining books we have read for a long time. It is histoiy teaching by caricature. There is 
 bardly an event of note, hardly a personage of mark, hardly a social wliimsey worth a moment's 
 potiee. which is not satirised and illustrated in these pages. We have here the caricatiu-ists from 
 Hogarth to Gillray, and from Gillray to Cruikshank." — Morniii'^ Star. 
 
 "It is emphatically one of the liveliest of books, as also one of the most interesting. It has the 
 twofold merit of being at once amusing and edifying. The 600 odd pages which make up the 
 goodly volume are doubly enhanced by some 400 illustrations, of which a dozen are full-page 
 engravings." — Morning Post. 
 
 "Mr. Thomas Wright is so ripe a scholar, and is so rich in historical reminiscences, that ha 
 cannot fail to make an interesting book on any subject he undertakes to illustrate. He has achieved 
 a success on the present occasion,"— P/^ej*. 
 
 Notice.— Large-paper Edition. 4to, only 100 printed, 
 
 on extra fine paper, wide margins for the lovers of choice books, with 
 extra Portraits, half -morocco (a capital book to iUustrate), 30s. 
 
 Houiance of the Hod : an Anecdotal History of the 
 
 Birch in Ancient and Modern Times. With some quaint illustrations. 
 Cro^vn 8vo, handsomely printed. [In preparatioiu 
 
 JoTvn Camden Rotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
 IX 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 •A NIGHT IN A WORK- 
 
 NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 rLUUoilj. 
 
 Preparing, in crowTi 8vo, handsomely printed, 
 The "Wilds of London : v/ith a Pull Account of the 
 
 Natives. By the Amateur " Lambeth Casual," Mr. James Green- 
 wood, of the Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 «' Mr James Greenwood, the brother of the editor of the Pall Mall Gazette, who wrote such a 
 SBhited account of his workhouse experionces for tliis journal, has just commence.i a series of 
 'descrii.tive sketches, from tlie personal observation'* and experiences of the writer, of remarkable 
 scenes, people, and plaaes in London.' '—i-ondon ileview. 
 
 The Thames from Oxford to London. Forty Exquisite 
 
 Photographs. Royal 4to. Both series complete in a neat French 
 morocco folio, with flaps, gilt side, £3 los. 
 
 LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS.— First Series. 
 
 Pangbourne (3 views). 
 Boat House, Park 
 
 Place. 
 Henley-on-Thames. 
 Medmenham Abbey. 
 New Lock, Hurley. 
 Marlow. 
 
 Great Marlow Lock. 
 Boulter's Lock, Maido 
 
 enhead. 
 Maidenhead Railway 
 
 Bridge. 
 Water Oakley, near 
 
 Windsor. 
 
 Oxford. 
 
 Barges at Oxford. 
 
 IfleyMill. 
 
 Bridge at Nuneliam. 
 
 Day's Lock. 
 
 Shellingford. 
 
 WalHngford Bridge. 
 
 Near Goring. 
 
 Second Series. 
 
 Windsor (4 views). Moulsoy. 
 
 Eton College. Hampton Court (a 
 Halliford. views). 
 
 Garrick's Villa, Twickenham (3 views). 
 
 Hampton. Eel-pie Island. 
 
 *^:* Tliis is an admirable collection of Views of the most charmingly picturesque spots 
 B ver Thames, in the very highest style of Landscape I'hotography. 
 
 Duke of Buccleuch's. 
 Richmond (2 views). 
 Kew (2 views). 
 Westminster Palace 
 and Bridge. 
 
 the 
 
 A Tour in Crete, during the Insurrections of the 
 
 Cretans, 1867. By Ed. Postlethwaite, Author of " The Fortunes of 
 a Colonist," " Pilgrimage over the Prairies," " Diary of George Dern," 
 " Poems by Tristam," &c. This day, cloth neat, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Letters from Greece, written in 1867. By Ed. 
 
 Postlethwaite, Author of "A Tour in Crete," &c. With Threa 
 Photographs, cloth, 4s. 6d. 
 
 FOLK-LORE, LEGENDS, PROVERBS OF ICELAND. 
 
