being a patron;
and he was certainly not one of those who do a good deed, and

"Blush to find it fame."

He not only employed my father to make his boots, but recommended him to
all his friends as a "good-fit," and procured the old man some excellent
customers. Among his acquaintance, for he had few friends, was Tom
Wallis, a fat, facetious man, about forty, with whom he was always
lunching and cracking his jokes. One day, when the stocks were "shut"
and business was slack, they started together on a sporting excursion
towards the romantic region of Hornsey-wood, on which occasion I had the
honour of carrying a well-filled basket of provisions, and the inward
satisfaction of making a good dinner from the remnants.

They killed nothing but time, yet they were exceedingly merry, especially
during the discussion of the provisions. Their laughter, indeed, was
enough to scare all the birds in the neighbourhood.

"Jim, if you wanted to correct those sheep yonder," said Tom, "what sort
of tool would you use?"

"An ewe-twig, of course," replied my master.

"No; that's devilish good," said Wallis; "but you ain't hit it yet."

"For a crown you don't do a better?"

"Done!"

"Well, what is it?"

"Why, a Ram-rod to be sure--as we're sportsmen."

My master agreed that it was more appropriate, and the good-natured Tom
Wallis flung the crown he had won to me.

"Here's another," continued he, as Mr. Timmis was just raising a bottle
of pale sherry to his lips--"I say, Jim, what birds are we most like
now?"

"Why swallows, to be sure," quickly replied my patron; who was really, on
most occasions, a match for his croney in the sublime art of punning, and
making conundrums, a favourite pastime with the wits of the Stock
Exchange.

CHAPTER V.--The Stalking Horse.

"Retributive Justice"

On the same landing where Timmis (as he termed it) 'held out,' were five
or six closets nick-named offices, and three other boys. One was the
nephew of the before-mentioned Wallis, and a very imp of mischief;
another, only a boy, with nothing remarkable but his stupidity; while the
fourth was a scrubby, stunted, fellow, about sixteen or seventeen years
of age, with a long pale face, deeply pitted with the small-pox, and an
irregular crop of light hair, most unscientifically cut into tufts.

He, by reason of his seniority and his gravity, soon became the oracle of
the party. We usually found him seated on the stairs of the fi