Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 2

"Perfectly, sir; I can quite appreciate your feelings. But, sir, the mercantile interests of this great country are not to be overlooked!—Those who are concerned in them, are frequently respectable persons."

"Begging pardon, my Lord—no, they a'n't—if your Lordship only knew them as well as I do, my Lord. Most uncommon low people. Do anything to turn a penny, my Lord; and often sell damaged goods for best."

"It is very possible, sir, that there may exist irregularities, eccentricities, ha! ha! of that description; but upon the whole, sir, I am disposed to think that there are many very decent persons engaged in trade. I have had the happiness, sir, to assist in passing measures that were calculated, by removing restrictions and protective duties, to secure to this country the benefits of free and universal competition. We have been proceeding, sir, for many years, on altogether a wrong principle—that of protecting native industry and enterprise; but, not to follow out this matter farther, I must remind you, sir, that your acquaintance with the principles and leading details of mercantile transactions—undoubtedly one of the mainsprings of the national greatness—may hereafter be of use to you, sir."

"Yes, my Lord, 'pon my soul—when I'm furnishing my houses in town and country, I mean to go to market myself—please your Lordship, I know a trick or two of the trade, and can't be taken in, my Lord. For instance, my Lord, there's Tag-rag—a-hem! hem!" he paused abruptly, and looked somewhat confusedly at the earl.

"I did not mean that exactly," said his Lordship, unable to resist a smile. "Pray, fill your glass, Mr. Titmouse." He did so. "You are of course aware that you have the absolute patronage of the borough of Yatton, Mr. Titmouse?—It occurs to me, that as our political opinions agree, and unless I am presumptuous, sir, in so thinking—I may be regarded, in a political point of view, as the head of the family—you understand me, I hope, Mr. Titmouse?"

"Exactly, my Lord—'pon my soul, it's all correct, my Lord."

"Well—then, sir, the family interests, Mr. Titmouse, must be looked after"–

"Oh! in course, my Lord, only too happy—certainly, my Lord, we shall, I hope, make a very interesting family, if your Lordship so pleases—I can have no objection, my Lord!"

"It was a vile, a disgraceful trick, by which Ministers popped in their own man for our borough, Mr. Titmouse."

[Lord Dreddlington alluded to the circumstance of a new writ having been moved for, immediately on Mr. Aubrey's acceptance of the Chiltern Hundreds, and, before the Opposition could be prepared for such a step, sent down, without delay, to Yatton, and Sir Percival Pickering, Bart., of Luddington Court, an intimate friend of Mr. Aubrey's, and a keen unflinching Tory, being returned as member, before the Titmouse influence could be brought for even one moment into the field; the few and willing electors of that ancient and loyal borough being only too happy to have the opportunity of voting for a man whose principles they approved—probably the last they would have of doing so.]

"Yes, my Lord—Sir What-d'ye-call-him was a trifle too sharp for us, in that business, wasn't he?"

"It has succeeded, sir, for the moment, but"—continued his Lordship, in a very significant and stately manner—"it is quite possible that their triumph may be of very short duration—Mr. Titmouse. Those who, like myself, are at headquarters—let me see you fill your glass, Mr. Titmouse.—I have the honor to congratulate you, sir, on the recovery of your rights, and to wish you health and long life in the enjoyment of them," quoth the earl, with an air of the loftiest urbanity.

"May it please your Lordship, your Lordship's most uncommon polite"—commenced Titmouse, rising and standing while he spoke—for he had had experience enough of society, to be aware that when a gentleman's health is drunk on important occasions, it becomes him to rise and acknowledge the compliment in such language as he can command—"and am particularly proud—a—a—I beg to propose, my Lord, your Lordship's very superior good health, and many thanks." Then he sat down; each poured out another glass of claret, and Titmouse drank his off.

"It is extremely singular, sir," said the earl, musingly, after a considerable pause, "the reverses in life that one hears of!"

[I cannot help pausing, for a moment, to suggest—what must have become of the earl and his daughter, had they been placed in the situation of the unfortunate Aubreys?]