 Now ready, Cheap Edition, with Map and Tinted Illustrations, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Oxonian in Iceland; v/ith Icelandic Polk-Lore and 
 
 Sagas. By the Rev. Fred Metcalfe, M.A. 
 
 Tom Marchmont 
 
 cloth, 31s. 6d. 
 
 " A story of English life, with a hero who is not depict 
 tules for masculine perfection framed by modern society." 
 
 a Ifovel. Just out, 3 vols. 8vo, 
 
 in accordance with the convestional 
 
 la John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VER Y IMPORT A NT NEW BO OKS, 
 
 The History of Advertising in all Ages and Countries. 
 
 A Companion to the " History of Signboards." With many very 
 amusing Anecdotes and Examples of Successful Advertisers. By 
 Messrs. Larwood and Hotten. \In preparation. 
 
 Signboards : their History. With Anecdotes of Famous 
 
 Taverns and remarkable Characters. By Jacob Larwood and John 
 Camden Hotten. "A book which will delight all." — Spectator, This 
 day, Foui-th Edition, pages 580, price 7s. 6d. only. 
 
 Prom the " rimes." 
 
 "It is not fair on 
 the part of a re- 
 viewer to pick out 
 the plums of an 
 author's book, thus 
 filctiing away his 
 cream, and leaving 
 little but skim-niilk 
 yeii..Liiiing; but, even 
 if we were ever so 
 maliciously iuclined, 
 
 Jf/om the " Times." 
 
 we could not in the 
 present instance 
 pick out all Me-srs, 
 Larwood and Hot- 
 ten's plums, because 
 the good things are 
 so numerous as to 
 defy the most whole- 
 sale depredation." — 
 Review of three 
 colurmu. 
 
 BULL AND JlOUin. 
 (Angel St., St Martin's-le-Grand, circa ISOO.) 
 
 *^A* Nearly 100 most curious illustrations on wood are given, showing 
 the various old signs wliich were formerly hung from taverns and other 
 houses. The frontispiece represents the famous sign of "The Man 
 loaded with Mischief," in the colours of the original painting said to 
 have been executed by Hogarth. 
 
 Hotice.— " La,rge-paper Edition," with Seventy-Two 
 
 extra Illustrations (not given in the small edition), showing Old 
 London in the days when Signboards hung from almost every house. 
 In 4to, half-morocco neat, 30s. 
 
 *** Only a small number printed on extra fine paper with wide margins for the lover of fine books. 
 
 The Parks of London. Their History and Asso- 
 ciations from the Earliest Times. By Jacob Larwood. With Illus- 
 trations BY the Author. [In the Press. 
 
 AN EXTRAOEDINARY BOOK. 
 Hotten's Edition of " Contes Drolatiques " (Droll 
 
 Tales collected from the Abbeys of Loraine). Par Balzac. With 
 Four Hundred and Twenty-five Marvellous, Extravagant, and Fan- 
 tastic Woodcuts by Gustave Dore. Beautifully printed, thick 8vo, 
 half morocco, Roxburghe, 12s. 6d. 
 
 *#* The most singular designs ever attempted by any artist. This book is a fund of amusement. 
 80 crammed is it with pictures that even the contents are adorned with thirty-three illustrations. 
 
 Direct application must be made to Mr. Hotten for this worlc. 
 
 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly ^ W, 
 
 13 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Common Prayer. Illustrated by Holbein and Albert 
 
 Durer. With Wood Engravings of the Dance of Death, a singularly 
 curious series after Holbein, with Scriptural Quotations and Proverbs 
 in the Margin. 8vo, exquisitely printed on tinted paper, 8s. 6d. ; in 
 dark morocco, Elizabethan style, gilt edges, 163. 6d. 
 Apply DIRECT for this exquisite volume. 
 
 AN APPEOPEIATE BOOK TO ILLUMINATE. 
 
 •#* The attention of those who practise the beautiful art of Illuminating 
 is requested to the following sumptuous volume. 
 
 The Presentation Book of Common Prayer. Illus- 
 trated with Elegant Ornamental Borders in red and black, from 
 "Books of Hours" and Illuminated Missals. By Geoffiiey Tory. 
 One of the most tasteful and beautiful books ever printed. May now 
 be seen at all booksellers, 
 Although the price is only a few shillings (7s. 6d. in plain cloth ; 8s. 6d. 
 
 antique do. ; 143. 6d. morocco extra), this edition is so prized by artists 
 
 that at the South Kensington and other important Art Schools copies 
 
 are kept for the use of students. 
 
