us where you have been, and what
about?'

'I have been in the Big City,' said I, 'writing lils.'

'How much money have you got in your pocket, brother?' said Mr.
Petulengro.

'Eighteenpence,' said I; 'all I have in the world.'

'I have been in the Big City, too,' said Mr. Petulengro; 'but I have not
written lils--I have fought in the ring--I have fifty pounds in my
pocket--I have much more in the world. Brother, there is considerable
difference between us.

'I would rather be the lil-writer, after all,' said the tall, handsome,
black man; 'indeed, I would wish for nothing better.'

'Why so?' said Mr. Petulengro.

'Because they have so much to say for themselves,' said the black man,
'even when dead and gone. When they are laid in the churchyard, it is
their own fault if people ain't talking of them. Who will know, after I
am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, that I was once the beauty of the world, or
that you Jasper were--'

'The best man in England of my inches. That's true, Tawno--however,
here's our brother will perhaps let the world know something about us.'

'Not he,' said the other, with a sigh; 'he'll have quite enough to do in
writing his own lils, and telling the world how handsome and clever he
was; and who can blame him? Not I. If I could write lils, every word
should be about myself and my own tacho Rommanis--my own lawful wedded
wife, which is the same thing. I tell you what, brother, I once heard a
wise man say in Brummagem, that "there is nothing like blowing one's own
horn," which I conceive to be much the same thing as writing one's own
lil.'

After a little more conversation, Mr. Petulengro arose, and motioned me
to follow him. 'Only eighteenpence in the world, brother?' said he, as
we walked together.

'Nothing more, I assure you. How came you to ask me how much money I
had?'

'Because there was something in your look, brother, something very much
resembling that which a person showeth who does not carry much money in
his pocket. I was looking at my own face this morning in my wife's
looking-glass--I did not look as you do, brother.'

'I believe your sole motive for inquiring,' said I, 'was to have an
opportunity of venting a foolish boast, and to let me know that you were
in possession of fifty pounds.'

'What is the use of having money unless you let people know you have it?'
said Mr. Petulengro. 'It is not every one can read faces, brother; and,
unless you knew I had money,