"Yes, my Lord, your Lordship's quite true, 'pon my word!—Most uncommon ups and downs! Lord, my Lord, only to fancy me, a few months ago, trotting up and down Oxford Street with my yard mea"–He stopped short, and colored violently.

"Well, sir," replied the earl, with an expression of bland and dignified sympathy—"however humble might have been your circumstances, it is a consolation to reflect that the Fates ordained it. Sir, there is nothing dishonorable in being poor, when—you cannot help it! Reverses of fortune, sir, have happened to some of the greatest characters in our history. You remember Alfred, sir?" Titmouse bowed assentingly; but had he been questioned, could have told, I suspect, as little about the matter—as the earl himself.

"Allow me, sir, to ask whether you have come to any arrangement with your late opponent concerning the backrents?" inquired the earl, with a great appearance of interest.

"No, my Lord, not yet; but my solicitors say they'll soon have the screw on, please your Lordship—that's just what they say—their very words."

"Indeed, sir!" replied the earl, gravely. "What is the sum to which they say you are entitled, sir?"

"Sixty thousand pounds, my Lord, at least—quite set me up at starting, my Lord—won't it?" replied Titmouse, with great glee; but the earl shuddered involuntarily for a moment, and sipped his wine in silence.

"By the way, Mr. Titmouse," said he, after a considerable pause—"I trust you will forgive me for suggesting whether it would not be a prudent step for you to go to one of the universities, for at least a twelvemonth."

"Humbly begging your Lordship's pardon, am not I too old? I've heard they're all a pack of overgrown schoolboys there—and learn nothing but a bit of some old languages that a'n't the least use now-a-days, seeing it a'n't spoke now, anywhere"—replied Titmouse—"Besides, I've talked the thing over with Mr. Gammon, my Lord"–

"Mr. Gammon? Allow me, sir, to ask who that may be?"

"One of my solicitors, my Lord; a most remarkable clever man, and an out-and-out lawyer, my Lord. It was he that found out all about my case, my Lord. If your Lordship was only to see him for a moment, your Lordship would say what a remarkable clever man that is!"

"You will forgive my curiosity, sir—but it must have surely required very ample means to have carried on so arduous a lawsuit as that which has just terminated so successfully?"

"Oh yes, my Lord!—Quirk, Gammon, and Snap did all that; and, between me and your Lordship, I suppose I shall have to come down a pretty long figure, all on the nail, as your Lordship understands; but I mean them to get it all out of that respectable gent, Mr. Aubrey!"—By quietly pressing his questions, the earl got a good deal more from Titmouse than he was aware of, concerning Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; and in doing so, conceived a special dislike for Gammon. The earl gave him some pretty decisive hints about the necessity of being on his guard with such people—and hoped that he would not commit himself to anything important without consulting his Lordship, who would of course give him the advantage of his experience in the affairs of the world, and open his eyes to the designs of those whose only object was to make a prey of him. Titmouse began to feel that here, at length, he had met with a real friend—one whose suggestions were worthy of being received with the profoundest deference. Soon afterwards, he had the good fortune to please the earl, beyond expression, by venturing timidly to express his admiration of the splendid ribbon worn by his Lordship; who took the opportunity of explaining that and the other marks of distinction he wore, and others which he was entitled to wear, at great length and with much minuteness—so that he at length caused Titmouse to believe that he, Lord Dreddlington—the august head of the family—must have rendered more signal service, somehow or other, to his country, and also done more to win the admiration and gratitude of foreign countries, than most men of former or present times. His Lordship might not, perhaps, have intended it; but he went on till he had almost DEIFIED himself in the estimation of his little listener!—One very natural question was perpetually trembling on the tip of Titmouse's tongue; viz. how and when he could get such things for himself.