 English Church Furniture, Ornaments, and Decora- 
 tions, at the Period of the Eeformation. Edited by Ed. Peacock, P.S. A. 
 MOST INTERESTING BOOK ON ANGLICAN CHURCH ORNA- 
 MENTS. Thick 8vo, with illustrations, 15s. 
 
 "Very curious as showing what articles of church furniture were in those days considered to be 
 idolatrous or unnecessary. The woric, of which only a limited number has been printed, is of the 
 highest interest to those who take part in the present Uitual discussion."— See Religious Journals. 
 
 NEW BOOK BY PROFESSOR RENAN'S ASSOCIATE. 
 ApoUonius of Tyana : the Pagan or False Christ of 
 
 the Third Century. An Essay. By Albert Reville, Pastor of the 
 Walloon Church at Rotterdam. Authorised translation. Price 3s. 6d. 
 
 *** A most curious account of an attempt to revive Paganism in the third century by means of a 
 false Christ. Strange to say, the principal eveuts in the life of Apollonius are ahuost identical with 
 the Gospel narrative. 
 
 Carlyle on the Choice of Books. Address by Thomas 
 
 Carlyle, with Memoir, Anecdotes, Two Portraits, and View of liis 
 House in Chelsea. This day, elegantly printed, pp. 96, cloth 23. 
 
 *** The leader in Daily Telegraph, April 25th, largely quotes from above " Memoir." 
 
 Smiles's (Saml.) Story of the Life of George Stephen- 
 son ; a Companion Volume to " Self-Help." Sells at 6s. A few 
 copies only at 3s. gd. Apply to Mr. Hotten direct for this hook. 
 
 liSalone's (Ed.) Life. By Sir James Prior, with his 
 
 Manuscript Anecdotes, " Maloniana," &c. A handsome library vol., 
 with fine portrait. Sells at 14s. Cloth new, 4s. 3d. 
 
 Apply to Mr. Hotten direct for this booh. 
 
 14 John Camden Hotten, 74 a7id 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS, 
 
 NEW BOOK BY THE "ENGLISH GUSTAYE DORE."— 
 
 COMPANION TO THE "HATCHET THROWERS." 
 
 leegeuds of Savage Life. By James Greenwood, the 
 
 famous Author of " A Night in a Workhouse." With 36 inimitably 
 droll illustrations, drawn and coloured by Ernest Geiset, the 
 "English Gustavo Dord." 4to, coloured, 73. 6d, ; plain, 53. 
 
 *#* Beaders who found amusement in the "Hatchet-Throwers" will not regret any acquaintance 
 they may form with this comical work. The pictures are among the most surprising which have 
 come from this artist's pencil. 
 
 " A Munchausen sort of book. The drawings by M. Griaet are very powerful and eccentric"— 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 School Life at Winchester College; or, the Remi- 
 niscences of a Winchester Junior. By the Author of " The Log of 
 the Water Lily," and " The Water Lily on the Danube." Second 
 edition, revised, coloui-ed plates, 73. 6d. [In jprejparation. 
 
 **♦ This book does for Winchester what " Tom Brown's School Days" did for Rugby. 
 
 I.og of the " Water Lily" (Thames Gig), during Two 
 
 Cruises in the Summers of 1851-52, on the Rhine, Neckar, Main, 
 Moselle, Danube, and other Streams of Germany. By R. B. Mans- 
 field, B.A., of University College, Oxford, and illustrated by Alfred 
 TnoMrsoy, B.A., of Trinity College, Cambridge. [In preparation, 
 
 *^* This was the earliest boat excursion of the kind ever made on the Continental rivers. Very 
 recently the subject has been revived again in the exploits of Mr. MacGregor in his " Tob llojf 
 Canoe." The volume will be found most interesting to those who propose taking a similar trip, 
 whether on the Continent or elsewhere. 
 
