I. A TEA-PARTY IN BISHOPSGATE STREET.

XVIII. AN EVENING AT THE "GOOSE AND GRIDIRON."

XIX. GEORGE ROBINSON'S MARRIAGE.

XX. SHOWING HOW MR. BRISKET DIDN'T SEE HIS WAY.

XXI. MR. BROWN IS TAKEN ILL.

XXII. WASTEFUL AND IMPETUOUS SALE.

XXIII. FAREWELL.

XXIV. GEORGE ROBINSON'S DREAM.

CHAPTER I.

PREFACE.

BY ONE OF THE FIRM.

It will be observed by the literary and commercial world that, in
this transaction, the name of the really responsible party does not
show on the title-page. I--George Robinson--am that party. When our
Mr. Jones objected to the publication of these memoirs unless they
appeared as coming from the firm itself, I at once gave way. I had
no wish to offend the firm, and, perhaps, encounter a lawsuit for
the empty honour of seeing my name advertised as that of an author.
We had talked the matter over with our Mr. Brown, who, however,
was at that time in affliction, and not able to offer much that
was available. One thing he did say; "As we are partners," said Mr.
Brown, "let's be partners to the end." "Well," said I, "if you say
so, Mr. Brown, so it shall be." I never supposed that Mr. Brown would
set the Thames on fire, and soon learnt that he was not the man to
amass a fortune by British commerce. He was not made for the guild
of Merchant Princes. But he was the senior member of our firm, and I
always respected the old-fashioned doctrine of capital in the person
of our Mr. Brown.

When Mr. Brown said, "Let's be partners to the end; it won't be for
long, Mr. Robinson," I never said another word. "No," said I, "Mr.
Brown; you're not what you was--and you're down a peg; I'm not the
man to take advantage and go against your last wishes. Whether for
long or whether for short, we'll pull through in the same boat to the
end. It shall be put on the title-page--'By One of the Firm.'" "God
bless you, Mr. Robinson," said he; "God bless you."

And then Mr. Jones started another objection. The reader will soon
realize that anything I do is sure to be wrong with Mr. Jones. It
wouldn't be him else. He next declares that I can't write English,
and that the book must be corrected, and put out by an editor? Now,
when I inform the discerning British Public that every advertisement
that has been posted by Brown, Jones, and Robinson, during the last
three years has come from my own unaided pen, I think few will doubt
my capacity to write the "Memoirs of Brown, Jones, and