"Well, Mr. Titmouse," at length observed the earl, after looking at his watch—"shall we adjourn to the drawing-room? The fact is, sir, that Lady Cecilia and I have an evening engagement at the Duchess of Diamond's. I much regret being unable to take you with us, sir; but, as it is, shall we rejoin the Lady Cecilia?" continued his Lordship, rising. Up jumped Titmouse; and the earl and he were soon in the drawing-room; where, besides the Lady Cecilia, sat another lady, to whom he was not introduced in any way. This was Miss Macspleuchan, a distant connection of the earl's late countess—a very poor relation, who had entered the house of the Earl of Dreddlington, in order to eat the bitter, bitter bread of dependence. Poor soul! you might tell, by a glance at her, that she had not thriven upon it. She was about thirty, and so thin! She was dressed in plain white muslin; and there was a manifest constraint and timidity about her motions, and a depression in her countenance; whose lineaments showed that if she could have been happy, she might have appeared handsome. She had a most ladylike air; and there was thought in her brow and acuteness in her eye, which however, as it were, habitually watched the motions of the earl and the Lady Cecilia, with deference and anxiety. Poor Miss Macspleuchan felt herself gradually sinking into a sycophant; the alternative being that, or starvation. She was very accomplished, particularly in music and languages, while the Lady Cecilia really knew scarcely anything—for which reason, principally, she had long ago conceived a bitter dislike to Miss Macspleuchan, and inflicted on her a number of petty but exquisite mortifications and indignities; such, perhaps, as none but a sensitive soul could fully appreciate; for the earl and his daughter were exemplary persons in the proprieties of life, and would not do such things openly. She was a sort of companion of Lady Cecilia, and entirely dependent upon her and the earl for her subsistence. She was sitting on the sofa beside Lady Cecilia, when Titmouse re-entered the drawing-room; and the latter eyed him through her glass with infinite nonchalance, even when he had advanced to within a few feet of her. He made Miss Macspleuchan, as she rose to take her seat and prepare tea, a most obsequious bow. Absurd as was the style of its performance, she saw that there was politeness in the intention; 'twas moreover a courtesy towards herself, that was unusual from the earl's guests; and these considerations served to take off the edge of the ridicule and contempt with which Lady Cecilia had been preparing her to receive their newly-discovered kinsman. After standing for a second or two near the sofa, Titmouse ventured to sit himself down upon it—on the very edge only—as if afraid of disturbing Lady Cecilia, who was reclining on it with an air of languid hauteur.

"So you're going, my Lady, to a dance to-night, as my Lord says?" quoth Titmouse, respectfully; "hope your Ladyship will enjoy yourself!"

"We regret that you do not accompany us, Mr. Titmouse," said Lady Cecilia, slightly inclining towards him, and glancing at Miss Macspleuchan with a faint and bitter smile.

"Should have been most uncommon proud to have gone, please your Ladyship," replied Titmouse, as a servant brought him a cup of tea. "These cups and saucers, my Lady, come from abroad, I suppose? Now, I dare say, though they've rather a funny look, they cost a good deal?"

"I really do not know, sir; I believe we have had them some time."

"'Pon my life, my Lady, I like them amazing!" Seeing her Ladyship not disposed to talk, Titmouse became silent.

"Are you fond of music, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired the earl, presently; observing that the pause in the conversation had become embarrassing to Titmouse.

"Very, indeed, my Lord; is your Lordship?"

"I am rather fond of vocal music, sir—of the opera."

This the earl said, because Miss Macspleuchan played upon the piano very brilliantly, and did not sing. Miss Macspleuchan understood him.

"Do you play upon any instrument, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Lady Cecilia, with a smile lurking about her lips, which increased a little when Titmouse replied in the negative;—but added that, he had once begun to learn the clarionet some years before, but could not manage the notes. "Excuse me, my Lady, but what an uncommon fine piano that is!" said he.—"If I may make so bold, will your Ladyship give us a tune?"

"I dare say Miss Macspleuchan will play for you, Mr. Titmouse, if you wish it," replied Lady Cecilia, coldly.