 The Hatchet-Throwers. With Thirty-six Illustra- 
 tions, coloured after the Inimitably Grotesque Drawings of Ernest 
 Griset. The English Gustave Dore. 4to, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d.; plates, 
 uncoloured, 5s. 
 
 *** Comprises the astonishiner adventures of Three Ancient Mariners the Brothers Brass ot 
 Bristol, Mr. Corker, and Mungo Midge. 
 
 Melchior Gorles. By Henry Aitchenbie. & vols. 
 
 8vo, £1 IIS. 6d. 
 
 *** The New Novel, illustrative of " Mesmeric Influence,' or whatever else we may choose to 
 lerm that strange power which some persons exercise over others. 
 
 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 15 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 AN INTERESTING VOLUME TO ANTIQUARIES. 
 Army Lists of the Roundheacls and Cavaliers in the 
 
 Civil War, 1642. 4to, talf morocco, handsomely printed, price 7s. 6d. 
 
 *** These most curious Lists show on which side the gentlemen of England were to be found 
 during the great conflict between the King and the Parliament. Only a very few copies have beca 
 most carefully reprinted on paper that will gladden the heart of the lover of choice books. 
 
 Wagna Charta. An Exact Tacsimile of the Original 
 
 Document preserved in the British Museum, very carefully dra^vn, 
 and printed on fine plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by a feet wide, with 
 the Arms and Seals of the Barons elaborately emblazoned in gold and 
 colours. A.D. 1215. Price 5s. ; by post, on roller, 5s. 4d. Handsomely 
 framed and glazed, in carved oak of an antique pattern, 22s. 6d. 
 
 *** Copied by express permission, and the only correct drawing of the Great Charter ever taken. 
 It is uniform with the " KoU of BatUe Abbey." A full translation, with Kotes, has just been 
 prepared, price 6d. 
 
 UNIFORM WITH "MAGNA CHARTA." 
 Holl of Battle Ahhey ; or, a List of the Principal 
 
 Warriors who came over from Normandy with William the Conqueror 
 and settled in this country, A.D. 1066-7, from Authentic Documents, 
 very carefully drawn, with the Arms of the principal Barons elaborately 
 emblazoned in gold and colours, price 5s. ; by post, on roller, 5s. 4d. 
 Handsomely framed and glazed, in carved oak of an antique pattern, 
 price 22s. 6d. 
 
 Illuminated Charter - Roll of Waterford, Temp. 
 
 Richard II. In i vol. 4to, with 19 large and most curious Plates in 
 facsimile, coloured by hand, including an ancient View of the City of 
 Waterford. Subscribers, 203. ; Non-subscribers, 30s. [Preparing. 
 
 *♦* Of the very limited impression proposed, more than 150 copies have already been subscribed 
 for. An ancient Illuminated Roll, of great interest and beauty, comprising all the early Charters 
 and Grants to the City of Waterford, from the time of Henry II. to Richard II. Full-length PortraitB 
 of each Eug adom the margin, varying from eight to nine inches in length. 
 
 The Oldest Heraldic Roll.—" The Roll of Cserlaver- 
 
 lock," with the Arms of the Earls, Barons, and Knights who were 
 present at the Siege of this Castle in Scotland, 26 Edward I., a.d. 
 1300 ; including the Original Anglo-Norman Poem, and an English 
 Translation of the MS. in the British Museum. By Thomas Wright, 
 Esq., M.A., F.S.A. THE ARMS SPLENDIDLY EMBLAZONED IN 
 GOLD AND COLOURS. In 4to, very handsomely printed, extra gold 
 cloth, 18s.; or crimson morocco extra, the sides and back covered in 
 rich fleur-de-lys, gold tooling, 5Ss. 
 
 *** A very handsome volume, and a delightful one to lovers of Heraldry, as it is the earliest 
 blazon or arms known to exist. 
 
 Now pubUshing in monthly parts, price is. 
 
 A New and Complete Parochial History of Cornwall, 
 
 Compiled from the Best Authorities, and Corrected and Improved 
 from Actual Survey; with Illustrations of the Principal Objects of 
 Interest. Volume I. now ready, price i6s. 
 
 16 John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W. 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS. 
 
 MR. SWINBURNE'S NEW BOOK. 
 