Some time afterwards, a servant announced to her Ladyship and the earl that the carriage was at the door; and presently they both retired to their dressing-rooms to make some slight alteration in their dress;—the earl to add an order or two, and Lady Cecilia to place upon her haughty brow a small tiara of brilliants. As soon as they had thus retired—"I shall feel great pleasure, sir, in playing for you, if you wish it," said Miss Macspleuchan, in a voice of such mingled melancholy and kindness as must have gone to Titmouse's heart, had he possessed one. He jumped up, and bowed profoundly. She sat down to the piano, and played with great ease and brilliancy such music as she supposed would suit her auditor—namely, waltzes and marches—till the door opened, and Lady Cecilia reappeared drawing on her gloves, with the glittering addition which I have mentioned—followed presently by the earl.

"Well, sir," said he, with dignified affability, "I need not repeat how highly gratified I feel at our introduction to each other. I trust you will henceforth consider yourself no stranger here"–

"Oh, 'pon my life, my Lord! your Lordship's most particular polite!" exclaimed Titmouse, in a low tone, and with a sudden and profound bow.

"And that on your return from Yorkshire," continued the earl, drawing on his gloves, "you will let us see you: we both feel great interest in your good fortunes. Sir, I have the honor to wish you a good evening!" He extended his gloved hand to his distinguished little kinsman, whose hand, however, he touched with little more than the ends of his fingers.

"We exceedingly regret that we must leave you, Mr. Titmouse," said Lady Cecilia, with forced seriousness; "but as we wish to leave the duchess's early, in order to go to another ball, we must go early. Good-evening, sir," and having dropped him a slight formal courtesy, she quitted the drawing-room followed by the earl, Titmouse making four or five such bows as provoked a smile from all who witnessed them. The next moment he was alone with Miss Macspleuchan. Her unaffected, good-natured address made him feel more at home within the next five minutes, than he had been since entering that frigid scene of foolish state—since being in the oppressive presence of the greatness just departed. She felt at first a contempt for him bordering upon disgust, but which very soon melted into pity. What a wretched creature was this to be put into such a dazzling position! What might be the design of Providence in placing such a being in the possession of such wealth and rank, at the expense of the virtuous Aubreys?

Titmouse soon got pretty communicative with Miss Macspleuchan, and told her about the Tag-rags, Miss Tag-rag, and Miss Quirk, both of whom were absolutely dying of love for him, and thought he was in love with them, which was not the case—far from it. Then he hinted something about a most particular uncommon lovely gal that had his heart, and he hoped to have hers, as soon as he had got all to rights at Yatton. Then he described the splendid style in which he was going down to take possession of his estates. Having finished this, he told her that he had been the morning before to see a man hanged for murdering his wife; that he had been into the condemned cell, and then into the press-room, and had seen his hands and arms tied, and shaken hands with him; and he was going into such a sickening minuteness of detail, that to avoid it Miss Macspleuchan, who felt both shocked and disgusted, suddenly asked him if he was fond of heraldry; and rising from the sofa, she went into the second room, where, on an elegant and antique stand, lay a huge roll of parchment, on a gilded stick, splendidly mounted and most superbly illuminated,—it was about three-quarters of a yard in breadth, and some ten or twenty feet in length. This was the Pedigree of the Dreddlingtons. She was giving him an account of Simon de Drelincourt, an early ancestor of the earl's, who had come over with William the Conqueror, and performed stupendous feats of valor at the battle of Hastings, Titmouse listening in open-mouthed awe, and almost trembling to think that he had broken a valuable dish belonging to a nobleman who had such wonderful ancestors; not, at the moment, adverting to the circumstance that he was himself descended from the very same ancestors, and had as rich blood in him as the earl and Lady Cecilia—when a servant entered and informed him in a whisper that "his carriage had arrived." He considered that etiquette required him to depart immediately.

"Beg your pardon; but if ever you should come down to my estate in the country, shall be most uncommon proud to see your Ladyship."

"I beg your pardon; you are mistaken, sir," interrupted Miss Macspleuchan, hastily, and blushing scarlet; the fact being that Titmouse had not caught her name on its having been once or twice pronounced by Lady Cecilia; and very naturally concluded that she also must be a lady of rank. Titmouse was, however, so occupied with his efforts to make a graceful exit, that he did not catch the explanation of his mistake; and, bowing almost down to the ground, reached the landing, where the tall servant, with a very easy grace, gave him his hat and cane, and preceded him down-stairs. As he descended, he felt in his pockets for some loose silver, and gave several shillings between the servants who stood in the hall to witness his departure; after which, one of them having opened the door and gently let down the steps of the glass-coach, Titmouse popped into it.

"Home, sir?" inquired the servant, as he closed the door.

"The Cabbage-Stalk Hotel, Covent Garden," replied Titmouse, with an affected drawl.

His answer was communicated to the coachman, who thereupon addressed a sharp argument to the brace of meek and skinny horses, standing with downcast heads before him—which they lifted up—then they got into motion—and away rumbled the glass-coach. As soon as its distinguished inmate had become calm enough to reflect upon the events of the evening, he came to the conclusion that the Earl of Dreddlington was a very great man indeed; the Lady Cecilia very beautiful, but rather proud; and Miss Macspleuchan (Lady Somebody, as he supposed) one of the most interesting ladies whom he had ever met with; that there was something uncommon pleasing about her: in short, he felt a sort of grateful attachment towards her; but how long it would have lasted after his hearing that she was only a plain miss, and a poor relation, I leave the acute reader to conjecture.

CHAPTER VI

Mr. Gammon was with Titmouse about half-past nine o'clock the next morning, not a little anxious to hear how that young gentleman had got on over-night; but met with a totally different reception from any that he had before experienced.

He imagined for a few minutes that Lord Dreddlington had been pumping Titmouse; had learned from him his position with respect to Gammon, in particular; and had injected distrust and suspicion into the mind of Titmouse, concerning him. But Gammon, with all his acuteness, was quite mistaken. The truth was, 'twas only an attempt on the part of poor Titmouse to assume the composed demeanor, the languid elegance, which he had observed in the distinguished personages with whom he had spent the preceding evening, and which had made a very deep impression on his little mind. He drawled out his words, looked as if he were half asleep, and continually addressed Gammon as "Sir," and "Mr. Gammon," just as the Earl of Dreddlington had constantly addressed him—Titmouse. Our friend was sitting at breakfast, on the present occasion, in a most gaudy dressing-gown, and with the newspaper before him; in short, his personal appearance and manner were totally different from what Gammon had ever previously witnessed; and he looked now and then at Titmouse, as if for a moment doubting his identity. Whether or not he was now on the point of throwing overboard those who had piloted him from amid the shoals of poverty into the open sea of affluence, shone upon by the vivid sunlight of rank and distinction, Gammon did not know; but he contracted his brow, and assumed a certain sternness and peremptoriness of tone and bearing, which were not long in reducing Titmouse to his proper dimensions; and when at length Mr. Gammon entered upon the delightful subject of the morrow's expedition, telling him that he, Gammon, had now nearly completed all the preparations for going down to, and taking possession of Yatton in a style of suitable splendor, according to the wish of Titmouse—this quickly melted away the thin coating of mannerism, and Titmouse was "himself again." He immediately gave Mr. Gammon a full account of what had happened at Lord Dreddlington's, and, I fear, of a great deal more, which might, possibly, have happened, but certainly had not, e. g. his Lordship's special laudation of Mr. Gammon as a "monstrous fine lawyer," which Titmouse swore were the very exact words of his Lordship, who "would have been most happy to see Mr. Gammon," and a good deal to the like effect. Also that he—Titmouse—had been "most uncommon thick" with "Lady Cicely," (so he pronounced her name;) and that both she and Lord Dreddlington had "pressed him very hard to go with them to a ball at a duke's!" He made no mention of the broken trifle-dish; said they had nearly a dozen servants to wait on them, and that there were twenty different sorts of wine, and no end of courses, at dinner. That the earl wore a star, and garter, and ribbons—which Gammon erroneously thought as apocryphal as the rest; and had told him that he—Titmouse—might one day wear them, and sit in the House of Lords; and had, moreover, advised him most strenuously to get into Parliament as soon as possible, as the "cause of the people wanted strengthening." [As Lord Coke, somewhere says, in speaking of a spurious portion of the text of Lyttleton, "that arrow came never out of Lyttleton's quiver"—so Gammon instantly perceived that the last sentence came never out of Titmouse's own head, but came plainly marked as that of a wise and able man and statesman.]