 \* "J. wonderful literary performance.'' — ^^ Splendour of 
 style and majestic beauty of diction never surpassed:' — WILLIAM 
 BLAKE: A Critical Essay. With facsimile Paintings, 
 coloured by hand, from the original drawings painted by 
 Blake and his wife. Thick 8vo, pp. 350, i6s. 
 
 witli a sense of 
 
 " An extraordi- 
 na.ry work : vio- 
 lent, extravagant, 
 perverse, calcu- 
 lated to startle, to 
 shock, and to alarm 
 many readers, but 
 abounding in 
 beauty, and cha- 
 racterised by intel- 
 lectual grasp. . . 
 . . His power of 
 word - paintiug is 
 often truly Avon- 
 derf ul— sometimes, 
 it must be ad- 
 mitted, in excess, 
 but always £uU of 
 matter, form, and 
 colour, and instinct 
 
 * 
 
 
 vitality." — Daily 
 Neivs, Feb. 12, 
 1868. 
 
 "It is in every 
 way worthy of Mr. 
 Swinburne's high 
 fame. In no prose 
 work can be found 
 passages of keener 
 ' poetry or more 
 tinished grace, or 
 more impressive 
 gj^:; harmony. Strong, 
 vigorous, and 
 musical, the style 
 sweeps on like 
 a river." — Sunday 
 Times, Jan. 12, 
 1868. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's New Poem. — A Song of Italy. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, toned paper, cloth, price 33. 6d. 
 
 *** The Athenceum remarks of this poem—" Seldom Xas such a chant been heard so full of glow, 
 strength, and colour." 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Poems and Ballads. Third Edition. 
 
 Price 93. ^_ 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Notes on liis Poems, and on the 
 
 Eeviews which have appeared upon them, is now ready, price is. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon. New Edition, 
 
 fcap. 8vo, price 63. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Chastelard. A Tragedy. New 
 
 Edition. Price 7s. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Queen Mother and Rosamond. 
 
 New Edition, fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Bothwell. 
 
 A NEW POEM. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 John Camden Eotten, 74 and 75, Piccadiilyt W. 
 
 ij 
 
VERY IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS, 
 
 Original Edition of Blake^s Works. 
 
 NOTICE. — Mr. Hotten has in preparation a few facsimile copies (exact 
 as to pa/per, printing — the water-colour drawings being filled in hy am, 
 OA-tist) of the Original Editions of the Books written and Illustrated 
 by William Blake. As it is only intended to produce — with utmost 
 care— a few examples of each work, Mr. Hotten will be glad to hear from 
 any gentleman who may desire to secure copies of these wonderful books. 
 The first volume, " Marriage op Heaven and Hell," 4to, is now being 
 issued, price 30s., half morocco. 
 
 "Blake 13 a real name, I assure you, and a most extraordinary man he is, if he still be li%-ing. 
 He is the Blake whose wild designs accompany a splendid edition of 'Blair's Grave." lie paints in 
 water-colours marvellous strange pictures — visions of his brain — which he asserts he has seen. They 
 have great merit. I must look upon him as one of the most exbaordinary persons of the age." — 
 Charles Laub. 
 
 George Chapman's Plays, from the Original Texts. 
 
 Edited, with Notes and an Introduv^ion, by Algernon Charles 
 Swinburne. 4 vols., tastefully printed, v Mform with Wm. Pickering's 
 Editions of the " Old Dramatists." [In preparation. 
 
 UNIFORM WITH MR. SWINBURNE'S POEMS. 
 Fcap. 8vo, 450 pages. Fine Portrait and Autograph, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Walt Whitman's Poems. (Leaves of Grass, Drum- 
 Taps, &c.) Selected and Edited by William Michael Rossetti. 
 
 «' 'WTiitman is a poet who bears and needs to be read as a whole, and then the volume and torrent 
 of his power carry the disfi^rurements along with it and away.— He is really a fine fellow."— 
 Chambers's Journal, in a very long Notice, July 4th, 1868. 
 
 «^ A great deal of p'^ejudice in this coimtry has been shoivn against 
 thievery remarkable author. His work should be read by independent 
 minds, and an opinion formed totally apart from the attacks that have 
 been made upon him. 
 
 Hossetti's Criticisms on Swinburne's Poems. Price 
 
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