As soon as Titmouse had finished his little romance, Gammon proceeded to the chief object of his visit—their next day's journey. He said that he much regretted to inform Titmouse that Mr. Snap had expressed a very anxious wish to witness the triumph of Mr. Titmouse; and that unless he had some particular objection—"Oh none, 'pon honor!—poor Snap!—devilish good chap in a small way!" said Titmouse, in a most condescending manner, and at once gave his consent—Gammon informing him that Mr. Snap would be obliged to return to town by the next day's coach. The reader will smile when I tell him, and if a lady, will frown when she hears, that Miss Quirk was to be of the party—a point which her anxious father had secured some time before. Mrs. Alias had declared that she saw no objection, as Mr. Quirk would be constantly with his daughter, and Gammon had appeared most ready to bring about so desirable a result. He had also striven hard, unknown to his partners, to increase their numbers, by the Tag-rags, who might have gone down, all three of them, if they had chosen, by coach, and so have returned. Gammon conceived that this step might not have been unattended with advantage in several ways; and would, moreover, have secured him a considerable source of amusement. Titmouse, however, would not listen to the thing for one moment, and Gammon was forced to give up his little scheme. Two dashing young fellows, fashionable friends of Titmouse, (who had picked them up, Heaven only knows where, but they never deserted him,) infinitely to Gammon's annoyance, were to be of the party. He had seen them but once, when he had accompanied Titmouse to the play, where they soon joined him. One was a truly disgusting-looking fellow—a Mr. Pimp Yahoo—a man about five-and-thirty years old, tall, with a profusion of black hair parted down the middle of his head, and falling down in long clustering curls from each temple upon his coat-collar. His whiskers also were ample, and covered two-thirds of his face, and spread in disgusting amplitude round his throat. He had also a jet-black tuft—an imperial—depending from his underlip. He had an execrable eye—full of insolence and sensuality; in short, his whole countenance bespoke the thorough debauchee and ruffian. He had been, he said, in the army; and was nearly connected, according to his own account—as with fellows of this description is generally the case—with "some of the first families in the North!" He was now a man of pleasure about town—which contained not a better billiard-player, as the admiring Titmouse had had several painful opportunities of judging. He was a great patron of the ring—knowing all their secrets—all their haunts. He always had plenty of the money of other people, and drove about in a most elegant cab, in which Titmouse had often had a seat; and as soon as Mr. Yahoo had extracted from his communicative little companion all about himself, that astute gentleman made it his business to conciliate Titmouse's good graces by all the arts of which he was master—and he succeeded. The other chosen companion of our friend was Mr. Algernon Fitz-Snooks; a complete fool. He was the sole child of a rich tradesman—who had christened him by the sounding name given above; and afterwards added the patrician prefix to the surname, which also you see above, in order to gratify his wife and son. The youth had never "taken to business"—but was allowed to saunter about, doing, and knowing, nothing, till about his twenty-second year, when his mother died, as also a year afterwards did his father, bequeathing to his hopeful son some fifty thousand pounds—absolutely and uncontrolledly. Mr. Algernon Fitz-Snooks very judiciously thought that youth was the time to enjoy life; and before he had reached his thirtieth year, he had got through all his fortune except about five or six thousand pounds—in return for which, he had certainly got something; viz. an impaired constitution and a little experience, which might, possibly, at some future time, be useful. He had a pleasing face, regular features, and interesting eyes; his light hair curled "deliciously;" and he spoke in a sort of lisp and in a low tone—and, in point of dress, always "turned out" beautifully. He, also, had a cab, and was a great friend of Mr. Yahoo, who had introduced him into a great deal of high society, principally in St. James's Street; where both he and Mr. Yahoo had passed a great deal of their time, especially during the night! There was no intentional mischief in poor Fitz-Snooks: nature had made him only a fool—his prudent parents had done the rest; and if he fell into vice, it was only because—as people say—"he couldn't help it." Such were the chosen companions of Titmouse; the one a fool, the other a rogue—and "he must," he said, "have them down to the jollifying at Yatton." A groom and a valet—both impudent knaves, and both newly hired the day before—would complete the party of the morrow. Gammon assured Titmouse that he had taken all the pains in the world to get up a triumphant entry into Yatton; his agents at Grilston, Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son—the Radical electioneering attorneys of the county—who were well versed in the matter of processions, bands, flags, &c. &c. &c., had by that time arranged everything, and they were to be met, when within a mile of Yatton, by a grand procession. The people at the Hall, also, were under orders from Mr. Gammon, through Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son, to have all in readiness—and a banquet prepared for nearly a hundred persons—in fact, all comers were to be welcome. To all this Titmouse listened with eyes glistening, and ears tingling with rapture; but can any tongue describe his emotion, on being apprised that the sum of £2,500, in the banker's hands, was now at his disposal—that it would be doubled in a few weeks—and that a check for £500, drawn by Mr. Titmouse on the London agents of the Grilston bankers, had been honored on the preceding afternoon? Titmouse's heart beat fast, and he felt as if he could have worshipped Gammon. As for the matter of carriages, Mr. Gammon said, that probably Mr. Titmouse would call that morning on Mr. Axle, in Long Acre, and select one to his mind—it must of course be one with two seats—and Mr. Gammon had pointed out several which were, he thought, eligible, and would be shown to Mr. Titmouse. That would be the carriage in which—he presumed—Mr. Titmouse himself would travel; the second, Mr. Gammon had taken the liberty of already selecting. With this, Mr. Gammon (just as the new valet brought in no fewer than a dozen boxes of cigars ordered over-night by Titmouse) shook his hand and departed, saying that he should make his appearance at the Cabbage-Stalk the next morning, precisely at eleven o'clock—about which time it was arranged they were all to start. Titmouse hardly knew how to contain himself, on being left alone. About an hour afterwards, he made his appearance at Mr. Axle's: who, worthy and indefatigable man, carried on two businesses, one public, i. e. that of a coach-builder—one private, i. e. that of a money-lender. He was a rich man—a very obliging and "accommodating" person, by means of which latter quality he had amassed a fortune of, it was believed, a hundred thousand pounds. He never made a fuss about selling on credit—or lending, taking back, or exchanging, carriages of all descriptions; nor in discounting the bills of his customers, to any amount. He proved generally right, in each case, in the long rim. He would supply his fashionable victim with as splendid a chariot, and funds to keep it some time going, as he or she could desire; well knowing that in due time, after they should have taken a few turns in it about the parks, and a few streets and squares in the neighborhood, it would quietly drive up to one or two huge dingy fabrics in a different part of the town, where it would deposit its burden, and then return to its maker very little the worse for wear; who took it back at about a twentieth part of its cost, and soon again disposed of it in a way equally advantageous to himself. Mr. Axle showed Mr. Titmouse very obsequiously over his premises, pointing out (as soon as he knew who his visitor was,) the carriages which Mr. Gammon had the day before desired should be shown to him; and which Mr. Titmouse, with his glass stuck in his eye—where it was kept by the pure force of muscular contraction—examined with something like the air of a connoisseur—occasionally rapping with his agate-headed cane—now against his teeth, then against his legs. He did not seem perfectly satisfied with any of them; they looked—he said—"devilish plain and dull."